Parshat Tetzaveh/Shabbat Zachor — Don’t let the light go out

The opening words of Parshat Tetzaveh are: “You shall further instruct the Israelites to bring you clear oil of beaten olives for lighting, for kindling a ner tamid” (Exodus 27:20).

The ner tamid of the Bible refers to the continuous fire that symbolized God’s presence in the portable tabernacle, and later the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem. Since the destruction of the Temple in 70 C.E., it has been the custom that a ner tamid, an eternal light, shines in the sanctuary of every synagogue. Both the continuing fire that burned in the sanctuary in biblical times and the synagogue lamp that carries its name today are the symbol of God’s presence.

In looking back upon the many divre Torah that I have written on this parsha, I found that the most recurring theme has been my understanding that the ner tamid, the eternal light, is not only an affirmation of the presence of God but also a confirmation of the presence of a Jewish community. If there are no Jews tending to the ner tamid, the light will go out. In biblical days someone had to bring the oil. In modern times, where electric light bulbs have replaced olive oil, someone still has to change the bulb and someone or some community has to pay the electric bill. For me, the emphasis in the opening verse of our Torah portion has been that “bnai Yisrael,” referring to us, the Jewish people, have a responsibility to God, in the words of Tom Bodett’s old Motel 6 commercial, to “keep the light on for You.”

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This Shabbat, the Sabbath preceding Purim, has a special name. It is called Shabbat Zachor, the Sabbath of Remembrance. In addition to our weekly Torah portion from Exodus, which opens with the command to keep an eternal light burning in our sanctuaries, we will also read Deuteronomy 25:17-19:

“Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt. How, undeterred by Awe of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in the rear. Therefore, when God grants you safety from all your enemies around you, in the land that your God is giving you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget.”

In the Megillah of Esther, Haman is identified for us as an Amalekite, which is the source of the tradition of reading this passage this Shabbat.

There are no non-biblical references to Amalek as an actual ancient Middle Eastern people. My professor of Bible at HUC-JIR, Rabbi Chanan Brichto, of blessed memory, taught us that he believed that Amalek, whom the Bible refers to as living in multiple geographic areas, was the biblical word for terrorist, rather than an ethno-religious identity. Therefore the command to wipe out the Amalekites in Deuteronomy 25 is not a justification for ethnic cleansing but rather, a call to stand up to terror and terrorists wherever and whenever they appear. Counter to the lies of Israel’s enemies, this has remained the policy of Israel throughout this long and terrible war, which began on October 7, 2023, with the slaughter of innocent Israelis in their homes along the Israel-Gaza border.

Rabbi Brichto first shared this lesson in the early 1970s, when terrorism against Israel and against Jews around the world was rampant. His message then, which remains both relevant and salient to me post October 7, is that we Jews have a responsibility to stand up and fight against terrorists such as Hamas, while also continuing to reach out a hand of peace to Palestinians.

For me this year, the command to light a ner tamid, with which Parshat Tetzaveh begins is both a symbol of our responsibility as the Jewish people to open our communities to the transcendent light of God, and also a call to search for the ner tamid, the light of God, that is imminent in me and in every other human being. The greatness of Torah is that it speaks to each of us as individuals to search for the light of God’s presence within ourselves, while simultaneously commanding us as a community, in the spirit of Tom Bodett, to keep the light of God’s presence burning brightly in our midst. The ner tamid is a source of both illumination and enlightenment. Torah is not only a covenant between we the people and God, but simultaneously, a contract between every person — every “me” — and God.

The challenge for 21st-century Judaism is to teach that there is a powerful truth in the fact that the parsha begins with “Atah,” the singular form of the second person pronoun. “Atah Tetzaveh” is, for me, a command to use the ner tamid, the light of God’s presence, as both a flashlight to illuminate our search for God within us, and as a beacon to see God’s presence in the world beyond us. Moreover, each of us is commanded to not only see this as a responsibility of “bnai Yisrael,” the community as a whole, but also as a personal obligation.

Sforno, the great Italian Jewish scholar of the 15th century, confirms this last challenge, in his commentary on the word ”atah” with which our parsha opens. He notes that this is one of only three places in the Torah narrative on the building of the sanctuary where Moses is commanded to do this mitzvah himself, rather than merely delegate its fulfillment to others.

Sforno’s commentary from half a millennium ago, and the message of Mordechai to the reluctant Esther to stand up and speak up to power on behalf of her people, found in the Megillah of Esther, teach me that you and I are tetzaveh, commanded, not only to keep the ner tamid burning by continually recreating Jewish community, but that each of us is personally commanded to find the divine light within us and to use it both as a mirror to see the beauty of our individual souls, and as a beacon to brighten the world beyond.

In a time when our world, including America and Israel, is darkened by clouds of war and of social and political upheaval, all attempting to eclipse the light of the divine, on this Shabbat Zachor we are reminded of the foreboding presence of Haman-like Amalekites threatening our very existence. The command to light the ner tamid here in Parshat Tetzaveh reminds me that as powerless as we often feel to make a difference in our world, we actually can, if we just keep the light of God shining through, not only for ourselves but for future generations.

To quote from the Chanukah song of the American Jewish folk singer Peter Yarrow , who recently died, on this Sabbath of Remembrance let us all commit ourselves to “don’t let the light go out.” On Purim, as we celebrate the liberation of the Jews of ancient Persia, may we also celebrate the liberation of all the hostages of October 7 and the liberation of the Palestinians of Gaza who remain hostage to the terrorization of Hamas.