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| Sun, 22 Dec 2024 01:54:35 -0600 — |
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D'var: Parashat Tetzaveh 5784 Commentary by Don Burda Friday, February 23, 2024 |
| Exodus 27:20–30:10 |
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Today’s parshah is the natural continuation of last week’s in which God gave details
for constructing the Ark, the Menorah and the Mishkan or Tabernacle. In today’s reading,
it’s the construction of the ephod or breastplate the High Priest will wear—in this case,
Aaron—and the fabrication of the priestly vestments.
Now, if there was ever a case of God micromanaging things, it is certainly in these two parashot. The detail is excruciatingly exact in all aspects, from materials and colors to how each item is made. Nothing—but nothing—is left to chance or to the imagination of the craftsman. Why did He do that? Over the millennia countless people have asked that question and have arrived at answers that satisfied them. Let me tell you what I think. As you know, I spent the first part of my life in the theatre. God’s instructions in these parashot are very akin to those given by a set designer, lighting director and costume designer for a theatrical production. As with God’s instructions, no detail is overlooked. In your own life, you choose patterns, colors, furniture to convey a certain mood in a room. The clothes you choose to wear to an occasion reflect its purpose—you wouldn’t wear a tuxedo or formal gown to a pool party or shorts and flip-flops to a gala. Now, imagine yourself as one of the Israelites. Your clothes are drab, most likely ragged. You live in a small tent made of animal hides or perhaps even outdoors. All around you is sand, perhaps some hills devoid of vegetation—it’s the desert after all. You watch, maybe participate in, the construction of the Tabernacle and its enclosure. You see the finest linen dyed purple, blue and crimson, embroidered with gold thread. They form the Holy of Holies and the Holy Place. You see ornaments of solid gold all around and the large golden Temple Menorah with its cups shaped like almond blossoms. The entire enclosure is 45 feet in length and 15 feet in width—huge compared to your tiny tent. You watch as the priests enter the enclosure, dressed in the finest white linen. Aaron, as chief priest, wears the ephod made of solid gold and mounted with jewels. How would you feel in the midst of all this splendor? Awestruck? And today you can walk into a synagogue and you’re surrounded by beautiful stained glass, brilliant ornamentation, stunning architecture and perhaps you hear prayers being said or a choir singing. You take it all in and maybe you understand how Dorothy felt when she landed in Oz and exclaimed, "Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore." Exactly! And none of this is by chance but by design. Everything—surroundings, vestments, music and words—must accomplish one thing and that’s to take you from the mundane into the sacred. God knew that and it was as true in the days of Moses as it is today. Now, we have here in the UU Fellowship some stained glass; pretty but that’s it. Our building is quite comfortable but no architectural gem. I always wear a tallit and kippah but certainly not as fine as those worn by a cantor in a large synagogue. What we have is nice but that’s about all we can say. So, if we have none of this finery to inspire us, how do we move from the mundane into the sacred? Through the Shabbat Service itself. Consider this: When you hear "Yi lai lai," your mind says, "It’s time for Shabbat. Let go of the world and dwell together in the presence of God and Torah for a while." Then throughout the service, we sing and pray together. Together—WE make it happen. WE transport ourselves from the mundane to the sacred and we remain there throughout the service. And when you hear "Shabbat Shalom," your mind says, "That was lovely; Shabbat is here." At least that’s how I see. And in closing, I could do no better than to repeat the words we heard earlier in the welcoming prayer: May we enter this place in peace. May holiness wrap around us as we cross its threshold. Weariness, doubt, the flaws within our human hearts, the harshness of the week – let these drop away at the door. In the brightness of Shabbat, let peace settle upon us as we lift our hearts in prayer. Shabbat Shalom! Don Burda |
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