Tetzaveh 5783 

Ex. 27:20 – 30:10 

Rabbi Baht Weiss 

In Parshat T’tzvaeh the Torah describes in painstaking detail how the Mishkan (the portable sanctuary)  and all its ritual items are to be constructed.  Among those ritual items was the breastplate, worn by the High Priest, while serving the Mishkan.  The breastplate, with its four rows of three precious gems each, was designed to represent the twelve tribes of Israel.  Every stone had its place. Only when every stone was in its place, would the priest be able to fulfill his service to God.  Rabbi Leah Lewis points out, “The instruction for the chosen (breastplate) ensured that there was a place for every tribe and that no one’s space dominated the other.  By divine design, all of Israel was given their rightful space.” 

According to the Jewish Ethic practice of Mussar, from this parsha, we learn the middah, the Jewish value of anavah ענוה humility.  Each of the tribes were given their own separate space to prevent any one tribe to dominate the space of the other.  Rabbi Lewis points out that those instructions served as a reminder for the High Priests to occupy his rightful space only and to remain mindful of his role. 

The Torah recognized early on the importance in balances of power.  I am concerned that the Modern State of Israel is having trouble remembering that important lesson.  Currently, the Israeli government under Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is planning to overhaul the judiciary.  The plans, which would give Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu greater control of appointments to the bench and weaken the Supreme Court’s ability to strike down legislation or rule against the executive, have triggered angry protests across Israel for weeks. 

Netanyahu, currently on trial on corruption charges which he denies, says the changes are needed to restore balance in the system and curb activist judges who have overreached their powers to interfere in the political sphere. Netanyahu currently leads the most right-wing government coalition that Israel has ever had.  

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks points out how the division of religious leadership is dramatized in Parshat Tetzaveh, focusing on the role of the priest to the exclusion of the prophet.  He points out that it is the first parsha since the beginning of Exodus in which Moses’ name is not mentioned.  Rabbi Sacks writes, “Priests and prophets were very different in their roles..the task of the priest was “boundary maintenance.  The key priestly verbs were lehavdil and lehorot, to distinguish one from the other and apply the appropriate rules.  Priests gave rulings, prophets gave warnings. 

Returning to the breastplate, Rabbi Lewis points out, “Leading the ritual life of the people, the High Priest could easily have developed an inflated sense of self.  Yet the mere structure of the breastplate made it impossible for hubris to take over. After all, only when he was wearing the jewel-studded piece representing the entire people—its weight literally and figuratively pressing on his shoulders—was he able to fulfill his sacred duty.” 

If only we too could wear a physical reminder like the breastplate to remind us not to overshadow others and take up too much space.  If only we could learn to listen and hear as much as we speak and share.  Perhaps we could learn something from the humility of these High Priests, who learned to make space for others in their community.

Terumah 5783
Ex. 25:1 – 27:19 

Rabbi Gary Pokras 

My father is a retired architect, and he used to keep an extra drafting table in our basement. As a child, I loved to play at designing grand structures and would use his drafting table to create many “masterpieces.” What I did not enjoy was figuring out all the specs – nor did I even try. For each building my father designed, there would be an accompanying set of several, exceptionally long and dense books containing the specifications necessary for construction, like how many and exactly what size screws or nails were required to safely secure each joint (which changed depending on the kind of joint being described) or the specific cement mixtures and amounts to be used for various sections of the building, or the type and length of wiring for each room. Every tiny little detail had to be laid out to build a structure to last, and to be safe. This is a smart way to build, people have used this approach for millennia. The Torah itself has three full Torah portions to detail the specs for the construction of the mishkan, the special tent which would serve as the place reserved for God at the center of the Israelite tent. This week’s portion, Terumah, is the first of the three. 

As you might imagine, I used to skim through these portions, so that I could quickly get back to what I considered to be the more interesting narratives that follow. Now I know better. 

It probably is no surprise that the specs for the mishkan include a copious amount of gold. Rabbi Amy Scheinerman asks us to consider the construction of the ark itself: “Over [the Ark] with pure gold – overlay it inside and out – make upon it a gold molding round about.” [Ex. 25:11] She wonders why we need to cover the inside of the ark with gold, after all, it will be sealed and then never opened. She finds the answer in the Babylonian Talmud, which comments on the commandment with the following teaching: “Any Torah scholar whose interior is not like his exterior is no Torah scholar.” [Talmud Bavli, Yoma, 72b]  

We have all seen leaders who lead with cynicism, who present a façade that does not reflect the reality of their purpose or intent. If we are serious about following let alone teaching Torah, then we must also be serious about our integrity. A life lived with integrity is a life well-lived, in every detail. 

Mishpatim (Shabbat Shekalim) 5783
Ex. 21:1 – 24:18 

Rabbi Gary Pokras 

“You shall neither deceive a stranger nor oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” [Ex. 22:20] 

Among the most prevalent recurring themes in the Torah is the missive to care for the vulnerable in our midst, and to do so from a place of empathy. We are commanded no fewer than 36 times in the Torah alone to look after the needs of the poor, the orphan, the widow, and stranger (in some combination or individually) because we know what it is like to be vulnerable. Many rabbis and commentators turn to these verses as proof of the universal social justice at the core of Judaism and Jewish values. 

They are right! Many Jews turn to this and similar verses as we wrestle with political issues of the day such as immigration, unemployment, or welfare support. 

However, Rabbi Joshua Minkin wonders if we should also consider a remez – something hidden below the surface but suggested by the text. He asks what “if the stranger is within you, the very part of yourself you avoid or deny”?1 

None of us is perfect. We all prefer to shine light on those aspects of our character and personality which make us proud and deflect awareness and attention from those of which we are ashamed, or which threaten the values we prefer to embody. When we do this, we live out of balance with ourselves. The mussar tradition teaches us to honestly assess our character traits, and to work towards finding balance within. This, of course, is a lifelong endeavor, which we never quite complete. Thus, it is the practice more than some far-off goal of perfection, which matters most. When we deny or reject parts of who we are, we effectively stunt our spiritual growth and enter a dysfunctional relationship with ourselves. When we are in a dysfunctional relationship with ourselves, we are more likely to project that dysfunction onto others, and our relationships will suffer as well. And, taking this to the next level, this kind of dysfunction leads to “othering” at best, and bigotry or even hatred, at worst.  

In other words, we are most likely to take care of the vulnerable in our midst, when we recognize, embrace, and work through our own vulnerabilities.