I am fascinated by the beginning part of the Torah portion this week, where we are told that after all the work of the sacrifices, the tending to the Eternal Flame, there would be ashes remaining in the pit. If these ashes built up too much, they would douse the flames, so every morning, they needed to be cleaned out. Now we would imagine this job would fall to the Levites, the Temple cleaners, whose job was to help the priests with their sacred work. Or perhaps it would be outsourced to a Temple cleaning company who would come in every morning, like little angels and clear away the grime and dirt ready for the priests to do their holy work. But it was neither of these options; the Torah tells us that the Priests were required to come in and clean up after themselves.
Now I know what you are thinking, just last week we read about the robes of the priests: the gold and crimson, the bells, the lapis, I mean, they were something, and now we are told they need to be cleaned? What about those robes? But the Torah thinks of everything; they are told to throw on their plain linen britches and get down and dirty and clean out the ashes. Imagine that! The Priests, used to being in their finery, put on regular clothes and cleaned up. Rabbi Ben Spratt, in his commentary, writes:
“Imagine for a moment the President of the United States taking the Oval Office garbage out to the curb every morning. Imagine CEOs of Fortune 500 companies regularly cleaning out the corporate boardrooms to begin a day of business offerings. Here we have even Aaron the High Priest commanded to shovel ash in a sh’mata.” (Reform Judaism, Parashat Tzav, never too proud to wield the sacred shovel).
So why was this task specifically designated to the High Priest and his priests? Why not just leave it to chance, or get whoever to do it? Rabbi Bahya Ibn Pakuda says that this task was given to the Priests to ensure they retained their humility. That they would always remember that they are no better than anyone else. Beginning their day by cleaning up, removing ashes, a dirty and difficult job, it kept their egos in check and reminded them that they are not exempt from any duty. There could be a tendency, by virtue of their status and position, that they see themselves as somehow above the regular people, that their fame, their power, and their clothing were all signs of their superiority. The Torah is aware of this human foible and took steps to ensure that the priests would always remember to whom they were answerable, and that not only were they not above others, they were there to serve the people and their needs, not the other way around.
But I believe there is more to it. I think it is also a reminder of the holiness of every task, especially the ones for which we receive no accolades or thanks. Every act of service in the Temple is holy, from the Priests and the sacrifices, to cleaning up afterwards. The lesson is more than a reminder that no person is too good for any task; it is also teaching that no task is more worthy than another when it comes to creating a holy space and worship and connection with God.
I remembered an article I read many years ago, but despite extensive searches, I have been unable to find it that posed the question: “What are the holy and sacred acts which happen in the synagogue?” At first, the obvious ones were suggested: the rabbis leading the prayer, the congregants singing, the music which elevates the soul and so on. But then the author said that for them, the most holy and sacred acts are performed by the volunteers who put out the chairs and pack them away afterwards. Their work is as holy and sacred as the leader standing in front, because without the chairs, there would be no prayer. The person who sets them out and puts them away has enabled the space to become a holy place of gathering; their act has enabled the worship or whatever sacred act is happening to occur. It is unlikely that a person will receive any praise or thanks, but their contribution is as important as the others, perhaps more so, because it is done quietly and with an open heart and no expectation of reward. And these acts are happening all the time in the synagogue, in any place of gathering and spirituality.
We are about to enter into the season of Pesach: we will gather at sedarim, we will enjoy (or not) matzah, charoset, and the community being together. But for each one of these moments to occur, hundreds of smaller acts must happen. Let’s try to remember the sacredness of every task, not just the ones that receive accolades and feel the blessings of every person who helps us enter into sacred moments. And understand that all our tasks can be holy work.
Shabbat Shalom
Rabbi Jacqueline Ninio