My father wore a suit to work almost every day. Each morning he got dressed and put on a shirt and tie, before heading to the office.
Most of his colleagues at the Department of Commerce’s Center for Fire Research were physicists and materials scientists, who spent their days in the laboratories dressed in flannel and jeans and sneakers. Not my father.
He believed that by dressing up for work he showed respect for his colleagues and for his position. He honored his work by dressing honorably.
Parashat Tetzaveh describes the garments Aaron and his sons would wear for service as the Kohanim, the priests who would lead the sacrificial rituals in the Mishkan – the Tabernacle. “These are the vestments they are to make: a breastpiece, an ephod, a robe, a fringed tunic, a headdress, and a sash.” (Exodus 28:4)
The garments had to be kept in pristine condition. The Talmud shares that if the garments became dirty, it was forbidden to wash them with soap, and they were rendered unfit for use.
The garments could not be cleaned – but what about the priests who wore them? After all, as we will learn in next week’s Torah portion, Moses’ brother Aaron commits one of the worst possible sins by helping the Israelites to build a golden calf and lead an idolatrous celebration.
How was it possible for a priest who himself was sinful to wear a pure and holy garment?
Rabbi Anani bar Sason taught that the priestly vestments each brought atonement, not simply for the one who would wear the garment, but for the Israelites whom he served.
For example, the tunic – ketonet atones for bloodshed, as it is written with regard to Joseph’s brothers after they plotted to kill him: “And they killed a goat, and dipped the coat – ketonet in the blood” (Genesis 37:31). The trousers atone for forbidden sexual relations, as it is written with regard to the priestly vestments: “And you shall make them linen trousers to cover the flesh of their nakedness” (Exodus 28:42).
One of the garments called the Ephod was like an apron, held up by suspenders on which was hung the breastpiece and lapis stones. Each of the twelve gemstones of the breastpiece and the lapis stones were engraved with the names of the twelve tribes of Israel, reminding the priest of the people they served. And it was taught that the Ephod of the High Priest atones for idol worship.
So it was that every time Aaron would don the holy garments of the High Priest, he in effect sought atonement for his wrongdoings and that of his people. It was by acknowledging his sins and flaws and misdeeds that he could seek to make atonement, and therefore be worthy of wearing the pure, holy priestly vestments.
But what’s interesting is that even when the garments themselves were no longer fit for use, they were then repurposed for a different holy task. Maimonides taught that the priestly tunics were used to make wicks for lighting the light of the golden Menorah.
None of us are perfect. All of us can remember times when we failed to live up to our promise. Our mistakes and misdeeds not only soil our inner spirits, but can sully our outer garments – our reputations and our legacy.
But just as we can don new garments to effect our inner atonement, so can we also repurpose ourselves to different holy tasks. The consequences of our actions may make it impossible to continue on as before, but that does not mean we cannot find other pathways to holiness and service.
As we stood at Mount Sinai, the Holy One called all of us “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Exodus 19:6). Each of us, no matter what garments we wear, must forever strive to refine ourselves – mind, body, and spirit. We must acknowledge our faults and failings and seek atonement and forgiveness.
And perhaps the best way to seek that atonement is to find new holy missions to pursue, new holy deeds to perform, new holy pathways to follow. It is never too late to repurpose our lives for holiness acts. A soiled garment can be the wick that shines God’s light into our darkened world.
Rabbi Dan Levin
Temple Beth El of Boca Raton
