Tetzaveh 5773 - English

By Rabbi Gustavo Kraselnik
Kol Shearith Israel Congregation, Panama

We find a very interesting detail in Parashat Tetzaveh.  Throughout the entire text, made up of 101 verses, Moses’ name never appears.  Though this phenomenon also occurs in several parashiot of Sefer Devarim (Deuteronomy), it makes sense in that case since the leader himself is the one who is speaking.

In our parashah, on the other hand, it seems that this omission is not by chance.  The text begins with the words Atah tetzaveh, “You [Moses] shall instruct” (Ex. 27:20), instead of the traditional “God spoke unto Moses saying.”  And it is in this informal manner that the entire parashah develops, not once mentioning his name, inviting us to search for an explanation to this strange situation.

The most well-known answer (at least in my opinion) is associated with the calendar.  Combining verses from the end of the Torah and the beginning of the book of Joshua, the Tosephtah (Sotah 11:7) determines that the 7th of Adar is the day when Moses died (also quoted in the Talmud, Kiddushin 38a).  Most years, as well as this year, Parashat Tetzaveh is read during the week of the 7th of Adar.

In this sense, the Gaon of Vilna (Elijah ben Shlomo Zalman Kremer, Lithuania 18th century) affirms that Moses’ absence from our parashah was a divine way to anticipate the mourning for his death.  (Quoted in Iturei Torah.)

In like manner, the Chumash Etz Chayim, on its introduction to Parashat Tetzaveh, maintains that the omission of Moses’ name, here and in the Haggadah of Pesach, is staged within the same effort to prevent any attempt to idolize him.

We find another answer in relation to the event of the golden calf, which appears in Parashat Ki Tissa.  In the midst of the negotiations on behalf of the people of Israel, Moses, resorting to his gift as negotiator, harshly challenges God: “Now, if You will forgive their sin [well and good]; but if not, erase me from the record which You have written!" (Ex. 32:32).  As we all know, God acquiesces with Moses’ request and does not destroy Israel.  Nevertheless, it would seem that seeing the magnitude of the threat, Moses cannot go unscathed, and as a reminder of the dangerous nature of his bet, God decides to accept his offer in part and erases his name from this parashah.  At least, this is how the Baal HaTurim (Jacob ben Asher, Spain 14th century) explains it, at the beginning of his commentary on Tetzaveh.

We may find a third answer, undoubtedly the most important to us, from the content itself of our parashah.  After the initial instruction concerning the lighting of the Ner Tamid (eternal flame), the Torah devotes itself mainly to describe the priestly garments (Chapter 28) and how the priests’ consecration ritual should be, namely, Aaron and his sons (Chapter 29), devoting the final verses to indications about the altar of incense.

In other words, the main part of Parashat Tetzaveh focuses on issues of the priests themselves, matters that specifically concern Aaron and his sons.  And although Moses acted as priest the first 7 days, as is described in chapter 29, once Aaron was consecrated as Cohen Gadol (High Priest), the separation of the tasks was clearly established, and from then on, Moses continued to be just the “political” leader of the people, unconnected with ritual responsibility.

And we can imagine that even for Moses, the humblest man on earth (Num. 12:3), this must have been felt as a hard blow.  The Midrash (Vayikra Rabbah 11:6) tells us that Moses assumed that the priesthood would fall on his shoulders as well, so God had to intervene so as to clear up the situation:  On the seventh day God said to him: “Not for you, but for your brother Aaron.”

In all likelihood, perhaps we should understand Moses’ absence from our parashah as an attempt to enhance Aaron’s figure as the religious leader of the people, but even more important, as a lesson in humility and limits, acknowledging that the separation of tasks enriches leadership, as well as trying to avoid the concentration of power upon a single person (even if it is Moses himself), as a way to remind us that it is the people who make up the community, and not its circumstantial leaders, the ones who truly write history.

It would seem that even today, the lessons given to us by Parashat Tetzaveh continue in force.

Shabbat Shalom,

Gustavo