As we enter this special Shabbat—Shabbat HaGadol—we stand on the threshold of freedom. Soon we will retell the story of our deliverance, of lamb’s blood on doorposts and the midnight cry of Egypt. But before we arrive at the Seder table, we pause here, at the altar of reflection.

In Parashat Tzav, we find more of God’s detailed instructions concerning the sacrificial system. Each offering—the Olah (burnt offering), Mincha (grain), Asham (guilt), Chatat (sin), and Shlemim (peace)—was not just ritual; it was relationship. The Olah, consumed entirely by fire, symbolized total surrender to God. It was offered morning and evening, reminding the people of their constant need for atonement and nearness to Him.

But this week, it’s not just the external commands that draw our attention—it’s the heart behind them. The intricate rituals were meant to lead Israel to a deeper place of honesty and intimacy with God. They were never an end in themselves. As we study the offerings, the question that surfaces is not merely “what must I do?” but “why do I do it?”

That’s why this week’s message could be summed up in two words: soul searching.

We are invited—perhaps even compelled—to look beyond the outer practice and into the inner life. Have our spiritual disciplines become routine, even mechanical? Have we lost sight of the One to whom we offer our lives?

The Haftarah from Malachi cuts straight to the core. God speaks with piercing clarity:

“Return to Me, and I will return to you,” says the LORD of armies.
But you say, “How shall we return?”
Malachi 3:7

The answer comes in God’s own words—through accusations of injustice, of robbing God in tithes and offerings, of empty religiosity without reverence. He reminds His people that while they may perform the rituals, their hearts are far from Him. And then He speaks of judgment—a refining fire that will separate those who fear His name from those who merely pretend.

This is not a threat—it’s a wake-up call.

For behold, the day is coming, burning like a furnace... But for you who fear My name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings.
Malachi 4:1–2

The fire that judges is also the fire that heals. That’s the paradox of Shabbat HaGadol: it prepares us for the joy of deliverance by inviting us to be refined. Just as leaven is removed from our homes, sin must be cleansed from our hearts.

As we reflect on the sacrifices in Leviticus, we also remember their ultimate fulfillment in the Lamb of God. The blood on our doorposts was always pointing to a greater deliverance. But that initial act of faith—choosing to mark the door, to trust the command, to step out in obedience—is still required of us today.

And once we take that step, we continue on a path of daily sacrifice. Not with animals, but with our lives. As Paul wrote:

Present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God—this is your spiritual worship.
Romans 12:1

So let us prepare—not just our homes, but our hearts. Let us come before the fire of God, not with fear, but with readiness. The same fire that consumes the offering is the fire that purifies the soul.

This Shabbat HaGadol, may we echo the words of those in Malachi who feared the Lord and spoke to one another in truth:

And the LORD listened and heard them, and a book of remembrance was written before Him for those who fear the LORD and esteem His name.
Malachi 3:16

May our names be found in that book. Not because we brought perfect offerings, but because we brought honest hearts.

Shabbat Shalom and may you have a meaningful Passover,
Moran