By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
D’var Torah for Parashat Tetzaveh
This week’s Torah portion, Tetzaveh (“You shall command,” Exodus 27:20-30:10) is unique in that it is the only parasha in the Torah since the birth of Moses and with the exception of the book of Deuteronomy, which is told almost exclusively from Moses’s perspective, in which Moses’s name is not mentioned once. The use of the second person pronoun has been addressed by rabbis since the third century and possibly even earlier. Some explain it as a harsh response by God to the “You” used pointedly by Moses to remind God of His responsibility toward the People of Israel, the People God had created and chosen. “You talking to me?” God seems to ask; “How about you and what YOUR responsibilities are!”
The Chassidic Lubavitcher Rebbe has a softer interpretation. By using the familiar “you,” God bypasses the formality of calling Moses by name. It’s all about relationships, the Rebbe teaches.
Still, the question remains open. Why bypass the pattern the Torah uses so frequently, “And God spoke unto Moses, saying…”?
By traditional understanding, the Torah was given to Moses directly by God; the “you” therefore needs no further interpretation. To whom else would God be addressing these words?
The rest of the portion seems to bear out this understanding. The subject matter is mostly the clothing of the High Priests and his fellow Levitical priests. Moses receives instructions for the preparation of the High Priest’s clothing. The ornate nature of the weave, the expensive materials, the gold thread and precious stones and gems used for this outfit, are of the same pattern and mold as the materials and patterns used for the Tabernacle. The holiness of the Mishkan, God’s dwelling-place among the Israelites, extends all the way from the innermost Holy of Holies, to the outermost garments worn by the priest. Clothing may not make the man; yet it must have been difficult for the High Priest to distinguish between God’s holiness, encased by the Holy Tabernacle, and his own importance, encased by similar designs, forms and materials. Gems on his breastplate, gold stones on his shoulders, a golden diadem on his head—how easy it must have been for the High Priest to be carried away by his own self- importance!
It’s a lesson easily adapted to our own day. At almost-daily awards shows, popular media stars model the most lavish outfits, the most expensive accessories and the most costly jewelry. In their own eyes, and in the eyes of many of their followers, that qualifies them to give voice to outrageous thoughts and opinions as though they were the very words of God Himself. Sporting blue contact lenses, Famous Person Tila Tequila recently called herself “an Aryan Goddess.” Another popular media star, Kanye West, waxes exuberantly about his own superiority. And Presidential candidate Donald Trump, notwithstanding the many business ventures he has failed in, describes himself as being good—if not better or even best—at just about anything he touches and does. A true Midas, that.
It is easy to let the trappings of power go to our heads and turn us—in our own minds at least—into something greater than we truly are.
At CNN’s New Hampshire Democratic Town Hall, my friend and colleague Rabbi Jonathan Spira-Savett recently directed a pointed question at Presidential candidate Hillary Clinton: “How do you cultivate the ego a person must have to be the leader of the free world and the humility to know you can’t be expected to be wise about all the things that the President has to be responsible for?”
In her eloquent and appropriate response, Hillary Clinton did not place herself above or even alongside God. Rather, she explained that prayer and devotional readings sent to her by spiritual advisors keep her balanced.
The recognition that we are not gods, that we are fallible and prone to the excesses of ego and exaggerated self-worth, are essential qualities for any leader. If we are to remember the purpose for which we were elected or appointed, if we are not to be blinded and swayed from the goals set for us by the people we are supposed to represent, we must also understand that we are merely human beings, all flesh and blood, all equal under the clothing we wear and the masks we put on.
Perhaps this is behind the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s teaching regarding God’s use of “you” instead of addressing Moses by the name we know him by. A name, regardless of how good or royal, is no more than a handle. It’s a superficial symbol, an arrow pointing towards someone. “You,” however, is a direct address. It reaches all the way to the very core of a person’s being.
Still, without a name there, we can be excused for wondering. Is it Moses that God addresses?
On the one hand, of course it is Moses. On the other hand, the “you” that God speaks to is you and me, the ordinary people whose responsibility it is to appoint or elect our leaders. It becomes our charge to remind them—as many times as it takes—that behind the trappings of power resides a mere human being, as fragile and flimsy as anyone else. None of us has the one and only answer, the one and only right way. It is only by working together, with each of us fulfilling his and her role in life and society, that we have a chance to solve the many issues and problems that face us at any given moment in history.
“You” may refer to Moses, to a wise and kindly rabbi, or to a child who perceives that the king’s new clothing is no more than his birthday suit. Ultimately, the “You” in “You shall command” is each one of us, commanded to remember and remind one another that, underneath it all, in God’s eyes, we are all equal, all deserving of the same rights, all of us equally worthy of equal dignity and respect.