Trying to make sence of it all, I open several books (web-sites). It’s a short portion, one usually read with last weeks. Both Parshiyot talk about the Mishkan (tabernacle) how to build, what to fill , and who may serve. The biggest distinction between the two: Vayakhel (last week) tells of man’s duty, Pekudei (present week) speaks of G-d’s.
Work your ass off boy’s, in the end it is G-d who must fill our shoes, fix the roof over our heads and put food on our plates. Simple. But there has got to be more to a Parsha that fashions our Priest and tells of his couture clothing. Eight garments designed by the Devine, must be a lesson lurking behind the closet door.
Ruby, chrysolithe, beryl… turquoise, sapphire, diamond… ligure, agate, jasper…. emerald, shoham, jade (28:17-20)
The color of the stones that adorned the Cohen’s breastplate, 12 in all- corresponding to the 12 sons of Israel. As a member of an unknown tribe, I speculate what this bizarre golden chest ornament must have looked like. Illustrators, cartoonists and phsycodelic fiens alike could have a field day picturing a talking vest with four rows of the brightest lights adorned with all 22 letters of the Holy tongue.
Normal huh? This accessory was not to be out done. So, G-d’s name was inscribed within the folds of the breastplate. When the leaders of the community would come to ask questions, this inscription would cause the stones to light up- displaying G-d’s answer. Called The Urim and Tumim (“illuminator and verifier”), the ultimate ATM.
What is the balance in your dresser? My clothing doesn’t light up. {I remember my first NCSY event, this cool Kirk Cameron looking teen was lighting his shirt on fire before some girls} But it does speak. In my blood there is much too much awareness of what threads are in or out. What looks best on whom, and what should be left by the door for a girl you’re bro can not take home. Alas, this is not my turn at fashion critique but rather a tip for my fellow Jewish hipsters living amongst the hippy flower beds and sleeping on 5th Ave. Less is not more unless your showing it. You may not care if the world sees your navel, and you might not provide shade to your scalp- but you should. Walking as a prince, strutting as a princess means being conscientious of what your wardrobe says. I am a Jew. My Kippah announces my love affair with G-d, and my sisters covered skin lets you know it’s reserved for her love.
G-d sketched every detail of Her Mishkan Line. He is the only critic we need to impress. Modesty is in. It never went out. Whether you enjoy not caring too much about whose name your wearing, or you think twice before you zipper your skirt and slide on your slides- a Jew is a class act. She knows she is catching people’s eyes, he knows they might be staring. Care not for looking different but care about looking your part… A precious stone on the chest of the Priest, a link in the golden chain of a people working towards their deliverance.
{have yourselves a very joyous and healthy new month}
*ùáòéí ôðéí ìúåøä seventy flavors of Torah – for the d’var Torah of your choice