Tetsave: Secret of the Spice
Tetsave: Secret of the Spice

 (Notes by Chani Koplowitz. Sent by naaleh)

In the preceding parsha, Parshat Terumah, Hashem had instructed Bnei Yisroel in the construction of the Tabernacle and its vessels. Parshat Tetzaveh continues with instructions in fashioning the priestly vestments and then introduces some of the various animal offerings the priests will bring on the copper altar. After all this, Parshat Tetzaveh concludes with instructions for building the golden altar upon which Aharon will raise up the incense offering to Hashem.

Our Sages question this order. It would seem more logical, they posit, to include the instructions for building the incense altar and its use with the instructions for building the other vessels and implements of the Tabernacle. Why did Hashem choose to give these instructions separately, seemingly at the end of the blueprints? Further, that the incense altar faced the Ark in the Holy of Holies while the menorah and the show bread table were nearby on the sides adds to the puzzle. Why even call this incense burner an altar, a term usually reserved for sacrificing animals, rather than some form of incense pan?

As with so many aspects of the Torah, we can approach these questions from three relational perspectives: Between man and himself, between man and his fellow man, and between man and G-d.

The answers to these questions can best be approached by examining the essence and purpose of the ketoret, the incense offering itself. Rav Reiss in Meirosh Tzurim studies this issue at length. While he reminds us that the purpose of animal sacrifices is to bring us closer to Hashem (korban= korov=closeness), nothing is more beloved to Hakodosh Boruch Hu than the ketoret offering, for the root of ketoret in Aramaic is related to the Hebrew word for connected, being tied together (kotur=koshur). Being tied and connected to Hashem is stronger than approaching and coming close to Hashem.

Moshe understood the power of the ketoret, for he used it in two related situations. First, he used it to prove that Hashem Himself had chosen Aharon to be the priest rather than the rebellious Korach or his 250 followers. Then when Bnei Yisroel the next day complained that Moshe and Aharon had caused the death of all these people, Hashem sent the angel of death to destroy Bnei Yisroel. But Moshe knew the secret of the ketoret, and was able to arrest Death’s advance by burning the incense between the living and those already dead. The power of the ketoret was stronger than the powers of the Angel of Death! 

Rav Reiss continues his analysis. Like the tomid sacrifice, the incense was also offered twice daily, an exhibition of consistency in our relationship to Hashem, and, like the tomid, the incense offering was exclusively congregational; an individual could not offer it. The outer altar for animal sacrifices represented offering one’s body to Hashem, or to atone for sins committed by the body. Just as an animal’s body is self contained and individual, so too is the human body, so an individual can bring an animal sacrifice.

The incense offering breathed in through the sense of smell as Hashem breathed the soul of life into Adam, on the other hand, represents the inner spirit, the soul, and on a deep level, each soul of Bnei Yisroel is a reflection of our collective soul. Since the ketoret represents our collective soul, our unity, its offering, according to Gemarrah Yoma, is expiation for the sin of loshon horah, a primary source of divisiveness.

Perhaps the best evidence in support for the collective nature of the ketoret lies in its ingredients, continues Rav Reiss. Ten of the eleven spices are sweet smelling, but one, the chelbonah, is quite foul smelling alone. Yet when burned together with the other ten spices, it enhances their scent. In a similar way, we are not a complete people if we expel from our midst the sinners among us. Rather we must include them so that our “scent” will rub off on them. By becoming and remaining part of the whole, both they and we are elevated.

Rav Pincus approaches the importance of the ketoret from a different perspective. He explains how each category in creation elicits a different reaction, especially when received as a gift. An inanimate object such as gold jewelry may have great monetary value, but is cold and speaks nothing intrinsically of connection. Plants, a dozen roses for example, may have less monetary value, but invokes the idea that the relationship will grow and blossom like the roses themselves, and a gift of roses is therefore greatly appreciated.

The next category, the animal kingdom, is a gift that represents dedicating one’s body to another. The final highest level of creation is man himself, the one with the power of speech and discernment. Each member of this category, each human being, is highly individualized. Each has his own personality, his own dreams and aspirations, his own talents, his own understanding of the world, his own “soul”.

Only once did Hashem ask for this sacrifice; he asked Avraham to bind Yitzchak and raise him as an offering. Both Avraham and Yitzchak subdued their personal essence and will for physical life to do the will of Hakodosh Boruch Hu. This submission of one’s inner self, says Rav Pincus, is what the ketoret offering represents. It is easier to sacrifice one’s body for a cause, to die al kiddush Hashem, than to dedicate one’s life and spirit to live al kiddush Hashem.

How does one live al kiddush Hashem? The Netivot Shalom offers a method. To live in holiness is to understand that while Hashem permits us to enjoy the world and to acquire possessions, we are not to take that license and abuse it. We are rather to practice restraint, to sacrifice some of our physical pleasure for the greater spiritual joy found in living a life dedicated to commitment to Hashem. We are human, and physical pleasures are permitted. But we are also human in that we need not become slaves to our physical aspect, for we have the ability to practice self control. This is the most difficult level to achieve, and so the instructions for the ketoret altar are given after the instructions for the other vessels whose service reflect the outer, physical layers of our humanity.

Our sacrifices are meant to bring G-d’s Presence down to earth. We offer the ketoret when He has already arrived, as a welcome greeting, notes the Seforno.

The timing of the reading of Parshat Tetzaveh as the weekly portion is also relevant to our discussion. Parshat Tetzaveh is always read in the month of Adar, either near Purim or near Purim katan, the “small” Purim of the leap year with two Adar months. In fact the names associated with the Purim story allude to the ingredients of the ketoret: Mordechai – myrrh was among the spices in the ketoret,  and         Hadassah - myrtle (Esther’s other name) also reflects the nature of smell.

But the connection goes much further. Nissan, as the first month of the year, is closest to the light of the Divine Presence. Rav Wolfson explains in Emunat Itecha that as the year progresses, we move further away from the Divine light. The year seems darkest as Adar approaches and we may feel ourselves unable to celebrate Purim appropriately. While we are given another month in the leap year to get us more in sync with the light, Hashem Himself celebrates Purim for us, the book of records is read of its own before the King. He celebrates for us until the second letter arrives in the second Adar month and we fulfill all the mitzvoth associated with Purim.

In this context, explains Rav Wolfson, the first Adar in a leap year represents an altar without the offering upon it. We yearn for the closeness, but we cannot feel it. Yet within this darkness is exactly where Hashem can be found leading our celebration, for the year is not linear. The year is circular, and as it comes to an end we come ever closer again to the new light, to the time that the Jews will have light and joy. The ketoret altar is right there, facing the holy ark of the Divine Presence. We may experience darkness, but the light of Hashem is always with us. Mordechai and Hadassah/Esther have taught us that truth.

And Aharon in his vestments, performing the service teaches us the love and unity that the ketoret symbolizes. Aharon lights the menorah at night to bring the light of Torah to our people. Not just to those already enlightened, but also to those in the dark, who appear to be creatures, barely human in their behavior. These who don’t seem to belong, like the putrid chelbonah, with his love and pursuit of peace Aharon brings back to the Torah.

And so, the Nefesh Shimshon points out, the entire Tabernacle and the service therein is to reach its culmination in the ketoret offering of the pure inner soul of the Jew within the entire Jewish nation.