Oil from an Olive in Tetzaveh
This week’s parsha begins with the command Moses gives to the Israelites to bring him oil of beaten olives for lighting the lamps perpetually (Exodus 27:20). When we examine the Hebrew in this first verse we can glean many spiritual teachings.
וְאַתָּה תְּצַוֶּה אֶת־בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְיִקְחוּ אֵלֶיךָ שֶׁמֶן זַיִת זָךְ כָּתִית לַמָּאוֹר
לְהַעֲלֹת נֵר תָּמִיד׃
V’atah tetzaveh et-B’nai Yisrael vayikhu eylekhah shemen zayit zakh catit l’aimore
Now you [Moses] command the Children of Israel, that they may take1 you
oil of olives, clear, beaten, for the light, to draw up a lampwick, regularly.
The word tetzaveh / תְּצַוֶּה is from the root word tzav, meaning to connect. It’s the same root for the word mitzvah. The very act of doing a mitzvah is a way to connect to a higher spiritual power. It binds us to the good in the universe, to the All-One2. So, if we include that idea, we can read the verse as “You, Moses, connect with the Children of Israel….” The fact that Moses himself is giving this way of connection is truly beautiful. He will be connecting to every person bringing him the oil.
And what can we learn about the process of beating the olives to attain the oil? It takes the squeezing and pounding of about 20 olives to make just one tablespoon of oil. And then the oil needed to be free of debris…absolutely pure. Straining and straining…until only the clearest and best was the result. The intense physical act of grinding, beating, pounding the olive is for a greater purpose. Our sages say that just as the olive yields light only when it is pounded, so are our greatest potentials realized only under the pressure of adversity. We find our greatest strength when we are challenged to go beyond our capacity.
The end of the verse speaks about a light that is lit continually, and our tradition explains how. The light is to be kindled so gently…until the flame ascends by itself (Talmud, Shabbat 21a). This beautiful teaching models the way we should enlighten others. Provide just the right environment for the learner to elevate themselves. Gently, with patience. Until the teaching ‘catches’ the flame of light.
Today, the Ner Tamid is found in synagogues in front of the ark. Usually beautifully crafted, it stays always lit, a perpetual reminder of the commandment, the connection. But the spiritual idea behind the lighting of the lamps pales next to the modern day lamp, which is lit with the flip of a switch—-constantly fed by an electric current without a touch of a human hand. The daily noticing and tending is no more.
The first verse of Tetzaveh teaches us the way to connect, by putting effort into what we give. Love is increased when we put effort into our love, and caretaking nourishes this flow. The acts here are not symbolic, but require consistent and steady output.
Our very souls, the people we love, and the All-One are worth nothing less.
For an explanation as to why the translation notes to ‘take’ instead of the expected ‘bring’, see my previous post on Terumah.
In previous posts, I shared that for many reasons, I refrain from using the word God. The word All-One, which I came across in a translation of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch’s Nineteen Letters struck me as unusually beautiful.