Rabbi Freedman’s Shabbat Message

The Jewish calendar is often described as a Lunar Calendar, i.e. relating to the 29½ day cycle of the moon around the earth.  This however is inaccurate.  It is true that the Gregorian calendar is determined by the Earth’s revolution around the Sun, and that the Muslim calendar is based upon the moon’s rotation around the Earth – but the Jewish calendar, strictly speaking, is a combination of both.  Fundamentally, the months in the Jewish calendar begin and end with what is known as the New Moon, i.e. the disappearance and reappearance of the moon in the sky after each circuit around the Earth has been completed.  Twelve of these months form a Jewish year and on average they amount to 354 days.  As one can calculate, compared to a standard Solar year of 365 days – the Lunar year is 11 days shorter. 

The result of this 11 day gap, if consistently applied, is that the Jewish festivals would no longer be tied to the seasons of the year.  For example Pesach always begins on Nisan 15, which this year (2026) happens to be April 1.  If no adjustment were to be introduced into the Jewish calendar, Pesach would begin next year eleven days earlier in the Gregorian calendar, and the year after that another 11 days earlier and so on.  The result would be a major problem because Pesach (otherwise known as Chag Ha’Aviv – The Spring Festival) must be observed between the end of March and the end of April i.e. during springtime in Israel each year.  Hence, the rabbis, with an incredible knowledge of astronomy and mathematics, introduced a leap month 7 times every 19 years to ensure that Pesach is always celebrated in the spring.  Shavuot (the summer wheat-harvest-festival) is another example where a festival is linked to a particular season as is Sukkot (the autumnal festival when the majority of the year’s crops are harvested in Israel) which is why it is always celebrated in September or October.

In ancient times, the beginning of every month was determined by observation alone.  Witnesses reported to the rabbis in the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem that they had sighted the moon following its absence from the sky at the end of each monthly cycle.  Each year therefore, as the month of Shevat ended, normally around January/February, the rabbis searched for signs that winter was over.  If there were no signs that spring was about to begin, the rabbis made an adjustment and introduced an additional month into the calendar to ensure that Pesach and the other festivals would be celebrated in their correct season.  This additional month became known as אַדָר א’ (Adar Aleph), which was then followed by אַדָר בּ’ (Adar Bet) or the Second Adar.  Nowadays, since the advent of a fixed calendar devised by Hillel II in the fourth century CE, this decision is not made by the rabbis in the Sanhedrin, but is known in advance due to the mathematical calculations of the fixed calendar. 

For example, this year 5786 is a regular year with just 12 months in it – but next year 5787 (2027) along with 5790 (2030) and 5793 (2033) will be Leap Years with the extra month Adar Aleph inserted between Shevat and Adar Bet.

In a twelve month year Purim always occurs on the fourteenth day of Adar.  In a leap year it is to be observed on the fourteenth day of Adar 2.  Two reasons are given, firstly because this is the authentic Adar and secondly because, according to our sages, Purim should be celebrated as close as possible to our other great festival of deliverance, namely Pesach.  (In Jerusalem and a limited number of other ancient walled cities, Purim is observed a day later – this is known as Shushan Purim, so named after the Persian capital at the time, where the fighting continued for an extra day before the Jews could claim victory and celebrate their deliverance.)

It is an interesting fact that other than during leap years, the sidra of Tetzaveh and the festival of Purim always coincide – this year is no exception with Purim taking place next Monday evening and Tuesday.  Many of our sages have asked what connects the two, for on the surface they seem to have little in common.  Purim tells the story of the failed attempt to exterminate the Jews of Persia; Parashat Tetzaveh, by contrast, contains a series of instructions relating to the Mishkan or Tabernacle.  In fact one could argue that to some degree they are contradictory, one story is filled with anguish and fear, the other with light and hope – and yet the sages considered that there must be something that links Purim to this particular sidra.

The first idea that comes to mind is the comparison between duties that are authorised and traditions that are freely accepted.  Tetzaveh represents מִצְווֹת or commandments, particularly those related to rituals in the Sanctuary, Purim by contrast is said to represent the voluntary acceptance of the oral law and rabbinic tradition.  Both are essential for the preservation of the Jewish people. 

This is made very clear in the Talmud:

וַיִּֽתְיַצְּב֖וּ בְּתַחְתִּ֥ית הָהָֽר

They stood beneath the mountain

(Exodus 19:17)

Rav Avidni bar Chama said, “These words teach us that God held Mt Sinai over the Israelites like a barrel, and said to them: ‘If you accept the Torah, then all will be well with you, but if not, this will become your burial place.”  Nonetheless Rava taught that one day Jews would accept the Torah voluntarily.  This, he suggested, would be during the days of King Ahasuerus, as reported in Megillat Esther (Esther 9:27): קִיְּמ֣וּ וְקִבְּל֣וּ that the Jews willingly and happily accepted and fulfilled the law.  Here, he claimed, is the evidence that the Jews accepted the Torah voluntarily, where previously it had been forced upon them. 

(TB Shabbat 88a)

Why is Purim singled out as a time to make special mention of the Jews’ loyalty to their faith?  Some suggest that in the aftermath of the destruction of the Temple some years earlier – God’s presence was hidden.  Perhaps this is why God’s Name is not found at all in the Megillah or why the heroine of the story bears the name Esther – which comes from a Hebrew verb meaning ‘to be hidden’.  Yet in spite of such challenging times, the Jews continued to put their trust in God, and although it may have seemed to some that God was ‘missing in action’ – the Jews at that time never considered abandoning their ancient customs and laws.

One might then ask what has this to do specifically with Parashat Tetzaveh?  After all there are מִצְווֹת or commandments in almost every sidra from Parashat Bo through to the end of the Torah where the Israelites were instructed and expected to obey?  So why does Tetzaveh have the honour to be read each year in the week of Purim?  Why does Tetzaveh illustrate the difference between observing Torah through coercion, as opposed to choice, more than any other Torah reading? 

In answering this query, the sages said that there was indeed a special reason why Tetzaveh was chosen to accompany Purim.  The Talmud explains as follows (TB Megillah 11b) that when the King of Persia held a royal banquet, as mentioned in the opening chapter of the Megillah, it was for the sole purpose of celebrating the 70^th anniversary since the destruction of the Temple by the Babylonians in 586 BCE.  How dreadful that the Persian elite were rejoicing because the Beit Hamikdash had been destroyed, a sanctuary, which in its earliest form served as a sacred shrine in the wilderness as mentioned in Parashat Tetzaveh.  

Rabbi Chaviv Danesh elaborates on this topic:

With this in mind we can gain an insight into the custom of wearing costumes on Purim.  A mask covers the identity and to a certain degree the existence of the one wearing it.  It is only when we lift the mask that we can see who is behind it.  

In Hebrew the word עוֹלָם olam (world), shares a root with the word נעלם ne’elam (hidden).  This is because the laws of nature often hide the presence of God, as a mask hides the identity of the one behind it.  

It is therefore left to us to see through the mask and reveal God’s presence in the world.  Purim, by the nature of its hidden miracles, is the perfect time to remind ourselves that there is more to the world than what meets the eye – hence the custom to wear fancy-dress on this day.

We can now understand the idea behind the reacceptance of the Torah on Purim.  When the Jewish People left Egypt they were on a spiritual high.  The miracles, and thus God’s presence in the world, was so clear that all doubts disappeared.  It was this clarity that the Midrash metaphorically refers to as a mountain or barrel hanging over the Jewish People.  

At the time, the revelations were so intense and the significance of the Torah was so apparent that it was almost as if there was no option but to accept the Torah.  Therefore, even though their acceptance of the Torah was essentially voluntary, it also had an element of compulsion.  On Purim however, when God’s presence was hidden, the Jewish People re-accepted the Torah without any coercion of the “mountain” of clarity.  This is the reason why it took until Purim to re-accept the Torah.  In the midst of God’s concealment, Purim was indeed the most opportune time for the Jewish People to re-accept the Torah through exercising the full extent of their own free will.

This leads to a second direct connection between Purim and Parashat Tetzaveh.  Clothes appear to be a significant feature of the Purim story and the accompanying celebrations.  The sidra also describes special garments worn by the priests as they officiated in the Mishkan. 

וְעָשִׂ֥יתָ בִגְדֵי־קֹ֖דֶשׁ לְאַֽהֲרֹ֣ן אָחִ֑יךָ לְכָב֖וֹד וּלְתִפְאָֽרֶת: וְאַתָּ֗ה תְּדַבֵּר֙ אֶל־כָּל־חַכְמֵי־לֵ֔ב אֲשֶׁ֥ר מִלֵּאתִ֖יו ר֣וּחַ חָכְמָ֑ה וְעָשׂ֞וּ אֶת־בִּגְדֵ֧י אַֽהֲרֹ֛ן לְקַדְּשׁ֖וֹ לְכַֽהֲנוֹ־לִֽי:

Make sacred garments for your brother Aaron to give him honour and glory.  Tell all the skilled workers to whom I have given wisdom in such matters that they are to make garments for Aaron, for his consecration, so he may serve me as priest.  (Exodus 28:2-3)

The two come together in a statement by Rabbi Yosi bar Chanina (TB Megillah 12a) who claimed that at the royal banquet organised to celebrate the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash, King Ahasuerus provocatively took the priestly robes out of storage (presumably the Babylonians had removed them from Jerusalem as they plundered the Temple) and he decided to don them himself – perhaps as an act of vanity, or in the belief that they had spiritual properties which would invest him with divine powers, or as an act of disrespect to his Jewish population – taunting them and reminding them that they were entirely subservient to his will and that he had almost complete control over their fortunes.  In fact the very same Hebrew words used in the weekly sidra to describe the reason for wearing these garments כָּבוֹד and תִּפְאֶרֶת (for honor and glory) are also found in the opening verses of the Book of Esther (Esther 1:4) implying some association with Aaron’s garb.  But whatever his motivation, the king would not have understood or appreciated the deeper spiritual qualities of these clothes.  The Talmud in Zevachim makes the following point:

Why was the section in the Torah that discusses offerings juxtaposed to the section which discusses the priestly clothing?  To inform you that just as offerings effect atonement, so too, priestly vestments effect atonement.  The ketones or tunic atones for bloodshed.  The michnasayim or trousers atone for forbidden sexual relations.  The mitznefes or mitre (a form of head covering) atones for the arrogant.  The avneit or belt atones for improper thoughts.  The choshen or breastplate of the High Priest atones for incorrect judgments.  The ephod or apron of the High Priest atones for idol worship.  The me’il or robe of the High Priest atones for malicious speech and the tzitz or diadem of the High Priest atones for brazenness. (Zevachim 88b)

The alignment of this week’s sidra with the festival reminds us that clothes, as attractive and precious as they sometimes are, remain only an outer covering – as such they are often used to deceive others as to the nature of the person wearing them.  Sadly, there are even times when the wearer is deluded into thinking that the clothes alone change the person wearing them.

Clothes can cover the person – but they cannot change the personality of the one wearing them.  Hiding is a theme of this festival – so hidden away beneath garments is a real person; how they act, what they achieve, how they influence others for good is dependent entirely on the person inside the attire, it is not visible in or affected by the fabric, however fashionable or valuable it may be.

To conclude, I would like to bring one further idea in the name of Rabbi Berel Wein z”l, who also considered that this week’s Torah reading enjoys a special relationship with Megillat Esther and the Festival of Purim.  Rabbi Wein pointed out that from the very beginning of Sefer Shemot, which introduces the story of the Exodus, including the events surrounding the birth of Moses, we find the name of the Israelite leader in every single parasha – with just one exception.  In Parashat Tetzaveh Moses’ name is missing, even though we are aware that Moshe is the one who wrote this portion of the Torah and taught it to the Jewish people.  The sidra begins with a direct reference to him:

וְאַתָּה תְּצַוֶּה אֶת-בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל

And you (referring to Moses) shall command the Children of Israel

(Exodus 27:20)

We are aware from these introductory words that Moses is the director of events behind the scenes – but the fact remains, that his name is mysteriously missing from the entire Torah portion this week.

Said Rabbi Wein, there have been many commentaries over the years explaining why this is so, but relating this unusual feature of the sidra to the Festival of Purim brings us back most obviously to the theme of something or someone being hidden from view.

Moses’ absence from the text is a demonstration of his modesty and self-effacement – the very opposite of a narcissist: he preferred to be in the wings, in the background, avoiding publicity, sailing under the radar – rather than being in the photo, in the limelight, the centre of attention, sitting in the front row with the crème de la crème.  It was God who allowed Moses his wish – just this once – to be anonymous; a moment in time which reflected his humility and noble character.  In the same vein, we find that God’s Name is missing from the Megillah.  There is no indication of any intervention by a supernatural power in the events described – instead it reads as a story of political intrigue, of brave Jews and evil anti-Semites, unimaginable danger and unbelievable deliverance and perhaps above all as an example of the complexities and subtleties of life, as well as the unpredictable nature of human existence.

Nonetheless, as with the opening words of Parashat Tetzaveh, there is an unseen and unmentioned director of events controlling the narrative of this story.  Purim is the holiday that commemorates this concept.  In Rabbi Wein’s words:

There is no flash-of-lightning or roar of thunder, no volcanic eruptions or plagues of locusts that mark this miracle.  Yet, it is obvious that when we piece the whole story together, the miracle of the event becomes obvious and revealed, no matter how hidden it was while it was being enacted.  Perhaps this is the reason why Purim is such a day of unmitigated joy because it represents the joy of thousands who discovered and unravelled a mystery, the solution of which was not originally understood.  

It is a form of pure delight in the discovery of a hidden Director, the Holy One blessed be He, who fills the reader with both merriment and joy.  When a hidden treasure is revealed, humans are usually overcome with a feeling of happiness and achievement, and it is the same here.

The message is significant, but not always obvious – for God to be found, for spirituality to flourish – make a little less of yourself, in the spirit of Purim ‘hide yourself’ and in so doing you will automatically make others more visible.  It is a truism that those who seek fame and privilege will leave others unseen and perhaps even unloved.  The greatest recognition that anyone can ever receive is when they recognise others and accord them the כָּבוֹד and תִּפְאֶרֶת, the honour and the glory that both the sidra and the Megillah mention. 

We live in a world where so much is hidden and needs to be revealed: the good in others, the sacred and divine, even the truth which is so often obscured by ‘fake news’.  Our portion of the week Tetzaveh and our festival of the week, Purim – are forever united in their effort to remind Jews everywhere, that being hidden from view is not unusual but rather a challenge.  Our duty is to find that which is concealed and uncover it before it is too late and lost for ever.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi David Freedman