We get so caught up in our pursuit of the material – money, property and “stuff”, pleasures and conveniences – that we lose touch with God’s presence.
The Olympic flame made its way from Athens to Tokyo, traveling in a mostly empty plane. There was a lighting ceremony upon its arrival, one that organizers admit should not have occurred, but its flame will not be transferred to the Olympic Torch this summer, as the games have been postponed for the first time in history. So, what will become of the flame? It will remain in Tokyo and be kept burning until the start of the games in the summer of 2021.
The great efforts being taken to keep the Olympic flame alive are reminiscent of the command found within this week’s Torah portion, Tzav, regarding the flame that burned on the altar in the Tabernacle and later in the Temple: “This is the ritual of the burnt offering: The burnt offering itself shall remain where it is burned upon the altar all night until morning, While the fire on the altar is kept going on it [within it]. (bo)” (Leviticus 6: 2)
Much like the Olympic flame, the flame of the altar – which inspired the later practice of having a ner tamid, or eternal light in Jewish sanctuaries – was even kept burning when the Israelites broke camp and journeyed through the wilderness.
In Vayikra Rabbah, Rabbi Pinchas points out that the Torah does not say the fire should be kept burning on it [ie. The burnt offering]. Rather, it states the fire should be kept burning in it, meaning the flames should be coming from within the altar. Many later commentators draw an analogy between the fire on the altar and the fire that should be kept burning “within” our hearts: our passion for God, Torah and tradition, our love of Israel, our community and our fellow human beings, our desire to elevate ourselves and our world like a flame that reaches upward toward the heavens.
When the Israelites journeyed between camps, the flame within the altar was carried outside, in the elements at all times. In Pirke Avot we are told that miraculously, the flame never went out, even when subjected to pouring rain. Still, one might ask: If God wanted to miraculously keep the flame burning, why did God not just stop the rain from falling on the fire?
Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin taught that the Hebrew word for rain – geshem – has the same three letter root as the word Gashmiut – materialism. Rabbi Chaim observes that sometimes we ignore the “flame” and instead focus on the “rain.” We get so caught up in our pursuit of the material – money, property and “stuff”, pleasures and conveniences – that we lose touch with God’s presence. When we do, our lives can feel as cold and wet as we would if we were outside without a raincoat or umbrella on a stormy early spring day. In truth, however, everything that really matters in life is not found in the “rain” of Gashmiut. It is rooted instead in the flame of God. It is in the comforting warmth of that flame that we find a sense of security, strength, direction and meaning in our lives.
The precautions required by the stay at home order have forced us to let go of some of the material things that we thought gave us joy. No longer can we go out to fancy restaurants, or theater. All our nicest clothes sit in our closet, our jewelry in its cases. Who would see us in them? We cannot even satisfy our never-ending urge to achieve instant self-gratification by shopping. The stores are all closed, and Amazon is so busy shipping essential supplies that anything else takes a long time to arrive. Our investments and retirement funds have shrunk, forcing many to re-evaluate the type of life they will be able to live when this crisis abates.
Perhaps this sudden shift in our reality will help us to learn how many things we thought we needed but can actually be just fine without. Perhaps it will help us learn that all those material things and conveniences really were not – are not – what we care most about. Perhaps we will learn to come in from the rain, and turn our hearts back to God, grateful for the gifts God has given us and ready to share those gifts more freely with others. Perhaps we will come to value that which is most precious in life: health, love, family, community, kindness, mercy and justice.