The Associated Press ran a story some time ago of Andre-Francois Raffray. More than thirty years ago at the age of 47, he worked out a real estate deal with a certain Jeanne Calment, who at that time was 90 years old. He would pay her $500 each month until her death so that he could secure ownership of her apartment in Arles, France. This is a common practice in France and benefits both the buyers and the sellers who are on a fixed income.
Unfortunately for Raffray, Jeanne Calment had become the world¹s oldest living person. Still alive in 1995 at the ripe old age of 122, she actually outlived Raffray who died in 1995 at the age of 77. When all the payments were tallied, he paid her $184,000 for a place he never lived in. Now to make matters worse, the contract stipulated that Raffray¹s survivors had to continue the payments until Mrs. Calment died.
It¹s one of those truths that life has built-in hazards that are both unseeable and unpredictable. Being in a certain enviable position at any given time may look good but sometimes it fizzles out.
We see the beginnings of that truth in this week¹s Torah portion. In it, we are given a very detailed description of the clothing that the priests, specifically Aaron and his sons, were to wear during their priestly duties at the altar in the courtyard of the portable tabernacle. It was an enviable position to be in. After all, the priestly class was closer to Moses than any other group of people. They would receive revelation from God from time to time and, besides the awesome clothes they got wear, the
perks of the job were really great. Anyone looking at these priests would be envious.
But the priests sometimes let their high station get to their heads. You will remember the story of two of Aaron¹s sons, Nadav and Abihu who are mentioned in this parashah. For some reason they saw themselves exempt from some of the priestly regulations that were applicable to other priests and to the regular Israelite in the camp. Even though they got all the clothes and all the honor, they blew it. Actually, they did more than blow it. They blew up when they tried to make an offering to God that was unscheduled, unspecified, and unauthorized.
When people look at the priests, there is an assumption of the kind of people they are. They are dutiful, obedient to God. They are assumed to be righteous. But that is often not the case. Nadav and Abihu were the proof in the desert community that priests are not necessarily right and, in later years, the rabbis would say that the temples in Jerusalem were destroyed because of the corruption of the priestly class.
The priests themselves teach that having a station in life is no guarantee of success. The corollary is true, as well: that having no station in life is no guarantee of failure. After all, Moses was a shepherd with an Egyptian education when he approached Pharaoh and Abraham grew up as a pagan. Not very promising beginnings for careers that would ultimately change the world.
You see, having the station and the title, whether it is priest, rabbi, teacher, president, doctor or any other title does not mean that we get dressed up for work and stand around all day waiting for the world to come to us. Ultimately, the priesthood vanished because that was exactly what it thought.
What they sometimes forgot was that the clothes do not make the man. The man was supposed to live that which the clothes represented. When it did not happen, it was disastrous for the Jewish people.
What is true in history is also true in the lives of today¹s Jew, as well. If we carry the metaphor to this place and time, let us say that we, too, must not rest on z¹choot avot the merit of our ancestors. How many people do we know say that they are proud of their Jewish heritage and yet have done nothing to understand the very foundation of that pride,namely the covenant with God and themselves? Indeed, there are many Jews who dress up as Jews but do nothing with it at all.
A Hassidic master once pointed out that Yom Kippurim, the Day of Atonement is like Purim. In fact the very name Yom Kippurim can literally mean “A day like Purim.” The master asks why this is so and then goes on to explain that on Purim we dress up to look silly but that on Yom Kippur, we dress up to look holy! Now clearly he was not pleased with his community¹s behavior but he makes the point well. Too often we are mere auditors of Torah. We hear the words, we hear the message, and too often we do nothing with it.
It is important to be a Hearer of Torah. After all, listening is the first word of the Sh’ma Listen up, 0 Israel. But right after theSh’ma we are bidden to love, walk, do, care, look, and respond. Sure, listening is important but there is very limited z¹choot in listening. There is much more in doing. Remember what our ancestors at Sinai said first: Na¹aseh v¹nishmah: We will do and then we will listen.
It is for this lack of doing that the priests are given very little sympathy either in the Torah but especially in the much later rabbinic era. Too often the priests listened to what they were to do, clothed themselves properly and made everyone assume that they were righteous when, in fact, they often abused their station and eroded the people¹s trust in them. And the rabbis are not just talking about the priests. They are really talking about everyone who hears much but does not really listen.
Being able to listen is a skill that we ought to hone because being able to listen means that we can respond not only with words of Torah, but with acts of Torah.
It is like the true story of the soldier was concluding sentry duty on the outskirts of London during the Battle of Britain. It had
been his custom in other years to attend worship services when he was home but there, in the middle of what was really a war zone, it was hard to daven. One day it happened that the soldier had walked down the road that led into the city just as dawn was breaking. He came upon an old graystone building over whose main entrance were carved the words, “Queen Anne’s Orphanage.” Since it was the holiday season, he knocked on the door wanting to see what kinds of celebrations were taking place inside. A woman came to the door and explained that the children were war orphans whose parents had been killed in the bombings.
The soldier went inside just as the children were tumbling out of their beds. There were no Hanukah menorahs for the Jewish kids and no Christmas trees for the Christian kids. In fact, you could not tell that there was any holiday going on at all. Still, the soldier moved around the room, wishing the children happy holidays and giving as gifts whatever he had in his pockets: a stick of chewing gum, a Life Saver, a nickel or a dime, a pencil, a knife, a good luck charm.
The soldier noticed a little fellow standing alone in the corner. He looked a lot like his own nephew back home, so he approached and asked, “And you, little guy, what present do you want?”
The little boy replied, “Will you hold me?” The soldier, with tears brimming his eyes, picked up the boy, nestled him in his arms, and held him close. As is often the case, the best expression of living Torah is showing love.
In this parasha, the Torah is asking us how we dress up. It is asking it metaphorically and in light of what later events transpired. Are we clothed with righteousness and good deeds or do we hope that people will just assume it based on our connection with a certain person or a certain place? That is, of course, the fundamental question that Torah asks every Jew.
After we get dressed up as Jews, will we live as Jews?
Will we stand around waiting for someone else to serve, maybe the rabbi or the cantor or the board and be Jewish by proxy?
Or will we seek out opportunities to perform those acts that please God and all humanity?
Rabbi Tanchuma once commented on the verse in the Torah that which discusses what sacrifices are to be brought by the person who takes a nazarite vow and has separated himself from the community.The verse says that he should bring a bull, a ram, a dove, and a flour offering. But Rabbi Tanchuma interprets it quite differently. He reads it as:
“Let one who has a bullock bring a bullock. Let one who has a ram bring a ram. Let one who has a dove, bring a dove. Let one who has none of these things bring a flour offering. And let one who has no flour bring words.”
We all have something inside with which we can approach God. There are mitzvot that are waiting to be performed so that the world may be made more whole. None of us needs fancy clothes to put on the cloak of righteousness. Righteousness will be accounted to us with each act of lovingkindess and Tzedakah that is in our power to do.
We are already ready to serve. The response we give will determine whether we wear the cloak of righteousness and good deeds or mantles that look pretty but accomplish nothing. May God be with us as we make our choices and may all of our choices be pleasing to the One who clothes us in holiness.
From <https://americanrabbi.com/getting-all-dressed-up-for-work-by-cy-stanway/>
