from the teachings of the Rebbe on the Torah portion
This week’s Torah reading, Tetzave, is the only portion in the entire Torah following Moses’ birth, in which Moses’ name does not appear. (It is also, incidentally, the portion usually read during the week in which the anniversary of Moses’ passing, the seventh of Adar, falls.)
Our Sages explain that the reason for this omission was Moses’ own request, made of G-d after the Children of Israel sinned with the Golden Calf: “And if not (if You will not forgive them), blot me out, I pray you, from Your book which You have written.” The words of a tzadik, a holy and righteous person, are always fulfilled, even if spoken conditionally. Thus, we find that Moses’ wish was granted in this week’s Torah portion, for his name never appears in the entire portion.
However, when we delve into the text itself, we find an interesting phenomenon: This chapter, which specifically does not mention Moses, begins with a direct address to the very person whose name it omits! “And you shall command (ve’ata tetzave).”
A name is of lesser importance than a person’s essential nature. It is a means of identification and a way of being known to others. But one does not really need a name in order to live. A newborn baby exists as an independent being from the moment it is born, and only receives its name after several days. From this we learn that the use of the grammatical second person, “you,” expresses an even higher level of relationship than calling a person by his given name, which was only bestowed on him secondarily. If such is the case, then it follows that the omission of Moses’ name only serves to underscore the very special essence of Moses, which was even higher than the mention of his name could express.
Moses’ whole life was Torah, to the extent that we refer to the Torah as “The Five Books of Moses.” But his greatness was best illustrated when the lowest elements among the Children of Israel sinned with the Golden Calf, explicitly expressing their desire to separate themselves from the Torah. Yet, Moses was willing to sacrifice that which he held most dear on their behalf. “Blot out my name from Your book,” Moses pleaded with G-d, if You will not forgive them even this grave sin.
Moses and the Jews formed one entity, each of whose existence was dependent upon the other. The commentator Rashi explains; “Moses is Israel, and Israel is Moses.” When even some Jews sinned, Moses suffered a spiritual blow. Even though Moses was up on Mount Sinai when the Golden Calf was actually made, he was still affected by the actions of the others.
It was Moses’ self-sacrifice and his desire to forgo that which was most important to him that express a unity that is beyond mere names. It is therefore precisely the portion Tetzave, in which Moses is not mentioned, that reveals his strength and his greatness. The willingness to sacrifice oneself for every fellow Jew, even one who sins, is the mark of every true leader of the Jewish People.
ourselves. If we are cavalier in our commitment to our own principles, then our non-Jewish associates might worry whether we might not betray them next.
A friend of mine was a young doctor when he was called up for a stint of national military service. He was very obviously religious from his yarmulke and beard. In fact, the beard didn’t exactly meet army regulations and it was only with great difficulty that he managed to obtain special permission to keep it. Far from being a nuisance, he conducted himself with dedication and integrity, and at the end of his tour of duty walked away with the Surgeon General’s top award for excellence. That was a Kiddush Hashem — a public sanctification of G-d by a proud, practicing Jew who found himself in a decidedly unJewish environment.
Compromising our values and principles is a sure way to lose the respect we crave from the world around us. Dignity, pride and self-respect earn us the esteem and admiration of those around us, whether Jews or non-Jews. It is a time-tested and well-proven method.
Just learn from the oil. By all means, spread around and interact with the rest of the world. But remember your uniqueness. Be distinctive and proud and know where to draw the line.
By Rabbi Yossy Goldman
In this week’s Parshah we read about the pure olive oil which Moses was instructed to obtain for the kindling of the menorah in the Mishkan, the sanctuary built in the desert as the forerunner of the Temple in Jerusalem. The Lubavitcher Rebbe taught that oil holds the secret formula for how to successfully live a proud Jewish life in an environment which may be far from Jewishly conducive.
Oil, you see, is a paradox. On the one hand, it spreads quickly and easily, seeping through and permeating the substances with which it comes in contact.
On the other hand, when mixed with other liquids, oil stubbornly rises to the surface and refuses to be absorbed by anything else.
Like oil, Jews, too, will often find themselves mixing in a wide variety of circles — social, business, civic, communal or political. And there’s nothing necessarily wrong with that. At the very same time, though, we need to remember never to lose our own identity. We should never mix to the point of allowing our own Jewish persona to be swallowed or diluted.
We often feel a strong pressure, whether real or imagined, to conform to the norms around us. Few among us enjoy sticking out like a sore thumb. The fact is, however, that others respect us more when we respect ourselves. If we are cavalier in our commitment to our own principles, then our non-Jewish associates might worry whether we might not betray them next.
A friend of mine was a young doctor when he was called up for a stint of national military service. He was very obviously religious from his yarmulke and beard. In fact, the beard didn’t exactly meet army regulations and it was only with great difficulty that he managed to obtain special permission to keep it. Far from being a nuisance, he conducted himself with dedication and integrity, and at the end of his tour of duty walked away with the Surgeon General’s top award for excellence. That was a Kiddush Hashem — a public sanctification of G-d by a proud, practicing Jew who found himself in a decidedly unJewish environment.
Compromising our values and principles is a sure way to lose the respect we crave from the world around us. Dignity, pride and self-respect earn us the esteem and admiration of those around us, whether Jews or non-Jews. It is a time-tested and well-proven method.
Just learn from the oil. By all means, spread around and interact with the rest of the world. But remember your uniqueness. Be distinctive and proud and know where to draw the line.
