Wearing and Honoring the Vestments

Tetzaveh

Ex. 27:20-30:10

Précis: The parasha continues the description of ritual items in the Tabernacle, including oil for the lamp, priestly clothing, the ephod, breastplate, robes, plate, and miter. Aaron and his sons, Nadab, Abihu, Eliezer and Ithamar are designated as Priests and are consecrated with sacrifices and ceremony. The parasha concludes with a description of the daily sacrifices and incense to be offered at the Tabernacle.

Ex. 28:2-5 “Next, you shall instruct everyone who has skill to make Aaron’s clothing for consecrating him to serve Me as a priest. These are the vestments they are to make: a breastplate, an ephod, a robe, a fringed tunic, a headpiece, and a sash...”

            In addition to being commanded to erect the Tabernacle and craft the implements, the talented artisans are assigned the task of creating clothing for the Priest. As the Sforno (medieval Italian commentator) noted, “Not only should they build the Tabernacle, provide oil for the Menorah, but they should also fashion the garments to be worn by Aaron.” There is something significant, he implies, in the fact that the sacred space of the Tabernacle requires sacred clothing for the High Priest. Both are to be contributed from and made by the People. As Rabbi Sarah Bassin has noted (Ten Minutes of Torah, 2/19/18) the symbolism is clear: we are investing our time, money and hope in the priests. Please don’t let us down.

            We are turning these human beings - the priests – into symbols. We are creating human icons. Rabbi Bassin asks the critical question: is it worth putting them on a pedestal and set ourselves up for disappointment?

            The people of Virginia and across America must be asking the same question, following the news of the allegations of improper activity by the top three leaders of the Commonwealth. With the priests in our parasha, it is not the clothing which must be holy. It is the priests themselves. If the difference between the clothing and the person wearing it becomes clear, the trappings of the vestments become hollow and meaningless. When we perceive our elected leaders as hollow, we can lose the ability to have hope in the future. And when we expect less of our leaders by rationalizing that their personal failures don’t interfere with their ability to govern, a real danger arises. When we expect less of our leaders, we expect less of ourselves. 

            Some have suggested that we have a “new normal” where personal misdeeds, foibles and attacks are acceptable as long as the leader (political, religious, or corporate) is simply doing a “good job” in his or her tasks. This idea is rejected by our parasha: if you want to “wear the vestments,” you need to honor them. Unless we hold all of our leaders to a high standard, we debase our society and ourselves.

A Place? Without a Place?

T’rumah

Exodus 25:1-27:19

Précis: As the Israelites continue their journey through the wilderness, God tells Moses to ask the people for gifts to build the Tabernacle. “T’rumah” (voluntary donations) of fine metals, yarns, skins, and woods are offered by the People. God gives Moses precise instructions as to the interior and exterior construction of the mishkan (tabernacle). Specific items include an altar for burnt offerings, a curtain (parochet) to separate the main room from an inner sanctum, elaborate candlesticks, incense burners, and other tools. There will be a special Ark to be placed in an area called the Holy of Holies to house the tablets of the Ten Commandments. Precise measures are given for all spaces as well as specific materials designated for the composition of the mishkan.

Ex. 25:1 – “Speak unto the children of Israel, that they bring Me an offering; of every man that giveth it willingly with his heart you shall take My offering.” 

            What is the Tabernacle, and why is it necessary to build one? These may be obvious questions, but they merit serious thought. As pointed out by Rabbi Moti Bar-Or (Myjewishlearning.com, 2/17/15), of all of the commands in the Bible, this one may be about the most “voluntary” of them all. Donations are not required, but donations should be made willingly. (Aside: think about this when you consider dues systems in our congregations).

            First, what is the Tabernacle? In short, it’s a portable, tent-like structure on the outside, and it seems to have been without a roof. On the inside of the goat-skin walls, we have a series of implements used in connection with ritual sacrifices. The Torah uses around 450 verses to describe the tent and its contents, a rather remarkable fact when one considers the Tabernacle was to be replaced by the Temple.

            Second, why build a Tabernacle? Bar-Or suggests that the Tabernacle should be compared with the Garden of Eden narrative. Both explain (in their own ways) the relationship between God and humanity. But while in the Eden story we have God’s divine act for humans, in the Tabernacle we have human “creativity” to make space for God amongst them (see Ex. 25:8).

            But this is, of course, diametrically opposed to the very concept of a universal God who is everywhere at all time. So why did God want to people to build it? The Sforno, a medieval Italian commentator, suggests the need for the Tabernacle was like an anchor to a concrete place, and perhaps was God’s recognition (after the incident of the Golden Calf) that some physical manifestation of His Presence was needed. Others suggest that God intended to allow Himself to be reduced, and to be able to “inhabit” this world, he needed a place (in Hebrew, “makom.” Indeed, one of the names of God today is “Makom.”

            So, we are left with two diverse ideas of God: one who is “ein-sof” (without a place) and one who is Makom – the place. In addition to the theological disparity, these contrary views carry with them serious political ones as well, not the least of which is the divergence of religious authority points of view in Israel and in the Diaspora.

            In the Jewish history class I teach, we recently discussed the Babylonian Exile, when the Psalmist wrote, “By the waters of Babylon, we sat and wept over thee, Jerusalem…How can we sings songs to the Lord while in a foreign land?” More than 2,500 years ago, the Jewish exiles could not conceive of a way to connect with God when not in Zion. They clearly conceived of God as “Makom.” Yet within a scant few decades, Jeremiah was teaching them to pray for the welfare of the city in which they dwelt (Jer. 29), and indicated that God could hear their prayers from anywhere: God was “ein-sof.”

            How we deal with the poles of opinion is theologically difficult. This parasha, with its emphasis on a Tabernacle suggests God must dwell among us. History teaches the opposite.