Sermon given March 28, 2026.

This week is special for several reasons.

Of course, it’s special because Pesach is finally here. 

But for me personally, this week is special every year because it marks the anniversary of my conversion to Judaism. Each year when the anniversary rolls around-- always on the 13th of Nisan, so, yes, I always “Celebrate” by kashering my kitchen-- I think back to that day when I emerged from the mikveh and took my first steps in this world as a Jew. The Jewish story became my story. And it was fitting that I completed my conversion just hours before the beginning of Pesach, which is the holiday completely centered around telling and retelling our story. 

Now, because I am a convert and I didn’t have a formal bat mitzvah when I was 12 or 13, my rabbis at conversion suggested that I take this week’s Torah portion, Tzav, as “my” portion. Because this is the week that I received the yoke of the mitzvot upon myself as a Jewish adult, Tzav, in a way, will always have special meaning for me. And each year, I reread Tzav, I think about Passover, and I search for the lens that I would like to use at my seder that year. I look to see what jumps out to me, what lens I can use as I tell our people’s story for myself, right now, at this moment in time.   

And this year, as I read Tzav in preparation for Passover, what has jumped out to me is fire.

Not just the role fire plays in the Passover story-- and it does play a dramatic role. Over the course of the book of Shemot and into Vayikra, fire makes many appearances. Moses sees fire burning but not consuming the bush from which he hears the voice of God; fire rains down with hail on the Egyptians; and God appears as a pillar of fire to protect and guide the Israelites in the desert. We also use fire to burn our chametz, kasher our kitchens, and scald our hard-boiled eggs.

But fire plays another role in Parashat Tzav, a core, consistent, driving, energizing role.

The very first verses of Tzav, in fact, focus specifically on sacrificial fire on the altar in the Mishkan. The first verse describes the ascent offering, which must remain on the altar-fire which burns all night,  וְאֵ֥שׁ הַמִּזְבֵּ֖חַ תּ֥וּקַד בּֽוֹ: and the fire on the altar, the esh, will be burning. Continuously burning, our sages clarify.

The fifth verse returns to this fire and how important it is, reiterating the same phrase and adding to it וְהָאֵ֨שׁ עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֤חַ תּֽוּקַד־בּוֹ֙ לֹ֣א תִכְבֶּ֔ה-- this fire on the altar, the esh, will be continuously burning and shall not go out!

And in case we haven’t figured it out yet, verse 6 of parashat Tzav continues, reiterates yet again, and adds yet another important word, saying:

אֵ֗שׁ תָּמִ֛יד תּוּקַ֥ד עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֖חַ לֹ֥א תִכְבֶּֽה:

The always-fire on the altar will burn continuously and shall not go out!

Now, we recently read about another light that did not go out-- the Ner Tamid, like the light we have here above our ark, a special lamp checked twice a day in the Tabernacle. 

But in parashat Tzav, we aren’t talking about the Ner Tamid-- the always lamp, as I think of it-- we’re talking about the Esh Tamid-- the always fire. In fact, Rashi clarifies that the Esh Tamid we’re talking about this week is, in fact, the esh that was used to light the Ner Tamid, and to light all other fires for ritual use. Therefore it was incredibly important that no matter what was going on in and around the Mishkan, or in and around the camp, this fire must be kept “Esh tamid”, an always-burning source of energy, light, heat, and life.

When the Israelites were pursued in the wilderness by enemies-- the fire had to stay burning.

When mana rained down from heavens-- the fire had to stay burning.

When plagues struck-- the fire had to stay burning.

When the Israelites brought their daily offerings, their sin offerings, their ascent offerings, their guilt offerings, their offerings of well-being-- the fire had to stay burning. 

When the Israelites crossed into the Promised Land, even-- the fire had to stay burning. 

Our ancestors were going through an immense amount of change and stress.   

They did not know what life would look like in 5, 10, 20 years.

They were scared for their children.

They were scared for themselves as a nation.

And through it all, they carried with them a constantly burning, constantly guarded and nurtured, source of energy and warmth: they carried with them that esh tamid, that holy fire.

As we said before, not only does this week’s Torah portion repeatedly tell us that the fire was burned continuously-- in fact, within the individual verses themselves, the words are quite redundant. Consider verse six again:

אֵ֗שׁ תָּמִ֛יד תּוּקַ֥ד עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֖חַ לֹ֥א תִכְבֶּֽה:

This means, “always fire was continuously burnt on the altar and not put out”

If we’ve already said that it’s an always-fire, and that it’s continuously burning, why do we need to add “it will not be put out” at the end?

It turns out that our sages, over the centuries, have asked the same question. Rashi clarifies for us, explaining that

הַמְכַבֶּה אֵשׁ עַל הַמִּזְבֵּחַ עוֹבֵר בִּשְׁנֵי לָאוִין:

One who puts out this always-fire is actually transgressing against TWO commandments: both the commandment to have a perpetual fire, AND the commandment to use that fire to fulfill other commandments, namely goodwill offerings.

So. If we put out the fire, we are not only sinning by extinguishing it, but also sinning by prohibiting ourselves from doing the mitzvot which rely on the fire. And both parts of this verse, both mitzvot, are important for us today. 

I want to pause here and do a small exercise with all of you. We won’t have to break into groups or anything this time, I just want you to think, and then perhaps share, your answers to a question. The question is this: “which Jewish values/lessons most guide your personal choices, outlook, and philosophy?”

Or, to rephrase: which core Jewish concepts guide your life?

Let’s think about it for a minute. I’m going to offer you one or two of my favorites, and then I’d like to hear from you. (Pause for discussion, sharing/reading the following list):

Welcome the stranger.

If I am not for myself, who will be? If I am only for myself, what am I? If not now, when?

Tikkun olam.

Justice, justice you shall pursue.

Don’t distance yourself from the community. 

Every human is made btselem elohim, in the image of God. Every human is deserving of dignity.

Give tzedakah.

Save one life, save a whole world. 

Do justice and love mercy.

What is hateful to you, do not do to others. 

Love your neighbor as yourself. 

Each of us, as people and as Jews, has core values that drive us. If we are a locomotive, these values are the coal, the steam, the spark--the fire, if you will-- in our engine that lets us move forward. These values that guide our choices are, in effect, a source of energy, a source of life, a source of strength as we move about in the world. They are our own esh tamid, our own fire that burns within us and sustains us and inspires us, no matter what is happening in the world.

And right now, a LOT is happening in the world. 

And normally, this is when my conclusion would be a reminder that we are not alone, and that so many have gone before us from whom we can draw support. Our ancestors also knew upheaval in the wilderness. We can feel solidarity with them. 

But the thing is, we don’t just need solidarity right now. We need more. We need both parts of the commandment we zoomed in on this week in parashat Tzav: we need a fire within us that will not go out --that’s the values we just listed together-- and we need that fire to actively light something within us, something that helps us go out and be part of bringing this world closer to what we dream it could be.

That is to say, we need both the comfortable aspects of fire-- the warmth, the coziness, the energy-- and the uncomfortable parts of fire, the burning, the part that drives us to bring about necessary change, and to help make this world a reflection of the values we hold most dear. 

As we prepare to enter into this Pesach season, this Passover, parashat Tzav reminds us that within us each, there is an Esh Tamid, a sacred forever flame, a flame made up of our core values, driving and guiding us. As we sit with our most central story this week, as we talk about the narrow places in our world today that are in need of healing, that sacred flame will glow within us.

May our seders, and out conversations, fan that flame.

May our resolutions and our ideas be ignited by that flame, and fueled into action.

And finally, may the glow of our flame warm and inspire those around us in this world.

Shabbat shalom, and may everyone have a meaningful Pesach.