After completing the process of initiating the kohanim (priests), they are instructed to stay for seven days and nights at the entrance of the Ohel Moed (Tent of Meetings), and “observe G-d’s command so that [they] will not die…” (8:35). Why would the priests be bound to stay specifically at the tent’s entrance rather than somewhere more comfortable inside? Also, why is the threat of death invoked?

The Chatam Sofer offers a beautiful explanation and suggests that staying at the entrance is symbolic of how we should strive to live our lives: assuming we’re on the way out and never too comfortable. By living our days as if they were our last, we ensure that we will live our lives to the fullest and that our efforts, influence, and legacy last forever.

Our Parsha contains a passuk (verse) describing the inaugural Mincha offering as well as the daily Mincha offering, offered twice a day in perpetuity (6:13). If the offering is brought twice-daily, why do we need the added instructions of its being brought on the first day of service? Wouldn’t twice-daily be inclusive of the first time it’s offered?

Rav Moshe Feinstein extracts a meaningful lesson from this passuk. The kohen brings the same offering as his first day for every day of service to instill in him a sense of humility. While the kohen could easily get carried away with his status as a kohen, this daily mincha is an anchoring reminder that his service is a privilege not to be taken for granted. That initial gratitude of being in a position to contribute should be the prevailing attitude throughout our many roles in life.

Parshat Tzav relays the process of sacrifices, beginning with the Olah offering, which was entirely consumed by fire on the mizbeach (altar). The Pessukim (verses) explain that the fire should burn all night, after which the ashes are to be removed, while a fire shall remain burning (6:2-5). In the span of 5 Pessukim, the Torah then reiterates that the fire on the altar shall continue burning, and should not go out (6:6). Why would the Torah need to tell us three separate times that the fire on the altar should not be allowed to extinguish?

While the Gemara (tractate) explains that the three mentions involve different numbers of woodpiles that are to be arranged, there is another explanation that has a practical application for us. The altar represents an intersection between a person’s desire to right a personal wrong (our sacrifice), and G-d’s accepting and recognizing an improved person (the fire.) Even while we’re away from the altar, taking care of the ashes, G-d is telling us that He’s still there at the altar, ready for us to return with another personal sacrifice/improvement. Why does it tell us three times that the fire is always there for us?

Perhaps it’s to highlight that there’s always a place for us to go where self-improvement is recognized, where we do our part to improve the world, and G-d reciprocates our efforts and improves our world too. When times are tough, when we’re working on being better Jews and better people, and even when we’re taking out the trash, it’s comforting to know that our efforts are always recognized and that we’ll get the help we need to accomplish our goals.

Parshat Tzav lists the various types of sacrifices one would bring. The first one described is the Olah, which is completely sacrificed, with no opportunities for the priests to partake, and he brought twice a day, every day (6:2). This is followed by the Micha, Chatat and Asham offerings. The last one described is the Shlamim, given as an expression of gratitude (not related to any sin), and that is shared with the Kohen and the donor as well (7:11-15). Is there a reason for this particular order?

It could be that the sequence is a practical lesson for us: Relationships need to start with constant selfless giving. Parents are introduced to this form of giving early on, even before the child is born, but it’s true for all our relationships, with friends, spouses and G-d. If you follow that with devoting a portion of your efforts to others (Mincha offerings), followed by apologizing when we do something wrong (Chatat and Asham offerings), we’ll hopefully get to the point of thankfulness (Shlamim offering) and those around us for all that we have been blessed with.

Our Parsha, Tzav, informs us that the priests’ first task of the day was to remove the ashes from the offering sacrificed the previous day (Leviticus 6:3). Is there any significance to this being the priests’ first order of business with which to start the day?

Rabbi Avi Weiss explains that the priest begins the day by removing the ashes to illustrate the importance of his remaining involved with the mundane. Too often, those who rise to important positions separate themselves from the people and abandon the everyday menial tasks. By starting the day with ash-cleaning, the Torah insists it shouldn’t be this way.

A few years ago a couple appeared before Rabbi Gifter, asking him to rule on a family dispute. The husband, a member of Rabbi Gifter’s kollel (an all day Torah learning program) felt that, as one who studied Torah, it was beneath his dignity to take out the garbage. His wife felt otherwise. Rabbi Gifter concluded that while the husband should in fact help his wife he had no legal religious obligation to remove the trash. The next morning, before the early services, Rabbi Gifter knocked at the door of the young couple. Startled, the young man asked Rabbi Gifter in. No, responded Rabbi Gifter, I’ve not come to socialize but to take out your garbage. You may believe it’s beneath your dignity, but it’s not beneath mine. This message comes to us courtesy of the sacrificial ashes.

Parshat Tzav includes a Passuk (verse) scarcely commented on, describing how the Kohen (Priest) needs to remove the clothes he wore when he gathered the ashes of the Olah offering, put on “other clothing” (6:4) and remove the ashes. Why would a change of clothing be required for simply walking ashes?

Rashi explains that it’s not proper to mix a cup of wine for one’s superior in the same clothing in which one cooked a pot. Rav Moshe Feinstein points out how the Torah considers the rules of proper decency and etiquette so important that it included laws to that effect in the Torah. Being decent and acting properly isn’t just a good idea, it’s the (Jewish) law.

Our Parsha, Tzav, informs us that the priests’ first task of the day was to remove the ashes from the offering sacrificed the previous day (Leviticus 6:3). Is there any significance to this being the priests’ first order of business with which to start the day?

Rabbi Avi Weiss explains that the priest begins the day by removing the ashes to illustrate the importance of his remaining involved with the mundane. Too often, those who rise to important positions separate themselves from the people and abandon the everyday menial tasks. By starting the day with ash-cleaning, the Torah insists it shouldn’t be this way.

A few years ago a couple appeared before Rabbi Gifter, asking him to rule on a family dispute. The husband, a member of Rabbi Gifter’s kollel (an all day Torah learning program) felt that, as one who studied Torah, it was beneath his dignity to take out the garbage. His wife felt otherwise. Rabbi Gifter concluded that while the husband should in fact help his wife he had no legal religious obligation to remove the trash. The next morning, before the early services, Rabbi Gifter knocked at the door of the young couple. Startled, the young man asked Rabbi Gifter in. No, responded Rabbi Gifter, I’ve not come to socialize but to take out your garbage. You may believe it’s beneath your dignity, but it’s not beneath mine. This message comes to us courtesy of the sacrificial ashes.

Aliya Summary: Further anointing of Aharon, his sons, and their garments. Then Moshe told them to prepare part of the meat for eating with the accompanying cakes and wafers. That which was left over was to be burned. During the seven inaugural days, the kohanim were not to leave the Mishkan; they remained there as an honor-guard.

This time, when the Torah says that they did everything that G-d commanded, it is not just saying “great job” to the Kohanim for doing their jobs. Had they not done “all the things that G-d commanded via Moshe”, they would have been liable to the Death penalty from Heaven. These were serious, life-or-death responsibilities.

Aliya Summary: The second ram was then offered and several procedures, as specified in the Torah, followed. Moshe Rabeinu was an active participant in the 7-day inauguration period for the Mishkan. Thereafter, Aharon and his sons (and all kohanim) are the ones who perform the sacred service of the Mikdash.

Some commentators speculate that had Moshe accepted his first mission at the Bush without continually claiming his inabilities, he would have been the Kohen Gadol as well as Leader (Melech) of the People. Instead, Aharon was “given to him” then, to share the burdens of leadership. Moshe was acutely aware that he was to pass the baton to Aharon in this vital area of communal and spiritual function. It must have been difficult for Moshe to step back at this point.

Aliya Summary: A bull as a sin-offering is brought and Aharon and his sons “lean” on it. Leaning (smicha) is accompanied by confession (vidui) or words of praise to G-d, depending upon the sacrifice. The bull was slaughtered and part of its blood was put on the corners of the Altar and on its base. Parts of the bull were placed on the Altar; the remainder was burned outside the camp.

Leaning is a vital element of most personal korbanot. It facilitates a psychological identification with the animal and adds meaning to the act of sacrifice. If acts had to have meaning, certainly words (prayers) should have even more meaning/identification!