Korban Todah: The Practice of Gratitude
by Rabbi Dr. Levi Alter
Each parsha in the Torah is named for one of the first words of the portion. Parshas Tzav begins, “HaShem spoke to Moses, saying: Tzav with Aaron and his children, communicating: This is the toras of the olah.” (An “olah” is one of the types of offerings available to us.)
What do the words tzav and toras mean? They are two of the most important words in Jewish tradition: mitzvah and Torah.
The word tzav (a verb, an action) and the word mitzvah (a noun, a practice available to us) share a root with the Aramaic word tzavsa (connection together). Each mitzvah is an opportunity to connect – with ourselves, our spirituality, and what we might call a “Higher Power” or by the Hebrew name that is so full of meaning we do not even pronounce it – simply HaShem (“the Name”). There are 613 ways we can connect.
The word toras (the possessive-connective form of the noun) and Torah both mean “teaching” or “meaning.” So the verse might be understood as: “Connect with Aaron and his children, communicating: This is the meaning of the olah.”
Language is powerful. Take the word “disability,” which literally means “not able.” When we rely on English translations instead of the original Hebrew, we lose depth and nuance. The word Torah is often mistranslated as “law,” mitzvah as “commandment,” and tzav as “command.” This shifts the tone from an invitation to a directive, losing the sense of partnership between Moses and Aaron. Many English translations are rooted in the Authorized (King James) Version, which was adapted from the Wycliffe Bible of 1382, based on the Latin Vulgate of 382, which itself was based on the Greek Septuagint—a Jewish translation into Greek that was later revised to align the Old Testament with the New Testament by the Greek Orthodox Church. None of these translations come directly from the Hebrew. The result is a loss of the original meaning and spirit of the text, just as the concept of disability is often misrepresented in language.
In Parshas Tzav, the Torah teaches about the korbanos, practices that bring us closer to HaShem. The root k-r-b means “close,” but it’s often mistranslated as “sacrifice,” which implies loss rather than connection. In reality, the korbanos were about drawing near to HaShem through sacred practices. Today, we fulfill this practice through prayer, a form of sacred expression and listening. The Talmud (Menachos) teaches that studying the laws of korbanos is equivalent to offering them.
There are different types of korbanos, including the shelamim (peace and wholeness offerings). The third aliyah of this parsha describes the korban todah, the thanksgiving offering. The word todah means gratitude. Leah named her son Yehudah (Judah) from the same root, and we are called Yehudim (Jews), a thankful people.
Why does gratitude matter?
A well-known study on gratitude, known as the Nun Study, illustrates its power. In 1930, a group of nuns in their twenties wrote brief autobiographies explaining why they had joined the convent. Researchers analyzed these writings for expressions of positive and negative emotion and tracked the nuns' health over the next 60 years. The results, published in 2001, showed that the nuns who expressed more gratitude and positive emotion were more likely to be alive and well into their eighties, by as much as seven years. This study sparked a new field of gratitude research.
Since then, we've learned that cultivating an “attitude of gratitude” strengthens physical health, immunity, and emotional resilience. Gratitude reduces toxic emotions, lessens depression, and improves relationships. It makes us more resilient in the face of exclusion, whether it's inaccessible synagogue spaces, the absence of large-print siddurim and Braille signs, the lack of ASL interpreters, or the feeling of being left out of communal decision-making. Gratitude helps us survive and thrive. And the more we celebrate the good, the more good we discover.
The todah was a voluntary offering. In his comment on Leviticus 22:29, Haamek Davar explains that it could be offered any day, every day, even. According to the Chidushei haRim (as cited in Etz Hayim), each day brings its own miracle, and the todah allows us to celebrate these daily miracles. The offering included an assortment of 40 cakes, loaves, and matzot. Some were given to the kohanim (priests) who assisted with the offering, but the rest were shared with guests, turning gratitude into communal celebration. Haamek Davar explains that this was intentional, the person offering the todah needed an audience to hear their story of gratitude. Gratitude multiplies when it is shared.
As a Jewish person who uses a wheelchair and oxygen, I find that belonging to the disabled Jewish community is a gift I am deeply grateful for. Together, we are redefining the meaning of “disability” from “not able” to recognizing the gifts we each bring to Jewish life and community.
The word “disabled” is not one we chose for ourselves. I also belong to another community that did not choose its name: the intersex community. We are often labeled as having “birth defects,” implying that being born different is somehow defective. I am not defective. Recently, some have tried to rename intersex conditions as “disorders of sexual development,” but I am not disordered. My body reflects the natural diversity of human biology. Being born intersex meant that I was a boy who had to wear a dress to school and later had to correct my birth certificate. The intersex community’s primary advocacy is for an end to non-consensual medical interventions on intersex infants and for adults to have access to affirming medical care and legal recognition.
The haftarah for Tzav is complex, just like the complexities of disability and intersex identity. In non-leap years, Tzav is read on the Shabbat before Pesach, with the haftarah for Shabbat Hagadol (Malachi 3:4–24). In leap years, it’s read before or after Purim, with haftarot from I Samuel, Ezekiel, or Jeremiah. The book of Ezekiel includes a vision of the divine Presence riding in what can be interpreted as a wheelchair—a reminder that even in my wheelchair, I am created in the divine image.
The haftarah from Malachi speaks of “the coming of the great and awesome day of the Lord,” heralding redemption. The Talmud teaches that in the time of redemption, all offerings will cease except for the thanksgiving offering. Gratitude will become our natural response to HaShem’s abundant kindness.
But we don’t have to wait for redemption to cultivate gratitude. The more we notice the blessings in our lives, the more we find. We can begin now, thanking HaShem in small steps and brief moments. Even in difficult times, like the current attacks on the ADA and the dismantling of DEI, we can find hidden wells of HaShem’s kindness and presence. The deepest gratitude often emerges in the hardest moments.
May we feel HaShem's embrace in every moment. May we find connection and gratitude like the korban todah, an offering that multiplies blessings when shared.
Rabbi Dr. Levi Alter is a disability inclusion advocate who uses a wheelchair and oxygen. His professional experiences include being on the clinical faculty of UCLA Medical Center, a university department chairman, corporate CEO, medical management consultant, bio-ethicist, non-profit executive director and a congregation spiritual leader. His activities advancing inclusion in religion, health care and other fields includes being a keynote speaker and organizer for major conferences and events, interviews on LOGO, MTV, MSNBC, Newsweek, BBC Radio and many other documentaries and media appearances. He has conducted workshops and seminars at corporations, educational institutions, medical centers, academic conferences, government agencies and non-profit organizations across the country as an internationally sought after expert on intersex issues and the fourth of five generations of intersex individuals in his family. He is the President of FTM International, spanning 62 countries and 39 years building FTM lives, families and communities and was honored with the Icon Award for lifetime service to the transgender community. His wife is deaf and they are blessed with thirteen children and many grandchildren.
