Tzav: Heavenly Fire and Hidden Miracles

Purim may not always fall out during the week of Parashas Tzav, but there is a thematic connection between the theme of Purim and the reason for a perplexing mitzvah at the beginning of the parashah.

Mar 29, 2024

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Artwork: Adobe Firefly 2.0’s response to the prompt: “abstract painting of a fire descending from heaven and merging with a regular fire”

Tzav: Heavenly Fire and Hidden Miracles

Are you aware of the problematic mitzvah at the very beginning of Parashas Tzav? “A permanent fire shall remain aflame on the altar; it shall not be extinguished” (Vayikra 6:6). Why is this mitzvah problematic? Because, from a purely practical standpoint, it’s unnecessary: there was no need for the kohanim to light a fire on the altar to consume the korbanos (sacrifices). Why not? Because Hashem would cause a miraculous fire to descend from heaven to consume the korbanos that were brought to Him. The Rambam (Hilchos Temidin u’Mussafin 2:1), citing the Gemara (Yoma 21b), acknowledges this redundancy in his codification of this mitzvah, saying:

It is a positive commandment for there to be fire continuously burning on the altar,⁠ as it is stated: "A permanent fire shall remain aflame on the altar" (Vayikra 6:6). Even though a fire descended from heaven,⁠ it is a mitzvah to bring from ordinary fire, as it is stated: "And the sons of Aaron, the kohanim, shall place fire on the altar" (ibid. 1:7).

The question is: What is the point of this mitzvah? If Hashem is going to “go out of His way” (so to speak) to bring down a miraculous fire from heaven, why would He command the kohanim to bring their own fire?

The Sefer ha’Chinuch (Mitzvah #132) offers the following explanation:

It is well known to us and to every wise person that when God, in His great goodness, does great miracles for human beings, He always does them in a hidden manner, and it appears as though they come about in completely natural ways, or in ways close to the natural order. For even the miracle of the splitting of the Sea of Reeds, which was a public miracle, it is written: “Hashem moved the sea with a strong east wind all the night, and He turned the sea to damp land and the water split” (Shemos 14:2) … For this reason, He commanded us to burn fire on the altar, even though flame would descend there from heaven – in order to conceal the miracle.

When Hashem does a miracle, He does it in the most minimal, natural, and concealed manner possible. We will refer to this as “the Law of Conservation of Miracles” or “the LCM,” for short. In most cases, the LCM is built into the design of the miracle itself. However, in the case of the miraculous fire on the altar, Hashem “delegated” the duty of concealing the miracle to the kohanim by making it into a mitzvah. Hashem “does His part” by causing the miraculous fire to consume the korbanos, while the kohanim “do their part” by obscuring this supernatural phenomenon with the natural fire they would kindle there every morning.

The Sefer ha’Chinuch takes it for granted that the LCM is “well known to us and to every wise person,” but the question must be asked: Why does Hashem conceal His miracles? We refer to miracles as “osos” (“signs”) and “mofsim” (“wonders” or “proofs”) because they prove God’s existence and providence! Shouldn’t they be as awesome, supernatural, and manifold as possible? Wouldn’t concealing them diminish their grandeur and impact?

The Sefer ha’Chinuch provides his own answer, writing that “those who are intelligent will understand that this phenomenon of concealment is due to the exalted stature of the Master and lowliness of the recipient.” I must not be in the category of “those who are intelligent” because I didn’t understand what he was alluding to. Thankfully, Rabbi Yehuda Meir Keilson offers three elucidations in his annotated translation of Derashos ha’Ran:

Sefer HaChinuch … explains that God "hides" His miracles from mankind by cloaking them in seemingly natural phenomena. God does this because of the "loftiness" of the One Who performs the miracle, and the "lowliness" of man who benefits from it. God's loftiness is such that He gains nothing from the honor resulting from His miraculous deeds, nor does He need to perform miracles in order to prove His might. But an open manifestation of His glory might be perceived as indicating that He does derive some benefit from such miracles. It is thus more befitting His honor that miracles be concealed. Moreover, man's deficiencies require that miracles be masked, for the greatness and grandeur manifest in a miracle demand that those who witness the event be worthy of witnessing it. R' Chaim Shmulevitz (Sichos Mussar, 5762 ed. #102) further explains that God covers miracles with the veneer of nature in order to give us the option of denying them. We thereby retain our free will to serve God or not.

Although these are fine explanations of the Sefer ha’Chinuch’s answer, I personally prefer a different explanation of the LCM given by Rabbeinu Nissim of Gerona (a.k.a. the Ran) in Derashos ha’Ran: Derush #8:

Hashem's desire and will is to maintain the natural order (minhago shel olam) as much as possible, and nature (teva) is precious in His eyes, and He will not change it unless it is absolutely necessary … Since the natural order is precious in Hashem's eyes and He desires it, as we have written, then sometimes, when it becomes necessary for Him to do a miracle and a wonder, He will intermingle it with a natural phenomenon which will serve as a “support” for that miracle – even though that natural phenomenon is not sufficient to bring about that miracle, but is merely a support for it.

Unlike the Sefer ha’Chinuch, whose explanation of the LCM is rooted in the gap between the lofty Creator and lowly man, the Ran attributes the LCM to Hashem’s “love” of the natural order. The question is: What does this mean? As we know, Hashem has no emotions; any reference to His “desire” must be understood allegorically If you had asked me in a vacuum, without any context, what it means that “nature is precious in His eyes,” I would say this means that Hashem is “reluctant” to intervene in the laws of nature – but that can’t be what the Ran means because that would just a restatement of the LCM which the Ran aims to explain!

To answer this question, we must examine one of the most prominent concealed miracles in history: the miracle of Purim. It is well-known that our salvation on Purim came about through a neis nistar (hidden miracle). Unlike the Exodus from Egypt and the sojourn in the Wilderness, the events of Purim involved no open violations of the laws of nature whatsoever. Mordechai and Esther acted with wisdom and cunning and Hashem facilitated their success “behind the scenes.” Hashem’s Name isn’t even mentioned in the megilah. Purim was the LCM at its finest.

Chazal characterize the miracle of Purim in the most counterintuitive manner. Tehilim 22 begins with the phrase “ayeles ha’shachar” (“the morning star” or literally, “doe of the dawn”). Chazal homiletically teach (Megilah 15b) that this chapter of Tehilim was said by Esther immediately before she risked her life to meet with Achashverosh. The Gemara (Yoma 29a) asks: “Why was Esther compared to the dawn? – To teach you that just as the dawn is the end of the whole night, so too, Esther (i.e. the Purim miracle) is sof kol ha’nissim (the end of all miracles).”

The precise meaning and implications of the phrase “sof kol ha’nissim” are unclear. The Gemara itself asks, “What about Chanukah?” Chanukah took place after the events of Purim, and clearly involved a miracle. The Gemara answers by saying that the events of Purim were the last of the miracles to be recorded in Tanach. Beyond this, the Gemara doesn’t elaborate on “sof kol ha’nissim,” and neither shall we.

Instead, we will focus on a different question: What is the reasoning behind the Gemara’s analogy? Typically, darkness and night metaphorically represent bad times, whereas light and day represent good times. For instance, David ha’Melech compares galus (exile) to the night and geulah (redemption) to the day: “My soul [yearns] for Hashem among those waiting for the morning, those waiting for the morning” (Tehilim 130:1). Likewise, Shlomo ha’Melech compares ignorance and evil to darkness, and wisdom and righteousness to light: “The path of the righteous is like the glow of sunlight, growing brighter and brighter until high noon, [but] the way of the wicked is like darkness; they do not know upon what they stumble” (Mishlei 4:18-19). Accordingly, one would expect the Gemara to compare the historical era of miracles to the daytime, with the final miracle (i.e. Purim) being compared to the dusk which precedes nightfall – yet, the Gemara does the opposite! The historical era of miracles is likened to the darkness of night, and the end of all miracles is likened to the dawn which precedes daybreak. What are we to make of the Gemara’s analogy? Why is the end of all miracles compared to the end of the night?

The answer to both of our questions – why does Hashem conceal His miracles, and why is the end of all miracles likened to the dawn – is one and the same: because the ideal way to relate to Hashem is without miracles. This was eloquently expressed by Rabbi Israel Chait in his essay, Torah from Sinai:

While Judaism is based on a supernatural event, it is not oriented toward the supernatural. The essence of Judaism is not realized through religious fervor over the miraculous but through an appreciation of God's wisdom as revealed both in Torah and the natural world. A miracle, being a breach of God's law, does not contribute to this appreciation. This distinction is crucial since it gives Judaism its metaphysical uniqueness.

It is true that miracles testify to Hashem’s existence and providence. This testimony is of the utmost importance, as is clear from the dozens of mitzvos we have which commemorate the miraculous Exodus from Egypt. But the feelings of awe and wonder evoked by such miracles quickly fade. Even when the miracles are perpetual, such as the falling of the mahn (manna) during the 40 years in the Wilderness, their impact eventually wears off.

In contrast, the impact of chochmas Hashem (God’s wisdom) as revealed in His Torah and His universe is anything but fleeting. The more knowledge one gains, the deeper and more enduring one’s feelings of reverence will be. The highest state attainable by a human being is ahavas Hashem (love of God), which stems from an appreciation of chochmas Hashem as manifest in the laws of Torah and nature. Miracles instill a measure of yiras Hashem (awe and fear of God) but they detract from the beauty of His systems, and it is this beauty which makes nature “precious in His eyes.” True ahavah comes from an appreciation of unadulterated chochmas Hashem.

Chazal (Shabbos 88a) teach us that the events of Purim led to a national re-acceptance of Torah. Unlike the acceptance of Torah at Sinai, which was compelled by yirah, the re-acceptance of the Torah at Purim was out of ahavah. The entire Jewish people were moved by their recognition of the values and ideals of Torah, which they observed in Mordechai and Esther, and by Hashem’s swift and undeniable response to the nationwide tefilah and teshuvah. This recognition on the part of the Jewish people marked a new stage of development. It is for this reason that Purim – the sof kol ha’nissim – is compared to the dawn. The Purim salvation proved that we, as a nation, were capable of relating to Hashem through appreciation of His Torah, without any need for open miracles.

Like the geulah of Purim, the final geulah at the time of Moshiach will be without miracles, as Chazal teach us: “There is no difference between This World and the Messianic Era except for the subjugation of [gentile] governments alone” (Sanhedrin 99a). Nevertheless, even without miracles, the ultimate geulah will be so wondrous that the grandeur of the redemption from Egypt will pale in comparison, as the navi states:

“Therefore, behold, days are coming – the word of Hashem – when they will no longer say, 'As Hashem lives, Who took the Children of Israel up out of the Land of Egypt' but instead [they will say], 'As Hashem lives, Who took Israel up and brought the House of Israel from the land of the north and from all the lands to which He had dispersed them, and will settle them on their land.” (Yirmiyahu 23:7-8)

The events of Purim show us that we, as a nation, have moved past the darkness of our need for open miracles and are currently in the era of the dawn. Daybreak is a certainty: “My soul [yearns] for Hashem among those waiting for the morning” – the morning we know will come. May the final geulah arrive speedily in our days!

Let me know what you think!

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