By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D.
SAN DIEGO — It’s been 60 years since I hearkened to the glorious words, “Yaamod Ha’Bachor ha’Bar Mitzvah Moshe Rafoyel ben Betzalel Shlishi,” and chanted this parasha, Tetzaveh, at Temple B’nai Abraham in Newark, N.J., under the watchful eye and full heart of Rabbi Joachim Prinz, zt”l. I recall our rabbi sharing how relevant he thought the parasha was specifically to me on my Bar Mitzvah, since he — and everyone who knew me — knew that I enjoyed dressing as well as my family could afford to let me dress. I did the best that I could.
He pointed out elaborate details of the sacral vestments, the ornate priestly garments that Aaron and his sons wore for “the splendor and glory,” that included, “the robe of the ephod completely of blue wool, its opening at the top shall be turned inward; it shall have a border around it, the work of a weaver…” And further, “On its bottom hem you shall make pomegranates of blue, purple, and crimson wool, on its bottom hem all around, and golden bells in their midst all around.” Breastplates, ephod, robes, fringed tunics, headdresses, sashes, not quite the rich Lululemon sartorial details we observe today. We know that the words of our mouth and the meditations of our heart ultimately matter more than the clothing we wear. Well, hopefully. Our spirituality is not found outside of ourselves, but rather it is deep within us.
There is one garment, however, that does seemingly change the way we pray, one I was first given on that day in February 1962, my tallit. These many decades later, when I wrap myself in a tallit preparing to pray, it is a mindful, focusing experience. No, of course it does not assure unspoiled kavvanah (focus and concentration), but it’s a wonderful cue to concentrate on what matters, and how I change myself. Wearing this garment, and those described in this week’s Torah reading, are signs of service, of dedication to serving Hashem. While we no longer have priests or a Holy Temple in which we serve, nevertheless, we serve Hashem within our hearts. This means, as the Chernobyler Rebbe explained, our bodies, the kavod (honor) and the tiferet (beauty) within us, are flickers of Hashem’s Holiness. What is our soul, that rouses our body? It is comprised of our wisdom, understanding, knowledge, kindness, severity, compassion, triumph, humility, connection and royalty…just what the world was created with as well.
Moshe was commanded to create these holy garments for his brother, Aaron. Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev interprets the Torah passage describing this as insuring Moshe would be careful to garb Aaron in a meaningful way, consistent with the belief that Aaron’s righteous soul would be his garment. This interpretation comes from insight into an inconsistency in phrasing we see inside the parasha. The text says says לאהרן (“for” or “to” Aaron) and then it says אהרן (“Aaron” without “for” or “to” in front.) Those who are wise of heart, says Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, fashioned garments for Aaron out of who he most quintessentially was in the world. Ordinary thinkers see this simply as a tailoring job. Deeper thinkers see this as something more far reaching, that the clothing was crafted from Aaron himself, from his soul. Everything originates from, and is an expression of, Hashem within us. We are continually in His presence, and He is continually within us. Do we see this? We can be clothed in simple clothing, or we can be clothed in the purity of our souls.
This week’s parasha opens with a clear command to create and maintain the ner tamid, a light much like the chanukiyah, not to be used for any practical purpose but rather to amplify our connection to Hashem. Indeed, the Talmud Bavli in Masechet Shabbat (22b), tells us the ner amid is a symbol of Hashem’s presence and that the flame of Torah, our deepest values, are similarly eternal. “And you shall command the children of Israel, and they shall take to you, pure olive oil, crushed for lighting, to kindle the lamps continually. In the Tent of Meeting, outside the dividing curtain that is in front of the testimony, Aaron and his sons shall set it up before the Lord…” (Exodus 27:20-21).
This is a reminder that each of us is commanded to create and use the ner tamid to help us better see Hashem’s constant presence in our own lives and in the world around us. Where do we learn this from? The parasha begins with “atah Tetzaveh,” the singular form of the second person pronoun, “you,” which Sforno teaches means that each of us is personally obligated to build this light just as Moshe was commanded to do this mitzvah without delegating it. The ner tamid, the Itturei Torah also tells us, is a personal light, one that we each must continuously light within our own heart, to constantly use to bring light to the world. The midrash in Sh’mot Rabbah, assures us that just as one flame does not die when it lights another, so too the ner tamid within us will never burn out. Our job is to keep this candle lit brightly, all the time. Sh’mot Rabbah 36:3 tells us that “The commandment is a lamp, and the teaching a light.” It teaches us that “those who study Torah give forth light wherever they are. It is like one standing in the dark with a lamp in his hand; when he sees a stone he does not stumble, neither does he fall over a gutter because he has a lamp in his hand,” as it says in Psalms 119:105, “Your words are a lamp to my feet, a light for my path.”
On this, the Sfat Emes shares his understanding from the verse in Proverbs, “The candle of Hashem is the soul of a human being.” Just as the ner tamid in every synagogue provides far more than simply light and serves as a reminder that we, our souls, are the source of light in darkness, so too our clothing expresses a similar message. And Reb Levi Yitchak of Berditchev, again, tells us that the souls of the righteous are containers for divine middot. Aaron’s holy garments were expressions of his holy soul. It may be said he wore his soul, not his garments.
Further, the title of this parasha, Tetzaveh, means “you shall command.” From the Sfat Emet, we learn this may mean “you shall bring mitzvot into the souls of the children of Israel, so that they themselves become mitzvot.” Think about that. Our clothing, our lighting, our mitzvot – they are meant for us to become connections with Hashem. We even say this when we say, “asher kidishanu b’mitzvotav,” “who makes us holy in connecting-commanding.” When we bring mitzvot into our hearts, according to the Sfat Emet, we become connections with Hashem. It is a link for us from the Tabernacle to our own ever-present flame in our current internal world.
Every generation faces darkness. We often ask at times of distress, “God, where are You?” Perhaps it’s the other way around. Hashem is asking us, “Where are you?” Yes, Hashem gives us the gift of life. What we do with the life He gives us, is in turn, the gift we return to Him. The ner tamid, our personal light, can help us find continued emunah and bitachon, faith and trust, in Hashem, to continue kindling His light, even in the darkest, most sinister of times that many feel we are in now with COVID. We are all reaching out for divine vision to help us through this time. Rather than solely reaching out, perhaps we’d be wise to reach within for redemption, to our own ner tamid. For just as we create our own emotions through our own thoughts, our ner tamid is ours to light.
Rabbi Berel Wein tells us, “The Torah emphatically warns us lo tichbeh — do not allow that fire to be extinguished. Study, Torah education, observance, moral behavior, and an optimistic view are key means to preserve this fire and not allow it to be extinguished. In a world that contains vast patches of darkness and despair, what the Midrash describes as the “crouching lion flame of Jewish tradition,” lights our way towards a better future and a more meaningful present.”
Does the clothing we wear today serve to bring His glory with all the grandeur and majesty described in Tetzaveh, into our daily lives, to make us into mitzvot? Do the clothes we wear turn on a light inside of us, affecting us internally on a level we may not readily see? Perhaps clothes do “make the person.” If so, what feeling do the clothes you wear to shul, or anywhere, create within you.
No, we no longer outwardly dress in the finery described in this week’s parasha, but perhaps we can continue to dress ourselves internally with the finery, the beauty, the regal dress, stirred and awakened by the brightness of our own ner tamid.
As songwriter Peter Yarrow wrote in 1986:
“Don’t let the light go out!
It’s lasted for so many years!
Don’t let the light go out!
Let it shine through our hope and our tears.”
Shabbat Shalom
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Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D., prepares a weekly D’var Torah for Young Israel of San Diego, where he and his family are members. They are also active members of Congregation Adat Yeshurun. He may be contacted via michael.mantell@sdjewishworld.com