The Fire That Must Not Go Out | Parshas Tzva (5786)
How the fire of the mizbeach joins heaven and earth.
Parashas Tzav starts with a new word. I don’t mean a new word in that we haven’t seen this word before. I mean new in a narrative sense. The word is צַו (tzav): command.
HaKadosh Baruch Hu speaks to Moshe and says to him, “Command Aharon and his sons.” That is interesting. Last week, Hashem said to Moshe, “Have a conversation with the Jewish people about these korbanos.” This week, He’s telling Moshe to command Aharon about these same korbanos.
What’s the difference?
Rashi:
צו — אין צו אלא לשון זירוז מיד ולדורות
Tzav — tzav is nothing other than the language of urging, immediately and for all generations. (Rashi on Vayikra 6:2)
A conversation, evidently, does not have the same sense of urgency as a command. It’s information, preparation for the moment when you will need to act.
A command, on the other hand, means get going right now.
And what is it that Aharon and his sons need to do right away? It has to do with fire.
צַו אֶת אַהֲרֹן וְאֶת בָּנָיו לֵאמֹר זֹאת תּוֹרַת הָעֹלָה הִוא הָעֹלָה עַל מוֹקְדָהּ עַל הַמִּזְבֵּחַ כׇּל הַלַּיְלָה עַד הַבֹּקֶר וְאֵשׁ הַמִּזְבֵּחַ תּוּקַד בּוֹ
Command Aharon and his sons, saying: This is the teaching of the olah — it is the olah, upon its burning place, upon the mizbeach, all the night until the morning, and the fire of the mizbeach shall be kindled on it. (Vayikra 6:2)
The korban olah has to be put on something called a מוֹקְדָה (mokdah). Now I don’t 100% know what the word mokdah means, but my (not yet) working hypothesis is that it has to do with kindling. Perhaps it’s the place where the fire is kindling. Or the state of being kindled.
Not sure. The key point for us, though, is that it relates to fire.
The olah is going to be on the mokdah — on the place that’s lit with fire — all night long until the morning.
Now, this is not the only reference to fire in this short little section. We are also told that אֵשׁ הַמִּזְבֵּחַ תּוּקַד בּוֹ (eish hamizbeach tukad bo) — the fire of the mizbeach will be kindled on it.
So we are connecting the fire to the mizbeach. The fire is kindled on the mizbeach, and the olah goes on that fire. It doesn’t just go on the mizbeach — it specifically goes on the fire of the mizbeach.
And it’s this fire — and the olah that goes on it — that Aharon (and his sons) are commanded to tend to immediately.
Fire has (once again) come to the fore.
We saw fire play a prominent role at the sneh. We saw fire play a prominent role at Har Sinai.
And now we are seeing fire play a prominent role in the Mishkan.
But it’s not just the fire that gets prime play in our parsha. It’s also the ash which the fire creates:
וְלָבַשׁ הַכֹּהֵן מִדּוֹ בַד וּמִכְנְסֵי בַד יִלְבַּשׁ עַל בְּשָׂרוֹ וְהֵרִים אֶת הַדֶּשֶׁן אֲשֶׁר תֹּאכַל הָאֵשׁ אֶת הָעֹלָה עַל הַמִּזְבֵּחַ וְשָׂמוֹ אֵצֶל הַמִּזְבֵּחַ
The kohen shall put on his linen garment, and his linen breeches he shall put upon his flesh, and he shall lift up the deshen that the fire has consumed of the olah upon the mizbeach, and place it beside the mizbeach. (Vayikra 6:3)
That דֶּשֶׁן (deshen), the mefarshim say, is a fatty type of ash.
Ash. That is familiar.
Remember the chet ha’eigel — Moshe ground it down until it was very fine, dust-like.
And the parah adumah was burned until it became אֵפֶר (efer) — ash (Bamidbar 19:9).
And just like the ash (אֵפֶר — efer) of the parah is taken to a מָקוֹם טָהוֹר (makom tahor — a “pure” place), so too the ash (הַדֶּשֶׁן — deshen) is taken to a pure place.
Once again, we see a connected theme. And we note that connection.
And once again, we note a variation off of that theme — efer vs deshen.
Why the difference? As always, we start with not knowing — and (bezras Hashem) work our way from there to some levels of understanding.
Today we will merely mention the deshen, without trying to figure it out. But we will leave some mental notes.
Note #1: Pay attention if (in our journey through the yam shel Torah) any clues come that indicate what this may mean.
Note #2: Try and circle back to this quesiton some day.
With that said, let’s return to the fire.
We have been waiting to find the fire. We have already noted the call and the cloud — הקרִיאָה and הענן. We saw how the cloud covered both Har Sinai and the Mishkan. And we noted that there was a call both at Har Sinai and the Mishkan (not to mention the Sneh — and elsewhere).
And so we figured that it was only a matter of time until we found the fire. And now we have. Yes, it was also mentioned last week — but now it is taking center stage.
And as we look further at this command to Aharon, we notice how much focus is placed on this fire.
Aharon is told that the fire of the mizbeach will be kindled on it (i.e., on the mizbeach):
וְאֵ֥שׁ הַמִּזְבֵּ֖חַ תּ֥וּקַד בּֽוֹ
And the fire of the mizbeach shall be kindled on it. (Vayikra 6:2)
And then he is told that again.
וְהָאֵ֨שׁ עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֤חַ תּֽוּקַד־בּוֹ֙
And the fire on the mizbeach shall be kindled on it. (Vayikra 6:5)
And then again.
אֵ֗שׁ תָּמִ֛יד תּוּקַ֥ד עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֖חַ
A perpetual fire shall be kindled on the mizbeach. (Vayikra 6:6)
Furthermore, he is told not to extinguish that fire:
וְהָאֵ֨שׁ עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֤חַ תּֽוּקַד־בּוֹ֙ לֹ֣א תִכְבֶּ֔ה
And the fire on the mizbeach shall be kindled on it, you shall not extinguish it. (Vayikra 6:5)
And then he is told that again:
אֵ֗שׁ תָּמִ֛יד תּוּקַ֥ד עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֖חַ לֹ֣א תִכְבֶּ֔ה
A perpetual fire shall be kindled on the mizbeach, you shall not extinguish it. (Vayikra 6:6)
Why the repetition? We don’t know. And we won’t focus on it today. But we will create some mental notes.
The point is, this fire is important. Or, put otherwise, there is something about the mizbeach and fire that is of central importance.
And that is something that we will focus on today.
But first, we have to take a closer look at fire itself.
Seeing Fire Everywhere
There is an interesting “side-effect” of this Dvar Torah. Now that I’m looking for fire, I’m seeing it everywhere. Well, in a lot of places.
For example, the Bris Bein HaBesari — aka the covenant between the pieces. G-d is “represented” by fire. Or, more accurately, a flame of fire:
וַיְהִ֤י הַשֶּׁ֙מֶשׁ֙ בָּ֔אָה וַעֲלָטָ֖ה הָיָ֑ה וְהִנֵּ֨ה תַנּ֤וּר עָשָׁן֙ וְלַפִּ֣יד אֵ֔שׁ אֲשֶׁ֣ר עָבַ֔ר בֵּ֖ין הַגְּזָרִ֥ים הָאֵֽלֶּה׃
And the sun came down, and there was a deep darkness, and behold — a smoking furnace and a flame of fire that passed between these pieces. (Bereishis 15:17)
Let me explain what I mean by “represented”. G-d is make a covenant with Avraham. Essentially, he is “signing” a contract. So, how does the Creator indicate that He is “signing”, by having a flame of fire pass between the parts.
Now, this becomes even more interesting when we note the Hebrew word which I translated as “flame”. it’s אֵ֔שׁ (lapid).
That same word is used at Har Sinai, in the context of the Ten Statements (aka Ten Commandments):
וְכׇל־הָעָם֩ רֹאִ֨ים אֶת־הַקּוֹלֹ֜ת וְאֶת־הַלַּפִּידִ֗ם וכו׳
And all the people saw the voices and the flames (הַלַּפִּידִ֗ם — halapidim)...
And it becomes even more interesting when we remember that G-d descended upon Har Sinai in fire:
וְהַ֤ר סִינַי֙ עָשַׁ֣ן כֻּלּ֔וֹ מִ֠פְּנֵ֠י אֲשֶׁ֨ר יָרַ֥ד עָלָ֛יו יְהֹוָ֖ה בָּאֵ֑שׁ וַיַּ֤עַל עֲשָׁנוֹ֙ כְּעֶ֣שֶׁן הַכִּבְשָׁ֔ן
And Mount Sinai was all in smoke because Hashem descended upon it in fire, and the smoke ascended like the smoke of a kiln...
And honestly, that reference to a kiln at Har Sinai reminds me of the smoking oven at the Bris Bein HaBesarim. In essence, a kiln and an oven are the same thing, the only difference is what is inserted — food or clay.
The key takeaway — G-d can (and is) represented by fire. Which is interesting. And which leads us to wonder — why?
Let’s keep looking.
G-d smote Sedom and Amora with fire and brimstone:
וַֽיהֹוָ֗ה הִמְטִ֧יר עַל־סְדֹ֛ם וְעַל־עֲמֹרָ֖ה גׇּפְרִ֣ית וָאֵ֑שׁ וכו׳
And Hashem rained upon Sedom and Amora brimstone and fire...
And as it was with Sedom and Amora, so it was with the Egyptians:
וַיֵּ֨ט מֹשֶׁ֣ה אֶת־מַטֵּ֘הוּ֮ עַל־הַשָּׁמַ֒יִם֒ וַֽיהֹוָ֗ה נָתַ֤ן קֹלֹת֙ וּבָרָ֔ד וַתִּ֥הֲלַךְ אֵ֖שׁ אָ֑רְצָה וַיַּמְטֵ֧ר יְהֹוָ֛ה בָּרָ֖ד עַל־אֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרָֽיִם׃ וַיְהִ֣י בָרָ֔ד וְאֵ֕שׁ מִתְלַקַּ֖חַת בְּת֣וֹךְ הַבָּרָ֑ד וכו׳
And Moshe stretched out his staff toward the heavens, and Hashem sent thunder and hail, and fire went down to the earth, and Hashem rained hail upon the land of Mitzrayim. And there was hail, and fire flashing within the hail...
This is a hard verse to translate. But what’s not difficult is that once again G-d rained fire upon those that He punished.
So, G-d is represented by fire. And G-d uses fire to punish.
And there is more.
We were commanded in Egypt to eat the Korban Pesach צְלִי־אֵ֣שׁ (tzeili esh — roasted by fire).
The Torah is called an אֵשׁ דָּת (eish dat) — a fiery law.
Yirmiyahu HaNavi talks about the word of G-d burning like a fire inside him (וְהָיָ֤ה בְלִבִּי֙ כְּאֵ֣שׁ בֹּעֶ֔רֶת).
And I’m sure we can find other examples.
But for now, I want to focus our attention on one specific example.
Where There’s Wood There’s Fire
Let’s go back to the Akeida. Note the command and how Avraham responds.
For starters, what exactly is Avraham supposed to do? He is to offer Yitzchak as an olah:
וְהַעֲלֵ֤הוּ שָׁם֙ לְעֹלָ֔ה
And offer him there as an olah. (Bereishis 22:2)
Like the olah of our parsha — the one that goes on the mokda (מוקדה). In other words, where there is an olah, there’s fire.
And sure enough, Avraham gets up in the morning, saddles his donkey and starts chopping wood:
וַיַּשְׁכֵּ֨ם אַבְרָהָ֜ם בַּבֹּ֗קֶר וַֽיַּחֲבֹשׁ֙ אֶת־חֲמֹר֔וֹ וַיִּקַּ֞ח אֶת־שְׁנֵ֤י נְעָרָיו֙ אִתּ֔וֹ וְאֵ֖ת יִצְחָ֣ק בְּנ֑וֹ וַיְבַקַּע֙ עֲצֵ֣י עֹלָ֔ה
And Avraham got up in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took with him two of his servants and Yitzchak his son, and he chopped wood for the olah. (Bereishis 22:3)
Wood. For the olah. Because an olah gets placed on the wood which is on the fire:
וְ֠נָתְנ֠וּ בְּנֵ֨י אַהֲרֹ֧ן הַכֹּהֵ֛ן אֵ֖שׁ עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֑חַ וְעָרְכ֥וּ עֵצִ֖ים עַל־הָאֵֽשׁ׃ וְעָרְכ֗וּ בְּנֵ֤י אַהֲרֹן֙ הַכֹּ֣הֲנִ֔ים אֵ֚ת הַנְּתָחִ֔ים אֶת־הָרֹ֖אשׁ וְאֶת־הַפָּ֑דֶר עַל־הָעֵצִים֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר עַל־הָאֵ֔שׁ אֲשֶׁ֖ר עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּֽחַ׃
And the sons of Aharon the kohen shall put fire on the mizbeach and arrange wood on the fire, and the sons of Aharon the kohanim shall arrange the pieces, the head and the fat, on the wood that is on the fire that is on the mizbeach. (Vayikra 1:7)
Indeed, this is what the Kohanim do each and every morning:
וּבִעֵ֨ר עָלֶ֧יהָ הַכֹּהֵ֛ן עֵצִ֖ים בַּבֹּ֣קֶר בַּבֹּ֑קֶר וְעָרַ֤ךְ עָלֶ֙יהָ֙ הָֽעֹלָ֔ה
And the kohen shall burn wood on it in the morning, and arrange the olah on it. (Vayikra 6:9)
So here is Avraham Avinue, in the morning, chopping wood which he plans to place on the Mizbeach and kindle so that he can place the olah on top of it.
Three days later, and they see “the place” from a distance. Avraham takes the wood and gives it to Yitzchak to carry. Avraham has something else that he needs to bring — the fire (and something else):
וַיִּקַּ֨ח אַבְרָהָ֜ם אֶת־עֲצֵ֣י הָעֹלָ֗ה וַיָּ֙שֶׂם֙ עַל־יִצְחָ֣ק בְּנ֔וֹ וַיִּקַּ֣ח בְּיָד֔וֹ אֶת־הָאֵ֖שׁ וְאֶת־הַֽמַּאֲכֶ֑לֶת וַיֵּלְכ֥וּ שְׁנֵיהֶ֖ם יַחְדָּֽו
And Avraham took the wood of the olah and placed it upon Yitzchak his son, and he took in his hand the fire and the ma’acheles, and they both went together. (Bereishis 22:6)
Now, I haven’t translated that word הַֽמַּאֲכֶ֑לֶת (ma’acheles). Rashi (and the Rashbam), will soon enoug tell us that it’s a knife.
But I want to focus on something besides its meaning. I want to focus on its root: א-כ-ל (alef-kaf-lamed) — because we find that word associated with fire over and over again.
At Har Sinai, G-d’s honor (כבוד) is described as being like a consuming fire (אֵשׁ אֹכְלָה):
וּמַרְאֵה֙ כְּב֣וֹד יְהֹוָ֔ה כְּאֵ֥שׁ אֹכֶ֖לֶת בְּרֹ֣אשׁ הָהָ֑ר
And the appearance of the kavod of Hashem was like a consuming fire on the mountaintop. (Shemos 24:17)
Indeed, Moshe Rabbeinu himself describes G-d Himself as being an אֵשׁ אֹכְלָה (eish ochla) — a consuming fire:
כִּי יְהֹוָ֤ה אֱלֹהֶ֨יךָ֙ אֵ֣שׁ אֹכְלָ֔ה הוּא אֵ֖ל קַנָּֽא
For Hashem your G-d is a consuming fire, a jealous G-d. (Devarim 4:24)
At the Sneh, what is remarkable is the fact that the Sneh is not consumed (אֵינֶנּוּ אֻכָּל — einenu uchal) by the fire.
And remember that deshen (דֶּשֶׁן) that we discussed above? That deshen was created by the fire consuminig (אכל — achal) the olah on the mizbeach:
וְהֵרִים אֶת הַדֶּשֶׁן אֲשֶׁר תֹּאכַל הָאֵשׁ אֶת הָעֹלָה עַל הַמִּזְבֵּחַ וְשָׂמוֹ אֵצֶל הַמִּזְבֵּחַ
And he shall lift up the deshen that the fire has consumed of the olah upon the mizbeach, and place it beside the mizbeach. (Vayikra 6:3)
And so, here we are, on a mountain. Indeed, a mountain (Har Moriah) which is very much like Har Sinai. A mountain which will eventually become known as Har HaBayis.
And we have a mizbeach — like the mizbeach in the Mishkan and (eventually) in the Beis HaMikdash. And we are being told that Avraham took both the fire and that consuming item.
I get that it means a knife. Rashi gives two explanations for why it means a knife. But all these other associations tell me that it’s not for naught that the Torah uses this word in particular to refernce the knife.
And when we take a deeper look at the grammar of the word itself, we see something quite interesting. The root of the word is a three letter root: א-כ-ל (alef-kaf-lamed).
This seems common enough.
But look deeper, there seems to be a two letter root “hidden” within that three letter root: כ-ל (kaf-lamed).
A root which means completion, as in And G-d completed (וַיְכַ֤ל — vayechal) on the seventh the work he had done.
But a root that also means destruction, as in:
יַדְבֵּ֧ק יְהֹוָ֛ה בְּךָ֖ אֶת־הַדָּ֑בֶר עַ֚ד כַּלֹּת֣וֹ אֹֽתְךָ֔ מֵעַל֙ הָאֲדָמָ֔ה אֲשֶׁר־אַתָּ֥ה בָא־שָׁ֖מָּה לְרִשְׁתָּֽהּ׃
Hashem will cause the pestilence to cling to you, until it has completely finished you off from upon the land that you are coming there to inherit. (Devarim 28:21)
Indeed, the Malbim in his work Ayelet HaShachar directly relates the two words:
שפעל ‘אכל’ מציין פעולת האש עצמו שאוכל ומכלה את הגשם
The verb “achal” (אכל) indicates the action of the fire itself that eats and completley finishes a physical substance.
It’s as if the root itself is combined of a more fundamental (כל) with an alef as a prefix. Which seems to be one of the ways that Hebrew roots are formed (Rav Hirsch, I believe, has a theory about this).
Fire has the ability to totally and completely destroy something — so much so that at the end there basically nothing left. Indeed, whatever ash (deshen or efer) is left is utterly and totally devoid of any of the substance and essence that was previously there.
That makes sense by fire. But by a knife? Not as much so. True, we find the same root (א-כ-ל) used in reference to a sword (as Rashi and the Rashbam note):
וְחַרְבִּי תֹּאכַל בָּשָׂר
And my sword will eat flesh. (Yeshayahu 31:8)
But this usage is difficult — which may be why Rashi explains why a knife is called a ma’acheles:
וְשֶׁמַּכְשֶׁרֶת בָּשָׂר לַאֲכִילָה
Because it prepares the flesh for eating.
In other words, in its essence, a knife is not a ma’acheles. It does not consume. Rather, it enables consumption.
And who (or what) is the consumer? In our case here it is the fire on the mizbeach. Yet another time where in fire is “representing” G-d.
Put otherwise, the knife “prepares” the flesh to be totally and utterly destroyed on the mizbeach.
It will be consumed by fire, because that is what fire does. And that is what an olah is about — total and physical destruction of the physical substance of a given entity.
At the Akeida it was Yitzchak’s physical body that G-d had asked Avraham to destroy.
In the Mishkan, it is the physical body of the korban that is being totally and utterly consumed on the mizbeach.
And this is a quality that G-d Himself has. G-d is called an Eish Ochla (אֵשׁ אֹכְלָה) — a consuming fire.
Why? Well, perhaps this verse can give us a sense as to why:
וְעַתָּה֙ הַנִּ֣יחָה לִּ֔י וְיִֽחַר־אַפִּ֥י בָהֶ֖ם וַאֲכַלֵּ֑ם וְאֶֽעֱשֶׂ֥ה אוֹתְךָ֖ לְג֥וֹי גָּדֽוֹל
And now, leave me alone, and let my anger burn against them and I will consume them, and I will make you into a great nation. (Shemos 32:10)
At the Chet HaEgel, G-d was essentially asking Moshe to “allow” Him to totally and utterly destroy the Jewish people. We wouldn’t even be a footnote in a history book.
Totally and utterly gone. Essentially erased from existence. If anything remained, it would just be the ash of our previous existence. Nothing more.
Thus Moshe’s warning to the Jewish people:
הִשָּׁמְר֣וּ לָכֶ֗ם פֶּֽן־תִּשְׁכְּחוּ֙ אֶת־בְּרִ֤ית יְהֹוָה֙ אֱלֹ֣הֵיכֶ֔ם אֲשֶׁ֥ר כָּרַ֖ת עִמָּכֶ֑ם וַעֲשִׂיתֶ֨ם לָכֶ֥ם פֶּ֙סֶל֙ תְּמ֣וּנַת כֹּ֔ל אֲשֶׁ֥ר צִוְּךָ֖ יְהֹוָ֥ה אֱלֹהֶֽיךָ׃ כִּ֚י יְהֹוָ֣ה אֱלֹהֶ֔יךָ אֵ֥שׁ אֹכְלָ֖ה ה֑וּא אֵ֖ל קַנָּֽא
Guard yourselves, lest you forget the covenant of Hashem your G-d that He made with you, and you make for yourselves a carved image, a form of anything that Hashem your G-d commanded you not to. For Hashem your G-d is a consuming fire, a jealous G-d. (Devarim 4:23-24)
Be careful, says Moshe. G-d, in all His glory, has a certain destructive capacity to Him. Not a vindicative quality. Not a vengeful one. When fire destroys, it doesn’t do so out of mallace or spite. It does so because this is its nature if not handled properly.
Of course, fire can be of great benefit. And how much more so can a deep and meaningful relationship with the Creator of all that is.
But be careful. With that benefit comes a risk — the risk of total and utter destruction.
And so, we see here, this quality of fire. It’s destructive quality. And we see that it is that quality that we want on the Mizbeach.
And all we can wonder is, why?
Why would the Creator of all that is want us to use the ultimate destructive force when serving Him?
Why would that same G-d who planted a garden and place man there to work it and guard it, want us to use fire?
And why, on the place that would eventually become the replacement for that garden — the Beis HaMikdash — would He want us to use fire?
Why destruction in the heart of construction?
Construction or Destruction
All of the above is true — fire has the ability to destroy. But that is not all that fire can do.
Fire can cook. It can transform our food from something that we cannot eat, to something that can nourish and sustain us.
It can refine. It can take something that is impure and separate out the impurities, leaving behind something that is pure.
It can provide warmth when it is cold and light when it is dark.
In short, fire is a force. A powerful force that can be constructive or destructive — depending upon how we use it.
This is why it is such a good “representative” for G-d. It’s its combination of creative flexibility and destructive potential that makes it a fitting symbol for the Creator.
And the place where that is most clearly visible is on the mizbeach itself.
The mizbeach is not simply the place where we bring korbanos. It is also a source of other fires in their various forms.
The light of the Menorah is (one way or the other) sourced from the fire of the mizbeach.
The incense burns from coals taken from the fire of the mizbeach.
And the Kohen Gadol enters the Kadosh HaKadoshim with a fire pan (a מַחְתָּה) filled with coals taken from the fire of the mizbeach.
Put otherwise, you want to shine the light of Torah out to the world (the Menorah)? Then you need the fire of the mizbeach.
You want the unity and inner richness of the Torah (the incense)? Then you need the fire of the mizbeach.
You want the transformative power of teshuva on Yom Kippur (the machta)? Then you need the fire of the mizbeach.
In short, the destructive heart of the mizbeach is also the constructive source for much of the avoda of the Beis HaMikdash.
In short. If we really want to understand fire and its importance in the Torah — it seems like the mizbeach is the place to look.
Two Fires, One Altar
Up until this time, we have been talking about the fire on the mizbeach — as if there is one.
But, according to Rashi (based on Chazal) there were two fires on the mizbeach. The one that came down from heaven and the one that we (man) raise up to the altar:
אַעַ”פִּי שֶׁהָאֵשׁ יוֹרֶדֶת מִן הַשָּׁמַיִם מִצְוָה לְהָבִיא מִן הַהֶדְיוֹט
Even though fire descends from heaven, it is a mitzvah to bring from the ordinary — from human hands.
Two fires. One altar.
Interesting. And confusing.
Does anyone out there have any idea what a heavenly fire look like? Does it function any different?
In short, what is the difference between a heavenly fire and the earthly one that we bring?
Physically speaking, I don’t know. But there is another type of fire — the one that Yirmiyahu HaNavi mentioned — the fire of passion.
He talked about G-d’s word burning inside him like a fire.
That is an example of a heavenly fire.
And there are more like it.
The Meeting Point
G-d’s fire came down to Yirmiyahu and burned inside him.
This is the fire of truth and values.
Of meaning and purpose. Of principles and ideals.
These fires come down from heaven and inspire and move us. Both as individuals and as communities.
They are the fires of movements and ideologies.
Of schools of thoughts and worldviews.
They are lofty.
On high.
Intellectual.
Spiritual.
They are heavenly fires
The earthly fires are of a different nature.
There are our drives and desires. Our emotions and wants.
They are lowly. Animalistic. Base.
They are the earthly fires.
And we are commanded to lift these up onto the mizbeach where they can meet up with and connect to the heavenly fires.
In other words, both fires need to be on G-d’s altar. The fire of values and the fires of drives. That is the consuming fire we want — when are base, animalistic self is in sync with our higher, spiritual self.
Both alive. Both passionate. And both in sync with G-d’s will.
That is the fire that Aharon and his sons were commanded to place on the mizbeach. That is the fire that has to burn all night long — even in the most difficult times.
And that is the fire that we can never extinguish.
And if we learn to kindle that fire — then (and only then) can we kindle the other fires.
The flame of the menorah. The coals of the ketores. The fire pan of Yom Kippur.
It’s all there, sourced in the union of the earthly and heavenly fires.