Tetzaveh 5781 – Does God really reject the blemished and handicapped?

Going by what we read in this week’s portion, Tetzaveh, God is a real stickler for details. A perfectionist even. is commanded to have skilled artisans prepare vestments for his brother , who is to serve as the Gadol, the high priest. There’s a list of the vestments to be created: a breastpiece, an , a robe, a fringed tunic, a headdress, and a sash.

Instructions are given as to materials to be used: , blue, purple, and crimson yarns, and fine linen.

Very detailed construction details are given: how the different pieces are to be attached, what stones are to be used and in what order on the breastplate, how things are folded, what color cord is to be used to keep things together, detailed specifications for how the neck opening is to be made, the nature of decorative items such as embroidered and golden bells. The Torah may not include a drawing with the pattern for making the vestments, but the description given is sufficiently detailed that no visual pattern would be needed to make the garments precisely the way the Torah commands.

Additionally, the Torah specifies when the garments are to be worn, and why. And there are further descriptions of the vestments to be worn by the ordinary Kohenim, Aaron’s sons.

The Torah also details the sacrifices to be brought and the ceremony to be performed when Aaron and his sons are consecrated to their priestly duties.

The Torah is also very picky about who gets to serve as a priest. In a passage that is somewhat offensive to our modern sensibilities, the Torah extends the pursuit of perfection to which descendants of Aaron are eligible to bring offerings to God. In Leviticus chapter 21 we are told any of Aaron’s descendants who “blemished” – anyone who is blind, lame, or who has any body part maimed, or a limb that is too long or short, or who is broken-footed or broken-handed, or who is a hunchback, a dwarf, is scabbed, or has scurvy, or has crushed stones, may not bring an offering to the Lord. The list even includes someone whose eyes are too far apart as having a disqualifying blemish. No doubt somewhere in the there’s a debate over how far apart is too far apart.

There’s a natural tendency to seek perfection in anything that’s important. Which is not necessarily a good thing. There’s a saying, “The perfect is the enemy of the good.” Sometimes people get so wrapped up in pursuing perfection they never manage get anything done. Something done perfectly, but six months late, may be much less valuable than something that’s been done pretty good right on time.

Does God really demand perfection?

Some Christians have said the reason Christianity was needed is because , with 613 commandments, was simply too difficult for ordinary mortals to live up to. They said the God of what they call the “Old Testament” was too demanding, no one could manage to be a good person in the eyes of such a picky, demanding God.

But those Christians don’t understand the real nature of the Jewish God. Yes, we may have a lot of commandments to fulfill, but ultimately our fate doesn’t hinge doing everything perfectly. The liturgy is all about admitting our faults, admitting our failures, and throwing ourselves on the mercy of the court.

And the court – God – is merciful. Anyone who has truly done their best and asked for forgiveness is forgiven. God does not demand perfection.

We have many stories in our tradition about how God does NOT demand perfection. There’s a story told of a shofar blower who had tried to memorize many intricate kavanot, special names of God and phrases intended to place the shofar blower in the exact right frame of mind for each particular blowing of the shofar on Rosh Hashanah. The shofar blower made great efforts to memorize these kavanot, but on Rosh Hashanah he froze; he forgot them. He was horrified, broken-hearted that he had messed up, and afraid that the congregation’s prayers were not going to be accepted. But the Baal Shem Tov reassured the shofar blower: he explained that the kavanot may be like keys that fit locks in the heavenly palace, but the broken heart is like an axe that can break open all the locks in heaven. God did not insist on everything being done perfectly. Having your heart in the right place was more important.

And regarding blemished people, we also have a story from the Talmud that tells us that physical blemishes don’t matter.

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Hananya was famed as a brilliant scholar who was physically quite unattractive; he’s even called “ugly.” The Talmud reports an incident when the daughter of the emperor said to R. Yehoshua, “Woe to glorious such as yours which is contained in such an ugly vessel.” R. Yehoshua responded, “Does your father, the emperor, keep his wine in simple clay vessels?” The emperor’s daughter responded, “Yes, what else should he use?” R. Yehoshua told her, “Well, you’re a very important person; shouldn’t the wine be in vessels of gold and silver?” The daughter suggested this to her father, who thought this was a good idea, and he had his wine put in gold and silver vessels. The wine turned sour. He asked her, “Who told you to do this?” She told him, “R. Yehoshua.” The emperor had R. Yehoshua brought to him, and asked, “Why did you tell her to do this?” “What she had told me – that fine contents should be in a fine vessel – I told back to her, to show that fine materials can be best preserved in humble vessels.”

So why all those details then? Why the insistence on perfection, that a blemished priest can’t serve? I suggest the requirement for perfection doesn’t come from God – it comes from people. Those requirements are in the Torah because the people wouldn’t accept a blemished priest. For anything as important as obtaining atonement for the people on Yom Kippur, the people demanded everything be perfect. But God is far more tolerant than that. After all, it’s God who created ALL of us in the divine image. God wouldn’t reject a kohen who was blemished on the outside if his spirit was true. The story with R. Yehoshua has a little addendum. The emperor responds to the , “but there are handsome people who are learned.” R. Yehoshua says, “Yes, but had they been ugly they would have been even more learned.” External beauty can be a burden – it can distract from the real essence. Just as wine is better preserved in a humble container, beauty is a two-edged sword. Looking good on the outside does not mean the contents will be better. Don’t buy a book because it has a nice cover, a bottle of wine because it has a fancy label, or choose a teacher, spouse, or anyone else important in your life because of the external appearance of perfection. It’s an illusion.