By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D.
SAN DIEGO — In 1962, I embarked on one of life’s most meaningful journeys – my bar mitzvah. Hearing “Yaamod Ha’Bachor ha’Bar Mitzvah Moshe Rafoyel ben Betzalel Shlishi,” I chanted this week’s parasha, Tetzaveh, As I read parasha Tetzaveh at the vibrant Temple B’nai Abraham in Newark, NJ, I felt Rabbi Joachim Prinz’s caring guidance and wisdom. With a twinkle in his eye, he told me how fitting this parasha was for me, given my “passion for fashion and flair!”
I fondly remember putting together my best ensemble for the big day with my family’s loving support. Although times were simple, I dressed with joy and dignity to mark this major milestone. At just 13 years old, I gained a deeper appreciation for my community and discovered a sense of purpose that guides me to this day. When I reflect on my bar mitzvah 62 years ago, I’m filled with gratitude to have learned precious lessons about responsibility, growth, hope, optimism and embracing my identity as a Jew with confidence and compassion.
Rabbi Prinz pointed out that the priestly garments woven for Aaron and his sons glimmered with Divine light, worn for “the splendor and glory,” to honor Hashem. These included azure threads of wisdom, regal purple hues of transformation, crimson frequencies of lifeforce – all interwoven by the Master Weaver’s hand. Golden bells aligned upon the hem chanted holy hymns with each step, awakening the soul to heaven’s harmonies. Every jewel-bright pomegranate adorning the border whispered a secret, each tiny seed a prayer to feed the hunger of this world. In endless flow, these garments of glory poured forth their streams of blessing.
Wow! Can you imagine anyone dressing with such finery today? And do the clothes we wear turn a light on inside of us, affecting us internally on a level we may not readily see? Perhaps clothes do “make the man.” If so, what feeling do the clothes you wear to shul, anywhere really, create within you?
There is one garment, 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.
Interestingly given my name, this parasha does not include Moshe’s name. But it’s not that Moses is missing in the Torah portion. In fact, all the verses in Parshat Tetzaveh that say “you”are referring to Moses as Hashem speaks to him – it’s just that his name is not mentioned. The Baal HaTurim, a prominent medieval Torah commentator, made a notable observation about this week’s Torah portion. He pointed out that this is the only portion after the birth of Moses that does not mention his name. The Baal HaTurim attributed this to Moses’ plea on behalf of the Jewish people after the sin of the Golden Calf, when he said, “Erase me from your book that you have written.” This statement is well known in the context of the Torah portion for this week. Even without direct mention of Moshe, his presence permeates this week’s Torah portion. Hashem works behind the scenes, His influence shapes events which we see when we observe closely. And while Moshe’s name goes unsaid, his teachings live on through continued Torah study.
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 tamid 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…”
The Hasidic master called the Sfat Emet offers an inspiring interpretation of this verse. He begins by referencing the verse from Proverbs stating, “The candle of Hashem is the human soul.” When surrounded by darkness, we light a candle to illuminate our surroundings. Similarly, Hashem’s response to darkness is to light the candles of human souls to spread light. According to the Sfat Emet, we human beings have the sacred duty of being the candles Hashem uses to brighten a dark world. Our responsibility is to radiate Divine light. We are His candle.
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.’”
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 all the means to preserve this fire and not allow it to be extinguished. In a world that contains vast patches of darkness and despair, the crouching lion flame of Jewish tradition lights our way towards a better future and a more meaningful present.”
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. Regarding the finery described in the parasha, I’m struck by the breastplate worn by the High Priest. This is designed to symbolically represent the life of the people. The chosen ha’mishpat is seen as a “breastplate of decision,” and later as an “instrument of decision” worn over the heart. From a psychological perspective, it seems to suggest that decisions are best heart-based, not simply mind based.
We human beings, the Torah, and Hashem share an intrinsic oneness according to the Zohar. Our innermost self is unified with the Torah, unified with the Divine, and unified with the ultimate source of light. As Shabbat arrives, we can feel immersed in this illuminating unity.
The Hebrew word “tetzaveh” typically means “you shall command,” derived from the root letters tzadi-vav-hei as in the word “mitzvah” (commandment). However, the root of “tetzaveh” can also carry the meaning “to connect,” related to the word “tsavta” meaning “togetherness.” With this alternate interpretation, the opening verse could be rendered: “And you shall connect the children of Israel…” Are we being asked to connect to ourselves, to each other and to Hashem? Yes!
When a new week dawns, we can aspire to embody the Torah and its commandments, becoming living expressions of G-dly light. If we exemplify the compassion and wisdom of Torah, we transform into torchbearers spreading spiritual radiance and light throughout the world. By bonding our actions to our sacred texts, we reach our potential as emanators of divine brightness in all places. Our rabbis and teachers carry an obligation to help keep our inner fire alive and burning brightly, just as the priests tended to the ner tamid (eternal light). There is much that can be done in contemporary Jewish life to ensure our light shines with enthusiasm and vibrancy, outside of school and synagogue walls. Let us not allow Jewish living to become unexciting, banal, tedious, or monotonous. We deserve to dwell in sacred connection with ourselves, each other, and Hashem in every moment. Our leaders would wisely fan the flames within us, sparking illumination that permeates every corner of our days. If we nurture our spiritual hearth, we can build bonds of understanding across all barriers – discovering the divinity within every human life, created b’tzelem Elohim (in the image of Hashem). Our lights can pool together to form a great menorah, driving back any darkness through the radiance of community.
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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