Tetzaveh – English

Rabbi Sandra Kviat

וְעָשִׂ֥יתָ בִגְדֵי־קֹ֖דֶשׁ לְאַהֲרֹ֣ן אָחִ֑יךָ לְכָב֖וֹד וּלְתִפְאָֽרֶת׃

Make sacral vestments for your brother Aaron, for dignity and adornment.  (Ex.28.2-3)

Or as Polonius says in Hamlet: “The apparel oft proclaims the man,” (Act 1, Scene 3).

What does it meant to be humble or show humility? What does dignity look like? For humbleness or humility from a Jewish perspective is about knowing yourself fully and accepting that; consciously knowing what you are capable of and owning what you have achieved, without letting it inflate your ego or step across into the space of others’ role and impact.

The Jewish wisdom teacher Alan Morinis has a really interesting definition of anavah, writing ‘[it means] occupying your rightful space’, whether physical, emotional, psychological, or financial. To be humble means both to step in when that is needed, to occupy space when that is the right thing to do, and it means to step back when it is not your turn, when others need/should have the space.

Moses is described as the humblest person on earth, which is quite an interesting statement. So, what we find coming out of our Torah stories is a message that humbleness means to not be self-serving. For Moses does not become the leader of the Israelites because he wants the power and the glory (or perhaps the broyges). Instead, he does it because he is asked to and recognising his unique background that makes him different from any other Israelite, as the only person not having experienced slavery, he is asked to step forward and occupy the leadership space.

Humility and humbleness make a lot of sense in this context. However, it is rather hard to understand how that fits with the elaborate descriptions of Aaron’s vestment as high priest in Parasha Tetzaveh. It is hard to find humility or humbleness in the many chapters describing the extravagant clothing that Aaron has to wear:

…These are the vestments they are to make: a breastpiece, an ephod [special tunic] , a robe, a fringed tunic, a headdress, and a sash. They shall make those sacral vestments for your brother Aaron and his sons, for priestly service to Me…of gold, of blue, purple, and crimson yarns, and of fine twisted linen. (Excerpts from Ex 28).

And gold, lost and lots of gold; braided chains in pure gold, golden cords, golden bells and a golden pomegranate on the hem. And let’s not forget the gems and precious stones that will also adorn his robes.

This standout image from today’s portion presents Aaron at the centre of a very public and glittering pageant when he is invested as the high priest, the person who would speak on behalf of and represent the Israelite people in front of God.

In this ornate ceremony, he is literally ‘vested’, or dressed, in layer upon layer of highly symbolic ritual clothing, followed by long and elaborate sacrificial rituals. The closest we might come to this is probably the pomp and circumstance of a royal coronation, although without the ritual sacrifice and burning smells of the bull, ram, lamb and unleavened breads.

The ritual of the high priest is part of the big communal project of creating a new sacred space for this new nation. It is, however, quite at odds with what we imagine is life in the wilderness. Having fled into the desert, learning the basics of freedom – being in control of their own time, their own rules and values, and their own structures of society – it is interesting that they need this gold and glitter to show that Aaron is becoming their religious leader. Or perhaps it is not that odd – special moments require special clothes and symbols, and who doesn’t like a bit of bling?

Although when you closely read the text it makes you realise just how much he is wearing and how heavy all the gold and jewels and cloth would have been. He was literally weighed down with the symbols of the people he was representing. And that is one interpretation of this ritual. Though it is easy to be blinded by the glitter and gold of this ancient red-carpet event, it had a much more important and central function than such events today. Yet the rituals of the high priest is not about elevating Aaron as a person, this is not his ‘Oscars’ ceremony, his chance to be the centre of attention. He is, instead, stepping into a role. It’s about taking a job and reflecting on how he can represent and help his people in that function. 

But there is of course a danger of him forgetting his responsibilities, which perhaps is why his clothing is so elaborate and symbolic, and heavy, and why the names of the 12 tribes, and ‘holy to God’ is written on them. His role and his robes were part of the mishkan/tabernacle, they didn’t belong to him, rather they are a reminder to himself, to God and to the Israelites. They are holy ‘equipment,’ a reminder that he is there to serve a function, not to serve himself or his need for glory. He is reminded that when he makes decisions and judgements as the high priest was meant to, he needs to remember to limit himself to an appropriate space to leave room for others. He is constantly reminded of ‘no more and no less’, of how much of himself he can and should bring to the role. Of limiting ‘me, my and I’ when he is the high priest, and instead representing the ‘we’ and ‘us,’ the community

How good are we at that balance today? Individualism is so strongly promoted in global culture today, much of it packaged as fun and entertainment, and yet it discreetly teaches us that what matters is that your needs, and your position is promoted. That the ultimate goal is for you to win/to stand on the podium. Imagine if the majority of reality TV shows were not based on competition, on one winning and the rest losing? 

And what about ‘anavah’ in our own lives? How often do we acknowledge the roles of others, whether at work or at home? And what is there toremind us of the importance of taking up only an appropriate space?

If we see humility as a positive force to build a better society, to shape our leaders, and to help us in our everyday lives; then how can we develop that practice in ourselves, our communities, and the wider world?

Living in the wilderness, freed from slavery, the Israelites needed to build a nation together; embarking on the building of the tabernacle was a helpful tool to get the people from all tribes to work together on a single project. And in that endeavour, they might for the first time have experienced what it means to create something as free people, experiencing honour and respect, through the contributions we each make voluntarily.

The collective building of the tabernacle and the elaborate robes for the priests is a constant reminder that building community (and society) requires collective projects and anavah – knowing what is the appropriate space for each of us. The investment of the priests was not a celebration of Aaron, it was a lesson in anavah, and a celebration of the achievements of everyone.

No more and no less

Rabbi Sandra Kviat grew up in the Jewish community in Copenhagen, Denmark, and was ordained by Leo Baeck College in 2011, becoming the first female rabbi in Denmark. Her ancestry is a joyful Danish and Swedish mix, which she brings to her community work in London with Crouch End Chavurah as well as in a part time capacity with Edgware and Hendon Reform Synagogue.