tetzaveh
parasha tetzaveh, exodus chapters 27—30
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and thoughts…
Tetzaveh
Command
Imagine the pomp and circumstance! The high priest with his turban and sash, his jewel-encrusted breastplate, his blue robe with pomegranates of purple, crimson, and blue, the little gold bells that ring out as the hem rustles with his every step. He passes through the crowd and into the mishkan, the magnificent sanctuary that has been built with extraordinary precision in the desert, according to the exacting instructions and as commanded by HaShem. If that doesn’t get one in the right headspace for an other-worldly experience, I can’t imagine what would.
What magic! What mystery! We have nothing today that teases the imagination in such a way. And remember—those folks who were privy to such splendor and ceremony had already heard the Voice of God with their own ears.
Of course, it’s harder for us. We’ve never heard that Voice. Through scientific discovery, we know so much more about our physical reality than our foreparents did, and that makes it easy to explain away events that were easily accepted by them as having come from the Hand of God. Oh, we have the procession of the beautifully dressed Torah being paraded around the synagogue, but usually it’s accompanied by a roomful of people singing off key and chatting amongst themselves.
But, was it really easier for the generation of the Exodus? If it was, why were they constantly complaining? Why were they constantly doubting God? Wasn’t what they’d lived through, what they’d seen and what they’d heard, enough for them, even without the splendor of the ritual?
Apparently not.
I have to assume that if we were to see miracles, to hear the Voice, we’d find a way to explain it away. And, if we were to experience the beauty and majesty of the rituals of the mishkan and its priests, we’d relate to it the same way we relate to an excellently produced, magnificent Broadway musical—amazing while we sit in our seats and watch, but when it’s over it’s over and we go back to our lives.
So, what does it take to GET THERE, to find that communion that our souls long for? If you’re here reading this, that tells me you want to GET THERE, to find that connection to the One Who Spoke and the world came into be-ing.
Let’s look at the week’s Haftorah and see where we were at, spiritually, as a people, after the destruction of the first temple, stuck in exile in Babylon. Here’s our prophet, Ezekiel, telling us in great detail how we are to build the second temple. Until King Cyrus would come along and give us permission to return to Jerusalem and build it, we were, as I said, stuck. Still, by focusing on its rebuilding and studying the plans, its eventual rebuilding was a reality, not a pipe dream.
Maybe for us, here in the early 21st century, the way to GET THERE isn’t through pomp and circumstance at all. We attend synagogue for the community we find there, to pray together with that community, supporting each other; we attend synagogue to study and to learn. But the only way to GET THERE is as an individual. Not through being wow-ed by a spectacle, but by standing still so that the bells don’t ring, so that we can melt into the silence, so that we can hear the STILL SMALL VOICE. And in the meantime, we should be carefully planning for the building of the third temple and preparing ourselves to be worthy of its rebuilding, worthy to receive the great teacher who will lead us there. Otherwise, it will remain a pipe dream rather than a reality. May it come quickly, Baruch HaShem, and in our time.
So, what shall we eat?
We’ve got silver and gold, purple and crimson, and jewels. We can do a lot with that!
The first thing that pops into my head is Javaher Polow, a Persian rice dish that’s studded with jewel-like bits of candied citrus and carrot and dried fruit, studded with almonds and pistachios and fragrant with spices and rosebuds. It’s a spectacular dish—spectacular to look at and spectacular to eat. It’s also spectacular to prepare, because there are a lot of steps to makIng this fit-for-royalty rice-travaganza. You can prep all these “jewels” in advance to speed up the cooking on the day, but it’s still involved.
With that in mind, I’ll keep the other dishes fairly simple. I’ll serve gefilte fish from a frozen log (click here to see how I like to make it) with a relish tray of fresh leafy herbs (parsley, cilantro, dill), cucumbers, olives, and radishes, and maybe some carrot and celery sticks, for nibbling with the challah. (Especially for those who don’t eat fish)
I really want to incorporate all that lovely purple that’s called for in the textiles, and for that I’m leaning towards my Lavender Velvet Cabbage Soup. A purée so gorgeous and so delicious, and it’s also full of cancer-fighting cabbage. The soup can be made with or without dairy—the choice is yours depending upon what you’re serving it with. And as impressive as it looks, it’s pretty quick to put it together, especially if you’re not making stock from scratch.
For the entrée I’m going to go with koresht fesenjan, a delicious stew made with a sauce of ground walnuts and pomegranate molasses. It’s traditionally done with chicken or Cornish hens, but I’ll share a vegetarian version as well. Don’t be dismayed if you have walnut haters. They’re barely perceptible by the end.
I’ll also do some vegetable sides—I’ll decide what when I see what looks good at the produce stand.
And…if you follow me at all, you know that I love to play with my dessert. I’m thinking about the choshen, the breast plate worn by the kohen gadol. It was square. It was gold. It was studded with twelve gems representing the twelve tribes of Israel. I’m going to do a pareve riff on the traditional Persian Love Cake. I’ll bake it in a square pan (the shape of the choshen), color the glaze golden with saffron, give it the lightest spray of edible gold, and decorate the top with a mix of dried edible flowers, which will look like jewels.
And that’s dinner!