It Is Our Mitzvah

It Is Our Mitzvah
D’var Torah for Parashat Tetzaveh
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

In this week’s Torah portion, Tetzaveh (“You shall command,” Exodus 27:20—30:10), Moses receives instructions regarding the clothing of the priests. The design and materials match in intricacy and detail those of the Tabernacle. In a sense, the vestments of the High Priest and his assistants thus become an extension of the Tent of Meeting.

Following the description of the sacred vestments, Moses receives the next set of instructions, this time relating to the ceremony of the priests’ installation. In this ritual, they are to be washed in water, dressed in the sacred vestments and anointed with sacred oil. Specific sacrifices are to be offered. These are not the ordinary, everyday sacrifices, but rather the Offerings of Ordination, sacrifices made only once in the lifetime of each priest and high priest—at the time of his ordination and investiture.

Interestingly, Tetzaveh is the only Torah portion in which Moses’s name never appears. Everywhere else we read, over and over again: “God spoke to Moses;” or, “Moses said to the people.” Not here. The portion opens with, V’atah tetzaveh: “You shall command.” Later sections begin with, “You shall bring near;” “You shall speak;” “You shall make.” You, not Moses. This is particularly ironic when we stop to consider that the Hebrew title of this book is Shemot, “names.” Yet in this one portion, the name of the book’s foremost protagonist is prominently left out.

Similarly, even though Aaron and his four sons, the original priests, are mentioned by name, it isn’t their names that are centrally featured in this portion. The minute specifics of their vestments and the detailed description of the sacrifices they must offer push the names to a vague and hazy background.

The key to understanding this puzzle is in the clothing of the High Priest.

Over linen breeches and a belt, over a cotton tunic and an ornate robe, the High Priest wears an ephod, a two-piece linen vest whose front and back panels are connected by two shoulder straps. Sewn onto the straps are two large cut gems, one per shoulder. Set in gold, these stones have the names and seals of the tribes of Israel carved into them, six on each stone. (Must have been pretty large stones!) Suspended over the ephod or vest, and attached to it by a blue thread, is the Urim and Thummim, a divination plate whose purpose is not unlike that of a Ouija board. Set into this plate are twelve gemstones, each different, each set in gold. Like the stones on the ephod shoulder straps, these gems also have the names of the tribes of Israel carved on them, one tribe on each stone.

It must have looked stunning, this armor made of expensive linen, rare dyes and priceless gems. One cannot even begin to estimate its value. Yet its real value wasn’t in the material of which it was made. It was in the names it held.

Before the High Priest began his work, before he went into the Holy of Holies, before he could offer even one sacrifice, he would put on these items of clothing. It wasn’t only for show. The real purpose is explained in Chapter 28 verse 12: “And Aaron shall carry their names before Adonai upon his two shoulders as a remembrance;” and then again in 28:30: “And Aaron shall carry the judgment of the children of Israel over his heart before Adonai at all times.”

It is so easy for a person in power to lose sight of the true purpose of his role—to guide, lead and judge. Surrounded by the trappings of power, all too often the powerful are blinded by the riches and almost infinite opportunities. The heavy rocks on the High Priest’s shoulders were to remind him, to awaken him from any illusions of grandeur. The gold and gems he wore were not for his benefit. They were to serve as a reminder, both for himself and for God. At no point during the service was the High Priest to lose sight of his role and function. It was never to be about himself. He was only the go-between, serving to bring the people’s offerings to God and in return to reveal God’s judgment to them.

These, then, are the names that really matter. It’s the people, not Aaron, that factor in this equation. Even Moses’s name disappears, as a direct line of relationship between Israel and God appears.

What stands out ultimately in parashat Tetzaveh is not any particular individual. Outlasting Moses and Aaron, the Tent of Meeting and the priests’ clothing remain as symbols of an eternal God—but also of the eternal nature of the service of this God. It is the ritual that becomes important: the preparation of the clothing, the investment of the priests, the offering of sacrifice. These are eternal, even if the individuals who practice it at any particular time are not.

In our own day, with the Temple gone, with the priests no longer functioning as intermediaries between God and us, we are still left with the ritual. We no longer offer sacrifice: we offer prayer and acts of kindness. We no longer dress the High Priest with elaborate vestments: We dress the Torah and study its eternal words instead.

And that’s why the name of Moses is never mentioned in this portion. It really isn’t about him. It’s about us.

We have become the priests, a holy nation, in fulfillment of our Covenant with God. Faithfully we carry on our mission; our purpose is engraved for all eternity upon our heart and mind. It may feel heavy at times, but its value is greater than all the gold and gems that sometimes may distract us.

It is our mitzvah.

©2011 by Boaz D. Heilman