Returning to Eden

Tetzaveh (תְּצַוֶּה) means “You shall command.” The story unfolds from Exodus 27:20 to 30:10. Chapter 27:20–21 speaks of the “Ner Tamid,” the light that burns continually in the Sanctuary and is kindled with pure oil brought by the people and placed in the Menorah to be lit.

God then instructs that He has chosen Aaron and his sons Nadav, Abihu, Eleazar, and Ithamar to serve in the Mishkan as Priests (28:1). Furthermore, they are to be ordained in a seven-day ceremony (29:1–29:46), and Aaron is commanded to burn incense on an altar of acacia wood. Interestingly, Moses’ name doesn’t appear in this passage, but is implied because he’s the one receiving all these instructions. Moses is receiving future guidance, a glimpse of what’s to come, a revelation of what will later occur.

According to most scholars, this portion occurs chronologically after the calf, although narratively it happens before.  If we proceed chronologically, we observe that, first, in Exodus 19:6, God says, “You will be to Me a kingdom of Priests and a holy nation.” That is to say, the Divine plan from the beginning was to maintain a direct relationship without the need for a religious organization, as in Eden, where Adam spoke directly with God without being a priest, prophet, or teacher, and without being circumcised. And yet, Adam maintained an unlimited relationship with God, speaking directly to Him and walking in obedience to His voice; God speaks, and he responds. Then there is a “rupture” due to the error (i.e., sin), because man decided to lose his original consciousness and replace Divine Consciousness with human consciousness, producing a distancing, and keruvim appear to limit access to the Divine relationship. This was not God’s model; in the Divine model, God wanted to maintain a close relationship with the human being represented in Adam, who acted as Priest (serving God in the garden), was king (dominating creation), and prophet (listening to God’s voice), and we see how God inhabits the entire earth; we might say, the world is his Mishkan.

Then there are partial attempts by humanity to reconnect with God, and we see how a certain spark of divinity lingers in Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph, until the original “relational fire” is about to be extinguished in a most restrictive place (Mitzraim), in slavery. Now the slaves lose their Name, their identities, and go from being free men to being slaves. God delivers them with marvellous signs and wonders, continually saving them, and they witness the death of their abusers, thus closing the cycle of their mental slavery. Now, they must learn to live freely, and God decides to send them to the desert, a desolate place, where they are isolated from the world; it is, as we would say clinically today, God sends them into spiritual quarantine.

Thus, we arrived at Parashat Yitro, where God reveals Himself to the nation of Israel, and all manage to grasp the Divine. They hear the Ten Commandments, and the world is reunited as in Eden, with Heaven and Earth becoming one. There is a unification of the spiritual and material worlds. We saw this clearly in Exodus 19:4-6: “…and I have brought you to Myself. Now therefore, if you will diligently obey My voice and keep My covenant, you shall be My treasured possession among all peoples, for all the earth is Mine; and you shall be to Me a kingdom of Priests and a holy nation…” However, once again, humanity causes a rupture. Now God wants to restore His relationship with the collective Adam, the nation called Israel. However, they are overwhelmed by the splendor and the intense, pure revelation, so they ask for an intermediary (Moses) to avoid receiving Divine revelation directly, as it produces fear and dread. In response to this request, Moses goes on a 40-day pilgrimage, and the divine answer appears not as an ideal end but as an adaptation to re-establish the relationship of Eden.

During these 40 days, Terumah, Tetzaveh, and part of Ki Tisa take place. In Terumah, we saw that God’s central idea is that if the people don’t want a direct relationship, they would create a “pedagogical approach” at the center of the camp because God’s desire is implicit in this verse: “They shall make me a sanctuary, and I will dwell among them” (25:8). Thus, God decides to bring Eden into their midst. Do you remember how God restricted access to the Tree of Life with keruvim guarding its entrance?  Now, God places the Ark in their midst, within their sanctuary, with keruvim. As an example of this mediation requested by Israel, the roles appear with pedagogical purpose, not as an end in itself, but as a means to access God’s manifested Presence: Moses as prophet, the Priesthood (Aaron and his sons) as an example of how to dress appropriately (symbolically), the rituals (sacrifices), and the service (Levites in the Tabernacle). God is not introducing a new idea; He is restoring an ancient relationship. In Eden, there was a direct Presence; now in the Mishkan, there is a rediscovered Presence—that is, it is a portable Eden. The Biblical story becomes relational learning. We read then that God tells Moses, as if accessing the Portal of Eden: “There I will meet with you at an appointed time, and I will speak with you from above the mercy seat, from between the two keruvim that are over the Ark of the Testimony” (25:22). Could they see Eden?

Returning to Adam, he was neither circumcised nor an ordained Priest, nor was he subject to ritual laws. There was no temple or Mishkan. It was like teaching us: institutions or roles do not create or guarantee relationships; they do not function as a protective amulet. The purpose of Sinai was not to create a religion, but to restore the conversation that was interrupted in the garden. We might say that Eden was the Original Sanctuary, but now there is a degradation of humanity’s spiritual state, so we must re-educate humankind to access Eden, the Divine Presence. Unlike the temples of other religions at the time, the Mishkan is intentionally empty, without figures that evoke the Divine. It is dark, there are no images, no natural light. This is not absence, it is a return to its origin. There is only the Ark, the Tablets, and the empty space between the keruvim. God commands the construction of a sanctuary, but apparently refuses to physically occupy it. In Genesis, God dwells in a dark and formless world because God is not a visible object. Darkness eliminates sight and awakens hearing; Adam does not see God, he hears Him. He senses His Divine Presence through His voice as he walks, but he does not see Him. The emptiness declares that God cannot be contained. Therefore, the Torah continually tells us: “Shema, Hear…” What did Israel want? It wanted a visible image (the Golden Calf), but God reveals Himself as invisible. God is hidden, and no matter how much light we shine, we will only see the apparent emptiness, because He is present, even though we do not see Him. He is not possessable (tangible), and our encounter with Him requires inner transformation.

Thus, God reveals Himself in Tetzaveh, beginning by indicating that the place where God will dwell is filled with apparent darkness for humankind, who must bring oil to light the Menorah, which is shaped like a tree. Although we don’t read here what the Menorah looked like, it had the appearance of a tree more than a candelabrum, since Exodus 25 describes the Menorah with calyxes, branches, buds, almond blossoms, a central trunk, and side branches. Let’s imagine that it is intentionally placed in the center of the Sanctuary, like the Tree of Life that stood in the center of the Garden. The light of this Tree of Life depends on the oil brought by Israel. Jeremiah 11:16 says, “The LORD called you the Olive Tree, flourishing with fruit...” and that the process of extracting olive oil involves pressure exerted by mill-like presses. And what would Israel bring? The pressed oil. Symbolically, God wants Israel itself to be the offering presented before Him. Israel is the oil that sustains the Divine light in the world, and this light, like spiritual consciousness, must be continuously maintained. Jeremiah suggests in his writings that the people themselves become light. The Sanctuary needed oil to be illuminated; history needed a people willing to be historically pressed so that the light would not be extinguished.

Then God commands that Aaron, the very one who made the calf, be reformed and serve as High Priest, as would his sons, forever. Neither Aaron nor his sons sought this role. God knew what was happening with the calf, yet He still instructed Moses to ordain it for the communal service. They were instructed to make special garments and be ordained before the people, and to burn incense on an acacia altar morning and evening. In other words, Aaron represents the second Adam, a restored man, a model of humanity before the Fall. In Genesis 2:15, Adam says, “Vayikach Adonai Elohim et-ha’adam vayaniḥehu baGan-Eden le’ovda uleshomra; And the Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to serve it and to keep it” …exactly the Priestly duties described in Numbers 3:7-8 (the Priests and the High Priest, to serve in the Tabernacle).

Adam was placed in Eden (the Sanctuary) as a mediator between God and creation, walking before God, and covered by Divine light, so his clothes were unnecessary. At the time of the rupture, God clothed man, and clothes were necessary to cover his shame, his nakedness, his fragility, the awareness of the ego, the separation. Now, in the re-establishment of the God-Man and Man-God relationship, God clothes man again, in this case, the Priests and High Priest, as a symbol of the restoration of the division in Eden. Eight garments are given. In Gematria, eight represents a new beginning, eternity, the transcendence of the natural order (beyond seven), and is associated with the letter Chet (ח), which evokes life and the passage to a higher stage. These eight garments were: First, the Tzit (pure gold plate) for the forehead, which read: “Holy (set apart) to God,” symbolizing that the mind is realigned, that thoughts are different, a re-established conscience; Second, the Choshen (breastplate with 12 stones), symbolizing that the Priest does not enter as an individual, but bears the collective responsibility, repairing the selfishness that followed sin, and the heart becomes communal again; Third, an ephod (vest), a structure that joins the shoulders and chest, symbolizing responsibility. Adam unloaded his responsibility onto Eve; now the Priest responsibly “bears” the people; Fourth, the Me’il, a blue robe with bells to announce the Presence, the opposite of the sin committed in secret by Adam; now, we are open books, transparent, it is like saying, “Hineni, Here I am, God”; Fifth, linen trousers to cover the nakedness, repair the shame, and very deeply, the body ceases to be a source of rupture; Sixth, Ketonet, a linen tunic. This garment covered the entire body to restore dignity, a divine covering; Seventh, Avnet, the belt or sash, encircles the waist, made of very long material and wound several times. The loins and waist represent vital force (see Job 40:16, Genesis 35:11), and impulses—girding the loins—(Exodus 12:11). That is, the Avnet redirects impulses and binds them for a greater purpose; and Eighth, the Mitznefet (turban) placed on the head, is a symbol of humility (we bow our heads).

Tetzaveh then teaches us that the Mishkan was not built for God to have a place to dwell, but rather for humanity to relearn how to be a dwelling place for God, to learn to illuminate the Divine presence to humanity in this world, and to restore the old Adam. My prayer for Shabbat is that we may bring pure oil, clothe ourselves in the new self, and reconnect as in Eden. Let us stop institutionalizing God, and just as God “makes Moses disappear” in this passage to teach us that the relationship no longer depends on a person or a role, but that the Divine Presence can remain even when the great Mediator is not visible, let us likewise teach future generations that on the day we are called to our Heavenly abode, they will not need us, but will be able to access the Divine Presence at all times, something similar to what our Ranebi left us as a legacy to the She’ar Yashuv community, which still stands as a testament that the vessel was not what was important, but rather its contents.

Shabbat Shalom,

Mauricio Quintero