Parashat Tetzaveh 5781

לְפָנִ֣ים ׀ בְּיִשְׂרָאֵ֗ל כֹּֽה־אָמַ֤ר הָאִישׁ֙ בְּלֶכְתּוֹ֙ לִדְר֣וֹשׁ אֱלֹהִ֔ים לְכ֥וּ וְנֵלְכָ֖ה עַד־הָרֹאֶ֑ה כִּ֤י לַנָּבִיא֙ הַיּ֔וֹם יִקָּרֵ֥א לְפָנִ֖ים הָרֹאֶֽה׃

Formerly in Israel, when a man went to inquire of God, he would say, “Come, let us go to the seer,” for the prophet of today was formerly called a seer. (I Samuel 9:9)

My eleven-year-old son showed me a YouTube video last week of a man wearing a mask (the COVID kind) imprinted with a realistic picture of a man’s face with a mask pulled down below his nose and mouth (see it here if you like). As he walks into a place of business, someone asks him to please put his mask on properly. He pulls his mask down and the joke is exposed.

The meta-mask prank on YouTube, timely for a Jewish audience entering into Purim, gets to a truth about the human condition: it is very difficult to know someone, to see someone, completely, for who they are. We are multi-faceted creatures, and we may come to know some aspects of a person’s character, but to profoundly know a person’s essence is the high-water mark of relationship, and a near-impossibility. We may reveal certain things about ourselves to some people and other things to others, but rarely does any one person get the full and complete picture of who we are, in our kishkes. We present ourselves to the world in ways that are socially constructed – through our jobs, our titles, our friendships and associations. Perhaps the single greatest external indicator of our persona is our clothing – the way we dress.

As we celebrate Purim this week, our minds are turned to this reality. Purim, of course, is (on one level) about the tension between what is hidden and what is revealed: the presence of God is implied, never explicitly mentioned; Esther hides her Jewish lineage; Mordechai is the keeper of secrets. Dress, costumes, and makeup pervade the story from start to finish. And in our celebration of Purim, it has long been the custom to disguise ourselves; inspired by Mordechai’s royal robes toward the end of the Megillah, we too dress up, in order to become something radically different from what we present in our daily lives.

Parashat Tetzaveh gives us a unique window on this phenomenon. One of the two main foci of the sedra is the description of how skilled artisans are to fashion the priestly vestments. Over 43 verses, we read in great detail about the various components that Aaron, the High Priest, and his sons are to wear when they serve God: וְעָשׂ֨וּ בִגְדֵי־קֹ֜דֶשׁ לְאַהֲרֹ֥ן אָחִ֛יךָ וּלְבָנָ֖יו לְכַהֲנוֹ־לִֽי / They shall make those sacral vestments for your brother Aaron and his sons, for priestly service to Me (28:4). The pieces are many: a breastpiece, an ephod, a robe, a fringed tunic, a headdress, and a sash (28:4), as well as other accessories. And the purpose of this elaborate get-up? לְכָב֖וֹד וּלְתִפְאָֽרֶת – / for dignity and adornment (28:2).

 God is communicating to Moshe the idea that, in large measure, “the clothes make the man,” or, at the very least, “the clothes make the office.” This is made abundantly clear in the final verse of the chapter: וְהָיוּ֩ עַל־אַהֲרֹ֨ן וְעַל־בָּנָ֜יו בְּבֹאָ֣ם ׀ אֶל־אֹ֣הֶל מוֹעֵ֗ד א֣וֹ בְגִשְׁתָּ֤ם אֶל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֙חַ֙ לְשָׁרֵ֣ת בַּקֹּ֔דֶשׁ וְלֹא־יִשְׂא֥וּ עָוֺ֖ן וָמֵ֑תוּ / They shall be worn by Aaron and his sons when they enter the Tent of Meeting or when they approach the altar to officiate in the sanctuary, so that they do not incur punishment and die. The priestly vestments are meant to communicate to the Israelites that this is serious business, that the priests are set apart from the rest of the people; and they are also meant to communicate to God that the priests are there to serve (the robe of the Ephod, for example, is adorned with golden bells. Ramban explains in his commentary on 28:35, “the sound is supposed to announce [the High Priest’s] presence so that he may, as it were, be granted permission to enter before his Lord”). The clothing sends a powerful message to the entire society about the role of the ministering priests. In all of their “dignity and adornment,” they can be clearly perceived in their role as priests. But can they be seen as the people beneath the robes, the individuals whose very breeches are meant לְכַסּ֖וֹת בְּשַׂ֣ר עֶרְוָ֑ה / to cover their [metaphorical] nakedness? (28:42)

Enter the hidden aspect:

It is an oft-noted feature of parashat Tetzaveh that, outside of the books of Genesis and Deuteronomy, it is the only parasha in which Moshe’s name is absent. There are numerous Midrashic and exegetical discourses on this subject. In a well-known midrash (Exodus Rabbah 2:6), Moshe asks God for kehuna – the line of the priesthood, and for malkhut – the royal line, to come from him. God denies him both, telling him that his brother will be priest and that the royal line will be David’s. Accepting his fate, Moshe graciously steps out of the way, as it were, in parashat Tetzaveh, to allow the priest-focused attention to shine on his brother.

Absent from this discussion, though, is the third leg of the Israelite stool: nevu’ah/prophecy. Moshe is to be the prophet par excellence, the unparalleled spokesman for God: לֹֽא־קָ֨ם נָבִ֥יא ע֛וֹד בְּיִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל כְּמֹשֶׁ֑ה / Never again did there arise in Israel a prophet like Moses (Deut. 34:10). My opening quote, from the prophet Samuel, makes explicit the connection between nevu’ah / prophecy, and the act of “seeing.” In stark contrast to his brother, under all his layers of kavod and tiferet, “dignity and adornment,” Moshe, in the office of prophet, is the one who sees what is beneath the covers. The job of the prophet is to peer into the souls of humans, to discern their character, to see their flaws, to connect with them in the most profound, and often difficult or painful ways. The prophet decries externalities: Spare Me the sound of your hymns, and let Me not hear the music of your lutes (Amos 5:23). The prophet instead insists that the people look inside themselves, that they do the work of self-examination and self-betterment: Learn to do good. Devote yourselves to justice; Aid the wronged. Uphold the rights of the orphan; Defend the cause of the widow (Isaiah 1:17). There is nothing in the relationship between prophet and people that is external – it is free of pretense, the most intimate of connections.

In our daily prayers, we say l’olam y’hei adam y’rei shamayim baseter uvagalu’i / “A person should always revere God both in what is hidden and what is revealed.” The festival of Purim and the partnership of Moses and Aaron may offer us insights into the interplay between the external and the internal, the revealed and the hidden, in our own lives.

Shabbat shalom,

Purim sameah,

And keep wearing those masks!!
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Sam Levine is the rabbi and cantor of East Midwood Jewish Center in Brooklyn. He received rabbinical ordination from AJR in 2019 and cantorial investiture from JTS in 2004.