Some people are bulldozers. They move mountains, conquer countries, achieve
the seemingly impossible. But then when there are no more mountains to climb,
they falter. Routines, maintenance and sustainability are not their strong
points. They respond to excitement and challenge, not to the uneventful,
monotonous daily grind.
The title word of this week's Parshah, Tzav, means "Command." It
introduces G-d's call to Moses to instruct the Kohanim (priests) about
the laws of the burnt offerings in the Sanctuary. Rashi points out that the word
Tzav, "Command" - rather than the more familiar and softer "Speak" or
"Tell" - is generally reserved for instructions which require a sense of
zealousness. These are things which need to be performed "immediately as well as
for posterity."
Would G-d have doubted the commitment of Aaron and his sons? Was there
concern that they would do anything other than what they were instructed to
regarding the sacred services? After all, they were the most saintly and
dedicated of men. Was there really anything to worry about? Why employ a word
implying such urgency?
Says Rashi: it's not only the need for immediacy but also the insistence that
the services carry on throughout the generations in the very same way. It is one
thing to be committed and excited now when the mitzvah is still fresh and new,
but what will happen in future? Will that same commitment still be there down
the line, or will the enthusiasm have waned?
In the sporting arena there are athletes, and even teams, who make wonderful
starts but then fade before the finish. Others go great guns throughout a
contest, but then "choke" at the very end. One cannot achieve greatness by
erratic bursts of energy. Concentration and consistency are needed to carry us
through until the final moment of the match.
So too in life. People in Hollywood find it pretty easy to get married to one
another. But how many stay married? And it is no different in Judaism. Lots of
Jews are excellent at Yom Kippur. But what happens all year round? Many have
moments of inspiration, but it is allowed to become a passing phase.
A fellow came to Shul to recite kaddish in memory of a parent, but
sadly the congregation were struggling to make a minyan (quorum of ten
for prayer). He vented his anger at not being able to recite the payer. One of
the men present was less than sympathetic. "And where were you yesterday when
someone else needed to say kaddish and there wasn't a minyan?" he
retorted. Many people make the effort to attend services on the anniversary of a
parent's passing, but stay away on "regular" days.
King David in Psalm 24 asks, "Who may ascend the mountain of G-d, and who may
stand in His holy place?" It is one thing to climb the mountain but quite
another to be able to stay on the summit. There are outstanding trailblazers who
struggle with the everyday maintenance of the very programs they themselves
initiated. In an ideal world pioneers would do the initiating and ordinary folk
would carry on the routine. But it doesn't always work that way. We cannot
necessarily afford the luxury of focusing only on the parts of life we enjoy and
are stimulated by. More often than not life is a grind. Moments of excitement
and discovery are rare. Charting new courses are not everyday experiences. And
our creations need long term, consistent maintenance, otherwise they collapse.
The command to the Kohanim echoes down the ages to each of us. If it
is important, do it now. And if it is sacred, carry on doing it forever.
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