"Fire shall be kept burning upon the altar continually; it shall not go
out" (Leviticus 6:6). On this verse the Jerusalem Talmud comments,
"continually -- even on Shabbat; continually -- even in a state of
impurity."
As has been mentioned before, every aspect of the physical Sanctuary has its
counterpart in the inward Sanctuary within the soul of the Jew.
In his Likkutei Torah (Devarim 78d) Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi
explains that the altar is the heart of the Jew. And corresponding to the two
altars of the Sanctuary, the outer and the inner, are the outer and inner levels
of the heart, its surface personality and its essential core.
The altar on which the continual fire was to be set was the outer one. And
for the Jew this means that the fire of his love for G-d must be outward, open
and revealed. It is not a private possession, to be cherished subconsciously. It
must show in the face he sets towards the world.
The Withdrawn and the Separated
The concept of Shabbat is that of rest and withdrawal from the weekday world.
Everyday acts are forbidden. But Shabbat is not only a day of the week. It is a
state of mind. It is, in the dimensions of the soul, the state of contemplation
and understanding. Its connection with Shabbat lies in the verse (Isaiah 58:13):
"And you shall call the Shabbat a delight." On Shabbat, the perception
of G-d is more intense, more open. And this leads the mind to a withdrawal from
the secular and the mundane.
But to reach this level is to become prone to a temptation. One might think
that to have reached so far in perceiving the presence of G-d is to have passed
beyond passion to the realm of impassive contemplation. The mind asserts its
superiority over the emotions. He has, he tells himself, no need for the fire of
love. This is the man to whom the Talmud says, the fire "shall not go out
-- even on Shabbat."
There is an opposite extreme: The man who has traveled so far on the path of
separation that he feels he has now no link with G-d. To him the Talmud says,
"it shall not go out -- even in a state of impurity." For the fire
does not go out. A spark always burns in the recesses of the heart. It can be
fanned into flame. And if it is fed with the fuel of love, it will burn
continually. The Maggid of Mezeritch said that instead of reading the phrase,
"It shall not be put out," we can read it, "It will put out the
'not.'" The fire of love extinguishes the negative. It takes the Jew past
the threshold of commitment where he stands in hesitation and says
"No."
Coldness
The remark of the Maggid stresses the fact that to put out the
"No," the fire must be continual. It must be fed by a constant
attachment to Torah and to Mitzvot. "Once" or "occasionally"
or "not long ago" are not enough. The fire dies down, coldness
supersedes, and the "No" is given its dominion.
This explains the commandment: "Remember what Amalek did to you by the
way as you came out of Egypt: How he met you (korcha) on the way..."
(Deuteronomy 25:17-18). Amalek is the symbol of coldness in the religious life.
The word korcha, as well as meaning "he met you" also means
"he made you cold." The historical Amalek "smote the hindmost of
you, all those who were enfeebled in your rear, when you were faint and weary:
And he did not fear G-d" (ibid.). The Amalek within attempts to do the
same. It is the voice which says "No" when the love of G-d grows faint
and weary. It is the voice which does not fear G-d. And we are commanded every
day to remember Amalek. That is, never to let coldness enter and take hold of
the heart. And that means that the fire of love must never be allowed to die
down.
Fire From Below and Fire From Above
The continual fire, which was man-made, was the preparation in the Sanctuary
for the fire which descended from Heaven. On this the Talmud (Yoma 21b) says:
"Although fire comes down from Heaven, it is a commandment also for man to
bring fire." It was the awakening from below that brought an answering
response from G-d. But it brought this response only when the fire was perfect,
without defect.
This is made clear in this and next week's Parshahs. During the days when the
Sanctuary was consecrated, it and its vessels were ready, Moses and Aaron were
present, and sacrifices were being offered. But the Divine presence did not
descend on it. A lingering trace of the sin of the Golden Calf remained. Only on
the eighth day, when the continual fire was perfected, was the sin effaced, the
"No" extinguished. "Fire came forth from before G-d" and
"the glory of G-d appeared to all the people" (Leviticus 9:23-24;
Rashi ibid.).
What was this fire from Heaven? Why did it require the perfection of the
earthly fire?
Man is a created being. He is finite. And there are limits to what he can
achieve on his own. His acts are bounded by time. To become eternal, something
Divine must intervene.
This is why, during the seven days of consecration, the Sanctuary was
continually being constructed and taken apart. As the work of man, it could not
be lasting. But on the eighth day the Divine presence descended, and only then
did it become permanent.
The seven days were a week, the measure of earthly time. The eighth was the
day beyond human time, the number which signifies eternity. And hence it was the
day of the heavenly fire, which was the response of an infinite G-d.
Limits
Although man cannot aspire to infinity himself, the fire of infinity descends
upon him. But only when he has perfected his own fire, and gone to the limits of
his spiritual possibilities. Man is answered by G-d, not when he resigns himself
to passivity or despair, but when he has reached the frontier of his own
capabilities.
This is suggested by the word "continual" in the description of the
fire. What is continual is infinite, for it has no end in time. Time, though, is
composed of finite parts, seconds, minutes, hours. And even an infinite
succession of them is still limited to a single dimension. But by the perfection
of our time-bounded lives we join ourselves to the timelessness of G-d, so that
time itself becomes eternal. And nature itself becomes supernatural. Because the
reward of our service to G-d is the blessing of a success within the natural
world which goes beyond the natural order.
Fire in the Service of Man
The essential implication of this is that every Jew constitutes a Sanctuary
to G-d. And even if he studies Torah and fulfills the commandments, if the
continual fire is missing, the Divine presence will not dwell within him. For
his service is without life. And a trace of that distant sin of the Golden Calf
may remain: The "No" which is the voice of coldness.
The Jew must bring life, involvement, fire, to the three aspects of his
religious existence: "Torah, service of G-d, and the practice of charity"
(Ethics of the Fathers 1:2).
Torah learning should not be something done merely to discharge an
obligation, and kept to the minimum required. Words of Torah should never leave
the mouth of a Jew. And they should be words spoken with fire. It is told in the
Talmud (Eruvin 54a) that "Beruriah once discovered a student who was
learning in an undertone. Rebuking him she said: Is it not written, 'Ordered in
all things and sure.' If it (the Torah) is 'ordered' in your two hundred and
forty-eight limbs, it will be 'sure.' Otherwise it will not." In other
words, Torah should penetrate every facet of his being until he can say:
"All my bones shall say, L-rd, who is like You?" (Psalms 35:10).
"Service of G-d" means prayer and of this the Ethics says, "Do not
regard your prayer as a fixed mechanical task, but as an appeal for mercy and
grace before the All-Present"((Ethics of the Fathers 2:13)
The practice of charity includes the fulfillment of the commandments.
And these again are not to be performed merely out of conscientiousness, but
with an inner warmth that manifests itself outwardly in a desire to fulfill them
with as much beauty as possible.
These are the places where the fire is lit. And this human fire brings down
the fire from heaven. It brings G-d into the world, and draws infinity into the
dimensions of the finite.