By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D.
EL CAJON, California — How do you embrace the opportunity to uplift and inspire others, celebrating their involvement in our Jewish community at any level, with honor and encouragement? Isn’t that what Moshe did in this week’s Torah reading?
Hashem directs Moshe to speak with Aharon to encourage him to become the Kohen Gadol. It seems that we all, even Aharon, thrive with inspiring, uplifting words of praise, reinforcement, and support.
From Rashi we learn that Hashem instructed Moshe to help Aharon feel honored through the words, “Tell Aharon that he was chosen to become the messenger of Hashem to serve in the Mishkan.” Then, Moshe was to guide Aharon in how to dress properly, wearing the special clothing of the Kohanim, which would help him feel very distinct. Rashi then tells us that Moshe was to place oil on Aharon, making him feel even more special.
When Aharon realized that two drops of the oil that fell on his beard would be with him for the rest of his life, he saw this as a sign that he indeed was meant to be the Kohen Gadol. Talk about helping others feel special! By elevating others, by following the words of Hashem to create optimal relationships, we all thrive.
Something about this appears to be contrary to what we teach for growing positive mental wellbeing. Can clothing, oil, kind words, “make” someone “feel special”? After all, isn’t what we feel anchored in our own thoughts about ourselves? And if we believe we are only distinct because of what we wear, the labels we show, the oil that anoints us, what others say about us, aren’t we sinking into conditional self-acceptance, “self-esteem,” which is the “cancer” of psychological health? The answer is, profoundly, yes!
It would be far better, healthier, if Aharon, and all of us, tossed out the idea of “self-esteem” entirely. We would not rest our judgment of ourselves as worthy human beings on “needing” and having value or esteem. Instead, contemporary psychology urges that we aim for unconditional self-acceptance, irrespective of our traits, clothing, or how others see us; that we acknowledge that we exist because of Hashem placing us on earth and choosing to live our lives joyfully, and meah v’esrim, with a long health span; rating our behaviors, our actions, our traits…not ourselves.
“The greatest discovery of any generation is that a human can alter his life by altering his attitude,” according to psychologist William James, dozens of contemporary mental health experts, evolving research, and even ancient writings. As it says in Proverbs 4:23, “Be careful about what you think. Your thoughts run your life.”
In the opening verses of this parsha, a profound link emerges between the Hebrew words Tzav and Tzavta. Tzav, signifying both command and obligation, resonates with a deep sense of purpose. It speaks to the yearning within us to live with intention and to find our purpose, to answer a calling beyond ourselves. Woven into this concept is Tzavta, the essence of togetherness.
The seemingly mundane details of the Korbanot offerings, meticulously outlined in Parsha Tzav, transform into a potent metaphor. For in the act of giving and uplifting others, we are not merely following instructions. We are forging a bond, a shared commitment to a sacred ideal.
The Sfat Emet teaches the deepest offering we can give to Hashem is to offer our full selves, including the parts we don’t like. The work of continually trying to make our lives and behavior better is our service to Him.
In this regard, the studies of Dr. David DeSteno and his colleagues reveal a profound truth – that gratitude is a powerful force, capable of igniting a radiant chain reaction of goodness and compassion. Perhaps this is what is behind the good Moshe delivers to Aharon…not so much “making” him “feel good,” but rather when one’s heart is filled with gratitude for the blessings received, it becomes a wellspring from which kindness and generosity flow forth. This gift of gratitude that Moshe extends is not merely reciprocated to the initial benefactor, Aharon, but rather, it radiates outward, touching the lives of us all, in a rippling effect of goodwill…to this day.
Gratitude, it seems, possesses a contagious quality, spreading through the intricate web of human connections like a gentle wildfire, leaving in its wake a trail of uplifted spirits and acts of kindness. Even the mere witnessing of gratitude expressed can kindle a spark, a flame, within the heart, inspiring a wave of positive emotion that manifests as compassion and benevolence towards all.
As spiritual beings, we strive to keep the sacred fires burning within our souls – the flames of meaning, focus, and purpose that light our paths. Yet in tending to the profound needs of our families, friends, congregants, students, colleagues, and all those we are called to serve, many of us find ourselves overwhelmed. We share in the fears and concerns that grip the hearts of those dearest to us, even as we seek to offer them solace and guidance. In such trying times, we find comfort and wisdom in the ancient model set forth by the holy priests of old, who so selflessly cared for the needs of the community.
It is two often overlooked verses, found near the beginning of this week’s portion that hold particular resonance, verses that shed light on a crucial stage of the priests’ process of tending the fires and offering the sacrifices symbolic of the people’s emotional and spiritual yearnings. For the burnt offerings we read so much about did not rise wholly unto Hashem but left behind a residue of ash. As the offerings accumulated, so too did the ashen remains. Thus, we read: “The priest shall dress in linen raiment, with linen breeches next to his body; and he shall take up the ashes to which the fire has reduced the burnt offering on the altar and place them beside the altar. He shall then take off his vestments and put on other vestments and carry the ashes outside the camp to a clean place.”
The priest was called to shift his focus from the offerings themselves to that which remained. He was to change his sacred garments, gather the ashes, depart from the Tent of Meeting and even the camp itself, and deposit the ashen burden in a clean place beyond its bounds.
So too must we who presently tend to the needs of others, uplifting others, pause and examine what has accumulated within our souls from these caring encounters – what lingering burdens we have taken on. We must allow ourselves to shed the vestments of our service, venture metaphorically and literally beyond the confines of the spaces inhabited while caring for others and release all that weighs upon us.
Failing to do so, the sacred flames we so devotedly nurture, and we ourselves, will surely be dampened by the ashes that threaten to smother them.
So, how do we keep this flame alive today? Sure, we see the “eternal flame” hovering over the ark in synagogues. That’s rather passive, though perhaps inspirational depending on how actively you see and think about it. When we bring active prayers, when we bring kindness, when we take time to savor the magnificence of Creation and of our Creator, we may be keeping that flame alive day and night as we are taught in the parsha.
As the priests tended to the fire of the sacrifice every morning and during the day, adding wood contributed by all to keep the fire burning, so too are we called to not let the light go out. It is up to us individually to bring daily prayer and action into our lives. From our mizbeach, our “altar” in our homes, our tables where we gather daily to eat and converse with family and friends, to the many opportunities we have to give tzedakah, charity, in a sincere and caring manner, to learning Torah from all the wise rabbis in our community, we can elevate our lives toward holiness through mitzvos. It requires that we sweep away the old and begin daily with a clean, freshened, grateful heart and mind, and doing, not just thinking about doing.
In another lesson we learn, the Kohanim were instructed to gather and clear the ashes, terumat ha-deshen, that were from the residue of the burnt offerings from the altar, and specifically were told where to place and transport the ashes outside the camp, and what to wear while doing so, their linen priestly vestments.
We can learn from this, if we pay close attention to the words, the benefit of elevating the most mundane activities in our lives such as cleaning, to a holy status. Deshen, the Hebrew word for “ash,” may also be seen as an acronym, davar shelo nechshav, meaning “something without importance.”
When the Kohanim were told to put on their Shabbat clothes in a sense, to “dress in linen raiment, with linen breeches next to his body; and he shall take up the ashes to which the fire has reduced the burnt offering on the altar and place them beside the altar,” we see the message as to why it was such a ritual: to learn that even cleaning ashes can be elevated, “lifted up,” to the holy. By directing the priests to put on their finest clothing for something as seemingly mundane as removing ashes from the altar, the Torah makes clear the need for the priests to be quite focused and attentive to what might appear to be the most trivial and negligible details of their distinctive work.
Imagine if you infused holiness into cleaning up after Shabbat dinner? Imagine if you de-cluttered your thinking of “negative ashes” to make room for elevated thoughts? Wouldn’t you use this freedom to help elevate and inspire others?
May we reaffirm our bond with Hashem and our communities by heeding this wisdom: that to best serve and help others, we must first tend to our own spiritual needs.
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Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D., prepares a weekly D’var Torah for Young Israel of San Diego, where he and his family are members. They are also active members of Congregation Adat Yeshurun. He may be contacted via michael.mantell@sdjewishworld.com