The fire on the Altar shall be kept burning on it, it shall not be extinguished … A permanent fire shall remain aflame on the Altar; it shall not be extinguished (Vayikra 6:5-6).
We learn here a positive commandment – that a fire needs to permanently burn on the Copper Altar in the Bais HaMikdash. We also learn a negative commandment here – that if the fire is extinguished the Kohanim have transgressed the negative prohibition of “it shall not be extinguished.” Indeed, the Rambam codifies the law this way – that one who extinguishes the fire is punished. It is such a severe transgression that even if only one coal is removed from the Altar and the fire is extinguished, the individual is punished.
It is significant to note that the Torah is usually succinct and does not elaborate when unnecessary. Our sages tell us (Chagigah 10a:5) that the laws of Shabbos, peace-offerings and misuse of sanctified property are “like mountains suspended by a hair,” i.e. there is little written about them in the Torah, and yet there are numerous details of their halachos.
Why is it so important, then, to have the fire burn constantly on the Altar that it requires two pesukim in the Torah?
HaGaon R’ Avigdor Nevensahl offers an interesting interpretation with a moral lesson. The Talmud (Yuma 21b) tells us that even though the fire on the Altar descended from Heaven, there was a special mitzvah for a human being to bring fire on the Altar as well, as it says (Vayikra 1:7), “The sons of Aharon HaKohen shall place fire on the Altar …” The Sefer HaChinuch adds that the reason for this is because Hashem performs many great miracles in a hidden way, meaning they appear to be a natural occurrence rather than supernatural. Thus, if the fire on the Altar would not be brought by human beings then the Heavenly fire would be revealed as a miracle.
There was only one instance where no fire was brought by man, and the entire Jewish nation witnessed the fire descending from Heaven and consuming the Korban Olah. That was on the eighth day of the Milu’im (the dedication of the Tabernacle) as it says (Vayikra 9:24), “A fire went forth from before Hashem and consumed the burnt-offering and the fats upon the Altar …”
Rav Nevensahl explains that witnessing open miracles upsets the balance of our free will. It is Hashem’s wish that miracles should be part of nature, i.e. something that the human eye cannot perceive. The Rambam notes that a person does not have a share in the Torah of Moshe Rabbeinu until he believes that everything in the world is a miracle, as there is no such thing as nature, in fact.
Secondly, miracles that are revealed are intended to inspire a person to change his life for the better. However, when a person becomes accustomed to miracles as such they no longer affect him. A miracle that happens often and becomes nature may cause him to err in his thinking and stray.
The Sefer HaChinuch explains the Splitting of the Red Sea in a similar vein. The pasuk (Shemos 14:21) states, “… Hashem moved the sea with a strong east wind all the night … and the water split.” The question is asked: Why was there a need for a strong east wind? This was in order to provide an excuse for those who refused to believe in Hashem. It left them with the free will to insist that the splitting of the sea was caused by the strong wind and not by Hashem.
The miracle of Purim likewise was an obscure miracle. Each of the events in its sequence seemed quite natural and reasonable. It was only when they were all taken together, and the sequence of events was more carefully analyzed that one could discern the omnipotent Hand of Hashem.
Miracles happen every day. Some blend into nature and some are very visible and distinct.
Four days after Simchas Torah, when the entire world was still shaken up in the aftermath of the events that had taken place in Eretz Yisrael, a Yid walked into a shul in Bayit Vegan, where Maariv would soon begin, and asked permission to say a few words.
“I have just come from Kibbutz Be’eiri,” he began in a trembling voice. “A couple of days before Rosh Hashana, someone offered me to put on tefillin. I don’t know why, but I agreed. I put on tefillin for the first time in my life, and I said the Shema Yisrael. Afterwards I took them off and forgot the whole episode.
“Hanochas tefillin, however, left some kind of impression and when Rosh Hashana arrived I told my family that I would like to observe Rosh Hashana. We had no idea how to observe Rosh Hashana, and ultimately I decided that I would not use the car or the telephone.
“When Yom Kippur came I told my children that I want to observe Yom Kippur too. All I knew was that you fast on Yom Kippur.
“When the sirens went off on Simchas Torah we were not especially alarmed as we are used to it in the yishuv. But then we heard the Arab voices shouting outside, the shootings, the explosions, we understood that this was different. We closed the door and immediately ran into our safe room.
“I never learned what emunah is, what it means to depend on the Ribbono Shel Olam in moments of despair. However, in these few seconds when we feared the end was near, I felt that only One can decide whether I remain among the living. There was only One to whom I could pray.
“But I don’t know how to pray; I don’t know how to say Tehillim. All I knew was how to say the Shema. The terrorists were shouting in my home, storming through the rooms, and I was shaking, but I kept repeating Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad. The words became my ray of hope.
“And a miracle happened that I cannot explain. Although the terrorists went into each room, vandalizing, destroying, breaking and burning everything, the door of our sealed room was never compromised. When it got quiet, we were still afraid to breathe. We could hear shouts and explosions outside of the house, and we continued to sit in the safe room with great fear till the following morning when the Israeli soldiers arrived.
“We could not believe the destruction and devastation that we saw around us, and the details of the victims and the hostages that had been taken. But Hashem had let us live.
“Since then I walk around with a kippah on my head and the Shema – the only pasuk that I know – on my lips. I keep repeating those six words that accompanied me through the worst hours of my life, the words that saved me.
“Now dear brethren, I only ask one thing of you: Please teach me how to pray.”
