At the opening of the Torah portion Tzav, the priests are commanded to begin each day by removing a portion of the ash that had accumulated on the altar and placing it next to the altar. This was distinct from the cleaning of ash from the altar itself, which was done every few days when the pile had grown high and was disposed of outside the camp.
The daily act of removing a portion of ash and placing it beside the altar is referred to as terumat hadeshen/“the offering of the ash,” and the verse instructs the priest to herim es hadeshen/“lift up the ash.” What is the significance of this strange practice of beginning each day by elevating the previous day’s ashes?
Ashes are the residue that is left behind when a fire burns and elevates that which was placed on the flames. Those aspects that could be utilized to create light and warmth were consumed, and that portion which was nothing but the basest earthly matter remains after the fire has come and gone. Ash, the mystics explain, represents that part of yesterday that we were unable to elevate. We lifted up as much as we could, but there are those things so devoid of vitality that we could not succeed in refining or transforming them.
But the terumat hadeshen/“offering of ash” teaches that we should not be discouraged by yesterday’s inabilities. Today, we begin by taking a pan of yesterday’s ash and offering it up to signify that we will try again, and that there is sacredness even in our past failings. Our work is holy, even if it is imperfect and even when it yields nothing more than this seemingly useless gray matter. This ash is the inevitable by-product of the fire we ignite. As long as we do not become discouraged, we can utilize it to fertilize the earth within us and around us, and precipitate future growth.
As the Shabbat of Tzav leads directly into Passover this year, we can apply this profound message to the work of liberation that we perform annually at this time. Some may feel discouraged by the fact that we are approaching the holiday again, and last Passover’s hopes and plans for personal freedom have still not been fulfilled. Every year, we intend to go out from our meitzarim/“limitations,” but we find ourselves back in Mitzrayim (Egypt) yet again, striving repeatedly to overcome the same challenges, addictions and shortcomings.
This is precisely the trick of our internal Pharaoh that keeps us captive. Egypt is a mindset, and Pharaoh and his minions enslave us by convincing us that we are incapable of ever breaking free.
The offering of the ash teaches us not to be disheartened and never to give up hope. Spiritual development is not a straight line, but rather a spiral. We keep coming around to the places we have been before, and each time, we are more experienced and informed than we were previously.
Though we may struggle with old obstacles, we can take from the ashes of our past and utilize them to elevate ourselves even slightly higher than we formerly were. In this way, Passover this year can take us incrementally further beyond the boundaries of Egypt than we reached last year, and with God’s help, we will finally experience the complete liberation and redemption and finally reach the Promised Land.
