The Hidden Fire: Seeing the Miraculous in the Mundane
In Parshat Tzav, we encounter a striking commandment:
“A continual fire shall burn upon the altar; it shall not go out.” (Vayikra 6:6)
Day and night, year after year, the fire on the mizbeiach never went out. But there’s something even more fascinating beneath the surface. The mizbeiach was made of wood, covered by a thin layer of copper. By the laws of nature, that structure should have crumbled within days—maybe weeks—from constant exposure to flame.
Yet it didn’t. Not during the time of the Mishkan in the desert, not during the years in Shiloh. Moshe’s mizbeiach endured for over a hundred years—untouched by fire, unscarred by time.
It’s easy to overlook that as a miracle. Fire not burning wood? That’s not as dramatic as the splitting of the sea or water turning to blood. But perhaps that’s the point.
Some of the greatest miracles in life aren’t the loud, flashy ones. They’re the ones hiding in plain sight.
The Greatest Miracle: Jewish Survival
If you want to see a real miracle, look in the mirror.
The fact that the Jewish people are still here—still learning Torah, still lighting Shabbat candles, still telling our story—is nothing short of supernatural. Every generation had its Pharaohs and Hamans, its exiles and inquisitions. And yet, Am Yisrael Chai.
It would be one thing if we just survived physically. But we’ve held onto our soul. We’ve kept our identity, our values, our Torah. That’s not a coincidence. That’s a miracle that doesn’t look like a miracle—until you zoom out.
The World Is On Fire—and Still Whole
It’s the same with the world around us. We get so used to the rhythm of daily life that we forget how miraculous it all is. The rising sun. A healthy breath. A child’s laugh. Even the struggles—the heartbreaks, the setbacks, the confusion—are part of a bigger picture that’s full of Divine meaning.
We live in a world that seems to run on autopilot. But when Mashiach comes, we’ll suddenly see it differently. The veil will lift. What looked like coincidence will shine with purpose. What felt like silence will resound with music. What seemed natural will be revealed as nothing less than supernatural.
“Then our mouths will be filled with laughter and our tongues with joy…” (Tehillim 126:2)
Why laughter? Because we’ll finally see how everything—everything—was part of the plan. Even the things we never understood. Especially those.
Keep the Fire Burning
Like the mizbeiach, our job is to keep placing wood on the fire—daily effort, prayer, kindness, learning—trusting that something Divine is keeping the fire alive. Even when we don’t see it. Even when it doesn’t feel like a miracle.
Because one day, we’ll step back and realize: it always was.
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