By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D.
SAN DIEGO — Sixty-one years ago, when I became a bar mitzvah, I read this parasha, Tetzaveh, at Temple B’nai Abraham in Newark, N.J., under the watchful eye and heart of Rabbi Joachim Prinz. I recall the rabbi telling me how relevant the parasha was to me, since I enjoyed dressing as well as my family could afford to let me dress. LOL, I did the best that I could. He pointed to elaborate details of the intricate and 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, the 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.”
Wow! Can you imagine anyone dressing with such finery today? And 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, anywhere really, create within you?
The garments worn by the priests were designed to be worn every day, and the rituals and sacrifices performed in the Mishkan were done with precision and attention to detail. What can we learn from this? We see that growth and improvement require consistent effort and dedication over time.
We also see that while the garments were designed to be ornate and impressive, they also included elements of humility such as the simple tunic worn under the more elaborate outer garments. We can learn from this that as we strive for excellence and achievement, it is important to maintain a sense of humility and remember that we are all ultimately serving a greater purpose.
The priesthood was not an individual service but reflected a communal responsibility, one we would wisely learn from today by recognizing that we grow and develop not in isolation, but with those around us, our community. The process of purification that the priests were required to undergo reflects for us that our own growth and development also require an inner purity, free of inner obstacles that prevent us from reaching our goals.
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).
Abarbanel (1437-1508) wondered about so much attention given to the Tabernacle’s lamps before the Tabernacle was even built. Abarbanel notes that the ner tamid must indeed be something special if it is described with such reverence, an essential component for a Tabernacle yet to exist.
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.’” The ner tamid is a metaphor for the light within us all, one we would wisely share with others to light up our otherwise dark world. The Itturei Torah teaches that “Every Jew must light the ner tamid in his/her own heart.”2 The ner tamid can thus be a link for us — from the biblical Tabernacle to the modern-day synagogue to our own internal worlds. It reminds us that each of us has our own ner tamid, an ever-present flame for us to access when we need it most, waiting for us to bring mitzvot into the world, limitless in its capacity for kindling and sharing.
Every generation faces darkness. We often ask at times of distress, “Hashem, 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 rising anti-semitism. 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 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, even in the face of the modern day Amalek that surround us.
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.”
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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
Beautiful D’var Torah! Yesher Koah!
Thank you for sharing this Parashat Tetzaveh. I was in a doctor’s office when another patient I didn’t know started talking to me because she said that I was glowing. We are still friends and it has been many years now. Having survived cancer I have often wondered what God wanted me to do. Now I know…to be a light to everyone I meet whether they are able to receive it at that moment or not. It gives me joy to give a smile to others that I pass throughout my day…it costs nothing and I get back so much in returm.