We are merely the vessel for something much greater, for the entire world.

This week’s portion, Tetzaveh, opens with a particular mitzvah which seems at first glance to be rather out of place:

Hashem tells Moshe:

“Ve’Atah Te’tzaveh Et B’nei Yisrael, Ve’Yikchu’ Eilecha’ Shemen Zayit Zach- Katit La’Ma’or – Le’Ha’alot Ner Tamid.”

“And you shall command the children of Israel, and they shall take to youpure olive oil which was crushed for the light, to raise up a continuous [daily] flame” (Exodus 27:20)

Having just concluded a rather lengthy delineation of the specifics of building the Mishkan (Tabernacle) including a listing of all the vessels and their specifications, we now seem to begin the process of understanding exactly what are we meant to do with all the vessels we are building for the Mishkan (Tabernacle).

It is interesting to note that although the mitzvah discussed herein is the lighting of the menorah, the Torah here is really demanding the preparation of the wicks. The format in which the Torah presents us with this mitzvah is not a commandment to light the menorah, but rather an obligation to bring oil, in order that the wicks might one day be lit in the Mishkan.

Why is this commandment raised in such a roundabout fashion? Why not just state the purpose of this endeavor, which is to light the menorah daily in the sanctuary?

Indeed, the Torah here does not even mention the menorah itself?

And for that matter, why do we bring the oil to Moshe? Why not to G-d? (Especially as it is Aaron who does the lighting, so why not bring the oil to him?)

Interestingly, there is something very unique as well as highly unusual in this week’s portion: in all of the Torah, this is the only portion (since his birth in the portion of Exodus) where Moshe’s name does not appear.

The Midrash suggests that in the sin of the golden calf (32:33), Moshe says to G-d: “Me’cheini Na’ Mi’Sifrechah”, “Erase me from your book”. In other words, if I cannot achieve forgiveness for the Jewish people, then I don’t want to be in the Torah. And, despite the fact that Hashem does indeed forgive us, nonetheless part of Moshe’s declaration came to pass, and thus, in this week’s portion, Moshe’s name is, indeed, not mentioned.

Of course, this leaves us wondering what all this has to do with our portion and the mitzvah of the menorah?

The past Lubavitcher Rebbe points out that, in truth, Moshe is very clearly mentioned in this week’s portion, though not by name. The entire portion begins with the word “Ve’Atah” “And you” which clearly refers to Moshe. In fact, it refers to Moshe on a much higher level than his name. Because a name, though certainly connected on a very deep level to who a person really is, nonetheless merely designates a person for everyone else. The person him or herself however, does not actually need their own name, because they are in touch with themselves on a much deeper level.

“Ve’Atah” refers to the essence of who Moshe really is, which is beyond his name. Before we are named we have already come into the world, and we certainly exist; “Ve’Atah” then, refers to the essence of whom we really are.

Moshe’s greatest attribute was his ability to recognize that he was really only a vessel for something much greater than himself. The Torah describes Moshe as the greatest Anav, the most humble person that ever lived. More than anything else Moshe was able to get out of his own way.

How often do we get so wrapped up in our selves, and so caught up in making sure we get what we want, and what we need, that we forget that it isn’t and never was supposed to be about us; we are merely the vessel for something much greater, for the entire world.

Moshe was so in touch with the purpose for which he was meant to be a vessel, that he was able to demonstrate that without the Jewish people, there was no longer a point to his existence.

In a time when rulers and monarchs were acting as gods, and assuming that the people existed to serve them, Moshe was teaching the world that it is not the people who serve the leader, but the leader who is meant to be a vessel to serve the people, and indeed the world.

The word “Ve’Atah” then, refers to a person’s soul which is beyond his name. A soul has, and indeed needs no name; if a name describes a person, the soul is really beyond description. And most of all, getting in touch with your soul is about connecting with why you are really here in this world; Moshe understood his purpose; he understood that without the Jewish people, he had no purpose.

And that is what this week’s portion, and particularly this mitzvah is all about. It is about connecting to real purpose, and valuing the vehicle for achieving that purpose.

Just like Moshe, the Menorah was only the vehicle for bringing light into the world. So often we are so dazzled by the Menorahs in this world, we forget they only have value if they are vehicles for light, which is why the menorah itself is not mentioned this week; so we can focus a little bit on the light. Our mission as a people in the end is simply to bring light into the world.

And indeed, the light of the menorah is not completely tangible. You can see light, but you can’t really touch it or hold it, it transcends the physical, and thus it and what it represents can never be destroyed. Just as the soul, which is beyond the name, needs the body to have an impact here on earth, we need the menorah and the wicks to light up the world.

The challenge for each of us is to find the “Atah” within, the essence of who we are, and the ultimate reason we are here, and bring it into the world

And this is the reason this particular mitzvah is a Tzivuy, a command. The Midrash HaGadol suggests this is a Tzivuy le’Dorot: a mitzvah for eternity. Long after the destruction of the temple and the loss of the menorah, Jews are still fulfilling the mitzvah of an eternal flame in synagogues and study halls. Because this Mitzvah is the essence of the mission of the Jewish people forever: to be a light and illuminate the world.

May Hashem bless us soon, to become, as a people the vehicle for light we are meant to be, and create together a world of light and shalom, truly whole all of us together.

Shabbat Shalom,

Binny Freedman

Rav Binny Freedman, Rosh Yeshivat Orayta in Jerusalem’s Old City is a Company Commander in the IDF reserves, and lives in Efrat with his wife Doreet and their four children. His  weekly Internet ‘Parsha Bytes’ can be found at www.orayta.org