(This week’s parasha talks a lot about clothes! A song by Ron Dankar, “My new dress.”)
A programming note! I’m gong on tour:
I’ll be on the road a bunch this spring with a major speaking engagement at Anshe Emet synagogue in Chicago on March 21-22, 2025. You can register here. I’ll also be in the Washington, DC for a gathering on May 7, 2025. You can register here. I’ll be in other cities too, but these are the ones you can register for now. More soon!
Some words of Torah:
My daughters have lots of feelings about my clothes
“I don’t like it when you wear dresses.” one of them will say. And just to make me feel good about myself she’ll continue, “And your makeup looks terrible. You don’t look like you.”
Viewing an opening for favor the other one will let me know, “I think you look pretty Ima.”
The truth of the matter is, they are both right. When I wear dresses and makeup, I don’t look like my usual self, but (at least in my opinion) I look better than usual. Even though these clothes are uncomfortable and don’t align with my usual stripped-down style, they convey a statement to those I serve: I respect you, I respect the occasion, and I’m willing to carry some discomfort to show that I’ve thought about what you want from me as a rabbi, even if it is cumbersome.
Inherent in human leadership is the need to balance a commitment to one’s sense of self with the needs and desires of those whom you serve. When the balance is off, both leaders and followers will lose the plot and their way together. When the balance is achieved, the followers feel cherished and the leader feels protected by the commitment of those whom she serves. The value of this balance is illustrated in this week’s parasha through the design of the priest’s breastplate.
In Exodus 28:21 we learn:
וְ֠הָאֲבָנִ֠ים תִּֽהְיֶ֜יןָ עַל־שְׁמֹ֧ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֛ל שְׁתֵּ֥ים עֶשְׂרֵ֖ה עַל־שְׁמֹתָ֑ם פִּתּוּחֵ֤י חוֹתָם֙ אִ֣ישׁ עַל־שְׁמ֔וֹ תִּֽהְיֶ֕יןָ לִשְׁנֵ֥י עָשָׂ֖ר שָֽׁבֶט׃
The stones shall correspond [in number] to the names of the sons of Israel: twelve, corresponding to their names. They shall be engraved like seals, each with its name, for the twelve tribes.
The breastplate/shield that the high priest wears over his heart carries 12 stones, each representing a tribe of Israel. Each one is different, and each one is precious. In most depictions I have seen, they all fit within equally sized squares. The priest’s heart is ever close to those whom he serves, and the Israelites always see their unique preciousness reflected back to them by the leader who serves them.
The Italian commentator, Sforno, delves deeper into this verse:
והאבנים תהיין על שמות בני ישראל, (And the stones shall correspond to the names of the sons of Israel) as soon as the Israelites when donating these various materials had dedicated them to their sacred purpose, i.e. that their names be inscribed on these gemstones, they became sacred, so that the word תהיין, meaning “they will remain, etc.,” is fully justified.”
פתוחי חותם איש על שמו (they shall be engraved like seals each with its name), this sounds like an instruction to the engraver of these gemstones to have in mind the specific name of the tribe when he engraves letters on the gemstone representing that tribe.
According to Sforno, there is an interconnected web of intention in the crafting of the breastplate. Each tribe needs to donate a precious stone in order to win an everlasting in order to fully merit an enduring legacy. Furthermore, the engraver needs to actively think about each individual tribe as he inscribes their names on each stone. Finally, the priest gets the protection and the burden of wearing a piece of clothing that carries all of those intentional contributions whenever he is in the act of service.
What we wear and carry when we are exercising communal leadership isn’t always about our personal styles, even though it is great when you can manage to pull it off. What we learn from the priest’s breastplate is that the ways in which we present ourselves should be filled with intention with with a desired outcome: that the community knows you are carrying them thoughtfully, close to your heart, and in a way that reminds them of their own value.
I’ll always prefer to spend my days in sweaters, jeans, and sneakers. It is a blessing that in Maine I can pull it off most days. But then there are days that aren’t about my comfort, but are really about the kavod (the dignity) of the community and the tradition. In those days, I may not look like my usual self, but I look like someone who is dressed in a way that conveys a message in the language of my community: this day is special, and so are you. I’ll show you what I believe and how I feel about you through how I dress and act this day — beautifying myself in order to reflect your own value back to you. My daughters may strain to recognize me through the concealer, but I’m still very much there — it’s just a very different part of me, a part that puts the day and my congregation first. And then when I come home, I’ll wipe away the makeup and put on sweatpants and my L.L. Bean slippers and read to them before bed — an ima that wants to be comfortable for her daughters. Both versions of myself are real, beautiful, and necessary. What’s ultimately important is knowing how to wear it all well.
Shabbat Shalom!
What I am reading:
I feel like this is the most important book I have read in a long time: Liberalism without Illusions Essays on Liberal Theory and the Political Vision of Judith N. Shklar
My parents recommended this beautiful op-ed from the Wall Street Journal on disability and Judaism.
From a month or two ago, “The Anti-Social Century,” a must read piece that discusses our current moment and should affect everything from parenting to religious leadership.