Reflections on Playing with Fire

Reflections on Playing with Fire: Fear and Love from Parashat Tzav and AIPAC Policy Conference 2016 ​by Rabbi Aaron S. Weininger

Don’t play with fire. We grew up with this warning and tell it to our kids. But for our ancestors wandering in the desert, offering animal sacrifices, it didn’t really apply. Parashat Tzav jumps right into the ritual of the “olah,” the burnt offering, the sacrifice that was offered over a fire that had to remain burning all the time. The olah offering was never eaten and it was most accessible to all Israelites, rich and poor, because the offering could come from a range of animal choices. ​

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In detailing the scene, the Torah teaches us (see chapter 6, verse 5, page 614) “The fire on the altar shall be kept burning, not to go out: every morning the priest shall feed it wood…” 

The Sefat Emet, the great Polish Hassidic thinker, says that the words, “shall be kept burning” refer to fear of God, while the words, “shall feed it wood each morning” refer to love, the “thread of grace” that comes with the new day. The Sefat Emet illustrates the point by turning to Psalm 42 (42:8), which teaches, “God commands God’s grace by day, and at night God’s song is with me.” God’s fire is with me.  

Let’s go back to the original verse, “The fire on the altar shall be kept burning, not to go out: every morning the priest shall feed it wood.” 

Now read through the Sefat Emet’s commentary, “The fire on the altar shall be kept burning with fear, not to go out: every morning the priest shall feed it the wood of love.”

Just as our ancestors didn’t live by the message, “don’t play with fire”—we don’t either. 

 After being at AIPAC’s policy conference this week in DC (AIPAC stands for the American Israel Public Affairs Committee)—I felt like I was given a front row seat to a contemporary kind of olah offering. 

“The fire on the altar shall be kept burning with fear, not to go out: every morning the priest shall feed it the wood of love.”

With more than 18,000 delegates gathered to advocate for Israel, I felt fear and I felt love to keep the fire of Israel strong. Throughout the AIPAC conference I felt fear and I felt love pouring into the same beautiful light, the fire of Israel, which burns in many of us. 

I felt such fear for Israel’s security because of uncertainty with Iran and the threat of ISIS. I felt fear for Israel’s security because the occupation is corrosive to Israel’s soul, fear because of Palestinian stabbing attacks that terrorize and rob Israeli citizens of normalcy, fear because of Knesset bills that erode democracy, fear of elected leaders managing the status quo and lacking vision. All of these contribute to a fire of fear. And there’s a lot to be fearful of for Israel’s security, for a secure body and a secure soul. Each fear shouldn’t be compared to the other. Each one should be absorbed, surely in context, and for what it is. If we listen carefully to those with different political views we would find that we share a human emotion of fear. We share fear about what is now and what might be later even when we have profound disagreements about the particular fear. Fear does not belong to the left wing or the right wing. Fear sustains the fire on the sacrificial altar; it was present for our ancestors and it is present for us. 

Pouring into that beautiful light, the fire of Israel, I also felt such love. I felt love for Israel’s achievements in so many spheres that were shared proudly with the 18,000 of us at the conference. One such presentation was from a program called Sulamot, music for social change, which helps kids in peripheral areas and underprivileged communities develop self-confidence through music education. An initiative of the Israel Philharmonic and Tel Aviv University, Sulamot reaches Jews, Arabs, and Christians. One of the kids, Noam, who spoke to the conference by video, exclaimed with a big smile about getting her violin, ““hirgashti she k’ilu ani yechola lihiot b’gag haolam.” “I felt I could be on top of the world.” Every kid gets to play an instrument for at least three years; Sulamot doesn’t give up on anyone. I felt such love for Israel’s accomplishments through Tikkun Olam Makers, known as TOM, a global movement based in Tel Aviv, “connecting people with disabilities with makers and developing solutions for every day challenges.” Taking an Israeli start-up nation mentality to address neglected social problems, TOM reminded us that nothing-short-of-miraculous work is being invented in Israel every day, a country less than seventy years old. Like fear, love does not belong to the left wing or the right wing. Love meets fear. Both sustain the fire. As both were present for our ancestors, they are both present for us. 

“The fire on the altar shall be kept burning with fear, not to go out: every morning the priest shall feed it the wood of love.”

Our connection to Israel shall be kept burning with fear, not to go out: every morning the Jewish people shall feed it the wood of love. 
You see, the Sefat Emet was prescient. Born in Poland in 1847, he couldn’t have imagined a modern State of Israel let alone a conference that would safely gather over 18,000 delegates in this nation’s capital-- Jewish, not Jewish, and including 4,000 young adults to advocate for it so publicly and proudly. And let me brag for a moment-- including Sue Shrell Leon and a group of teenagers from our shul who applied for and received funding from an anonymous donor to represent Adath, the only such teen delegation from Minnesota.  

The Sefat Emet understood how the fire keeps burning. Whether it was for our ancestors drawing close to God through animal sacrifices or it is in our day, drawing close to Israel. Whatever form our fire takes it needs a potent combination of fear and love to remain a fire. Israel desperately needs both to remain Israel. We need honest and respectful expressions of love and fear. We need love to inspire innovation and create change and it is okay to fear what might be-- we have to be attuned to real dangers that threaten Israel’s security. But when our fear turns into fear mongering, shameless pandering, and trashing America’s democratically elected leaders to standing ovations, there’s no room to bring in the wood of love to keep the fire burning. We shut out the priests to come and feed it the wood of love. Without the wood the fire is extinguished and, worst of all, we keep others from ever drawing close. 

​“The fire on the altar shall be kept burning with fear, not to go out: every morning the priest shall feed it the wood of love.” I don’t know about you but I’m ready to play with fire. My hope for us is to feel the fire burning AND to make room for the wood. I pray we not burn each other but instead expand that beautiful light that shines from Israel. May that blessing be our humble offering, our olah, to you God, through our every word and our every deed.