Parashat Tzav opens with the following words: “The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Command Aaron and his sons thus: 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. The priest shall dress in linen raiment, with linen breeches next to his body; and he shall take up the ashes to which the fire has reduced the burnt offering on the altar and place them beside the altar. He shall then take off his vestments and put on other vestments, and carry the ashes outside the camp to a pure place. The fire on the altar shall be kept burning, not to go out.” (Leviticus 6:1–4)
The deshen – the ash – is what remains after the burnt offering is consumed, and the Torah prescribes exactly what must be done with it. The priest would don special garments, scoop ash and coals from the altar, and follow a precise protocol that dictated how many steps to take and in which direction before emptying the vessel onto the Temple courtyard floor. Other priests would then gather the previous day’s ash, readying the altar for the new day. When large quantities of ash accumulated, it was carried outside the camp.
Why attach such importance to clearing away the ash? Is it not merely residue?
After the fire
The Torah has a way of speaking in symbols – or at the very least that is how we tend to read it. Parashat Tzav concerns itself not with the blazing sacrifice, but with what remains after it. Not the dramatic burning, but the careful handling of what is left behind.
The ritual teaches that what remains deserves sacred attention, its own protocol, its own dignity. The ash is not swept away carelessly. It requires proper garments, proper vessels, proper steps, and proper placement.
This principle extends beyond the altar. The passage is not about trauma but about tending to its aftermath; not about the seven days of mourning but about the soul contending with loss for years; not about war but about what it leaves in its wake.
Clearing the ash
In one of her most insightful poems, Nobel Prize-winning poet Wisława Szymborska wrote that ‘after every war, someone has to clean up.’ The poet says that one cannot expect order to restore itself, and so there will be those who must create it. The poem can be read here (“The End and the Beginning,” translated by Joanna Trzeciak).
Szymborska turns her gaze to clearing the ash. After cameras leave the site of the rocket strike, someone clears the ruins; exhausted workers fill craters and rebuild. It takes time, it is not easy, and no one treats you as a hero. And the shattered windows of the soul? Those, too, hopefully get repaired over the years.
Then, very quickly – perhaps too quickly – we forget the causes and turn away from most consequences. In the space that opens, someone will lie with a blade of grass between the teeth, gazing at clouds. To look upward. To see beyond. That is the way of the world.
What remains between us
Perhaps, all of this speaks to searching for chametz on the eve of Passover, nearly upon us. We search for crumbs; we clean shelves; we check forgotten corners; we burn what we find and render whatever is left null in our hearts.
But what of what remains between us – between one wounded soul and another? The Talmud teaches: “With regard to a hole in a wall that is between a house belonging to one person and a house belonging to another, this neighbor searches to the point that his hand reaches, and that neighbor searches to the point that his hand reaches. And as for leaven found in the rest of the hole, each one renders it null and void in his heart.” (Babylonian Talmud, Pesachim 8a)
Some remnants lie beyond reach – in the space between neighboring souls, in hollow places where hands cannot reach. The Torah’s ritual of clearing the ash teaches us to tend carefully to what remains. The Talmud reminds us that perfect clearing is impossible. We reach as far as we can, and what lies beyond – we must learn to nullify in our hearts.
Lior Tal Sadeh is an educator, writer, and author of “What Is Above, What Is Below” (Carmel, 2022). He hosts the daily “Source of Inspiration” podcast, produced by Beit Avi Chai.
For more insights into Parashat Tzav, listen to “Source of Inspiration”.
Translation of most Hebrew texts sourced from Sefaria.or
Main Photo: The Tabernacle, Camp\ Wikipedia
