By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D.
EL CAJON, California — Shabbos HaGadol isn’t just another Shabbos—it’s the Shabbos heartbeat of Pesach’s sacredness, the spark that sets our redemption in motion. It’s called “the Great Shabbos” because it holds within it the power of Shabbos and Yom Tov of Pesach, blending them into something extraordinary.
This time of year, isn’t just about remembering the past—it’s about stepping into the reality of Hashem’s salvation right now, in our present. Shabbos HaGadol is Hashem’s invitation to reset, to trust, to start fresh. No matter what burdens we carry, no matter how overwhelming life feels, emunah lifts us beyond it. True joy isn’t tied to perfect circumstances—it’s anchored in the unshakable truth that Hashem, our Go’el Yisrael, is redeeming us in our every moment.
At the heart of this week’s Torah portion, Tzav, lies a powerful metaphor for inner resilience and spiritual well-being—the Ner Tamid, the eternal flame. The verse tells us: “The fire on the altar shall be kept burning, never to go out. Each morning, the priest shall add wood to it, arrange the burnt offering upon it, and turn the fat of the well-being offerings into smoke. A perpetual fire shall be kept burning on the altar; it must never go out.”
Rashi emphasizes the seriousness of this command, noting that extinguishing the flame violates not just one, but two commandments: to keep the fire lit and to ensure it never dies. Meanwhile, Ibn Ezra highlights an additional layer—this fire must remain, even during the day when it may not be visible.
This teaches us something profound about our own inner light. Our challenges and adversities may try to smother our spark, but just like the altar’s fire, our spirit is to be tended to daily. Even when we can’t always see it—on difficult days, in moments of doubt—we are wise to trust that the flame within us still burns. By nourishing it with acts of kindness, purpose, and self-care, we ensure that our inner flame remains alive, bringing warmth and illumination to ourselves and those around us. The lesson? Your inner light is sacred. Keep feeding it. Keep it burning. Even when you can’t see it, trust that it’s there waiting to shine when you need it most.
It’s a profound lesson in our avodat Hashem and personal well-being. There are days when we feel spiritually on fire—connected, inspired, full of purpose. But then there are the quieter days, the harder days, when that flame seems hidden beneath layers of exhaustion, doubt, or struggle. The Torah reminds us: the fire is still there. Our job is to tend it.
Like the Kohanim who placed wood on the altar every morning, we, too, would be wise to nurture our inner fire—through Torah, tefillah, chesed, and self-reflection. Even small, consistent acts of goodness—one heartfelt bracha, one moment of gratitude, one extra measure of patience—keep the embers glowing. And those embers? Given the right care, they can reignite into a brilliant flame.
Never underestimate the quiet strength of a fire that refuses to be extinguished. Your inner light is holy. Protect it, fuel it, trust in it. Even when you don’t see the flames, they are there—waiting to shine again.
Flames commonly mean that there are ashes nearby. The Kohanim were instructed to gather and clear the ashes, terumat ha-deshen, that were from the residue of the burn offerings from the altar and specifically told where to place and transport the ashes outside the camp, and what to wear while doing so, linen priestly vestments.
We can learn from this to recognize the value 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 “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. There are many ways for us to keep our flame alive.
We understand from the Midrash in Rabbah Vayikra that the Altar moved about for a period of about 116 years. The Talmud is indicating that even during this time, they did not let the light go out. One might say how one behaves with the flame at home and while out and about, was to be the same, “Don’t let the light go out!”
Look no further than the Shema we say every day, בְּשִׁבְתְּךָ֤ בְּבֵיתֶ֙ךָ֙ וּבְלֶכְת בַדֶּ֔רֶךְ “…and you shall speak of them when you sit in your house and when you walk on the road…” Sound familiar? “Don’t let the light go out!” At home, on the road, just don’t ever let it go out! When it comes to the fire on the Altar, we are directed to keep it burning brightly always.
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 are afforded to give tzedakah, charity, in a sincere and caring manner, to learning Torah from all the wise Rabbis throughout 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.
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? Imagine if you considered how fortunate you are to have trash to take out and how blessed you are to be able to physically do so? Imagine if you became an example by cleaning out “shmutz,” including “shmutzik” behavior, wherever you went?
As we approach Passover, celebrating our freedom, our renewal, let us begin striving to be more mindful of how we can go beyond what we feel, and focus on how we can change our actual behavior, especially towards each other, and elevate our world to include more holiness, real holiness. This is the lesson of parsha Tzav. Leftover ashes? They’re a big deal… if we learn from them to transform the mundane into the holy in our daily lives…another way to keep the flame burning brightly and to “Let it shine through our hope and our tears.”
And in these times when it may be difficult to be our best and keep the flame alive, let us sing together,
הִגָּלֶה־נָא וּפְרֹשׂ, חָבִיב, עָלַי אֶת־סֻכַּת שְׁלוֹמָךְ
תָּאִיר אֶֽרֶץ מִכְּבוֹדָךְ, נָגִֽילָה וְנִשְׂמְחָה בָּךְ
“Please, my beloved, reveal yourself and spread over me the shelter of Your peace.
Fill the world with the light of your glory, so that we may rejoice and be happy in You.”
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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.