Parashat Tetzaveh/Shabbat Zachor

February 26, 2026

Geri Bloch, Former High School English Teacher

Throughout my teaching career, there were times when I taught classical Greek Literature: Socrates’ Apologia, Sophocles’ Oedipus and Antigone, Aristophanes’ Lysistrata, Euripides’ Medea, and Homer’s The Odyssey. My students found it fascinating that “men and women hadn’t changed.” When Teiresias, the blind prophet, is accused of bribery, students marveled that bribery was heard of so many thousands of years ago. I used to say, “Men and women haven’t changed, only their ‘toys’ (material possessions) have changed.” 
Greek drama was part of religious theater dedicated to Dionysus, the Greek god of wine and theater. The actors (all male) wore masks to demonstrate a change of character; these were highly decorated and made of linen, cork, leather, or wood. These masks were also used by the actors to amplify their voices in their large outdoor amphitheaters.
As I reread Parashat Tetzaveh, I couldn’t help but think of the robes created for the Kohen Gadol. I hope you do not think I am blaspheming, but it seems to me that the majestic robes created for services in the Tent of Meeting had a certain dramatic quality to them. What is interesting is that Sophocles was writing around the 5th century BCE; the dates of the Exodus vary: There is an early date of approximately 1446-1447 BCE and a later date given as 1250-1290 BCE, but then I read that some feel that the Exodus story was created around the 5th century BCE. I am not a Biblical scholar, but I do understand that not all of the Torah’s dates can be absolute. There might have been some “cross-pollination”  among the nations.
However, we do understand why there is the confluence of events this Shabbat and two days later. We read Parashat Tetzaveh this Shabbat, which is also Shabbat Zachor, the Shabbat of Remembrance. Monday night is Purim, when we remember how the Persian villain Haman tried to kill all the Jews of Shushan, but through Mordechai and Esther’s machinations, the Jews are saved and Haman and his sons are killed. Parashat Tetzaveh reveals how the robes for the Kohen Gadol and his sons are to be fabricated:
     
These are the vestments they are to make: a breastpiece, an ephod, a robe, a fringed tunic, a headdress, and a sash. They shall make those sacral vestments for your brother Aaron and his sons, for priestly service to Me; they, therefore, shall receive the gold, the blue, purple, and crimson yarns, and the fine linen. They shall make the ephod of gold, of blue, purple, and crimson yarns, and of fine twisted linen, worked into designs. It shall have two shoulder-pieces attached; they shall be attached at its two ends. And the decorated band that is upon it shall be made like it, of one piece with it: of gold, of blue, purple, and crimson yarns, and of fine twisted linen. Then take two lazuli stones and engrave on them the names of the sons of Israel: six of their names on the one stone, and the names of the remaining six on the other stone, in the order of their birth. (Exod. 28:4-10). 
The Torah is alive with vibrant color. God wants these garments to be seen by the 600,000 Israelites camped in the wilderness. Was there “stadium seating” in the Tent of Meeting? Was every Israelite able to see the robes that represented the Kohen Gadol? Was every Israelite able to hear every word of the service? I suspect God took care of the details. 
The passages about the construction of the robes seem odd. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks z”l writes: “Judaism – the religion of inwardness, not appearances; of ethics, not power; of character, not the formal dress of office – is not the place we usually turn to, to find the specification of official uniforms.” Sacks goes on to say, “The kohanim are – by virtue of birth and descent, not personal qualities – the carriers of sacred office. Their work is holy. Their domain is the Tabernacle, the physical embodiment of sacred space. They are charged with mediating between the people and God. Their clothes mark their office and role.  .  . The task of the kohen – and the message of his clothes – was to be a ‘signal of transcendence,’ to point in himself to something beyond himself, to be a living symbol of the Divine Presence in the midst of the nation.”
When we complete the parashah, we must read the haftorah from I Samuel, chapter 15. And here is why Shabbat is Shabbat Zachor: The haftorah details how Samuel tells Saul to slay Amalek: “You shall slay all that is his, you shall not have pity on him: you shall slay both man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep, camel and donkey.” Saul does not follow this command completely, which angers God who tells Samuel, “I regret that I have made Saul king, for he has turned back from following Me, and he has not fulfilled my words.” Saul is removed as king because he did not follow God’s words; it is left to Samuel to kill Agag, the king of Amalek. Samuel returns to Ramah and Saul goes home in disgrace to Gibeah. The Israelites have been told that they must slay Amalek, as the Amalekites attacked the Israelites from the rear at Rephidim, as the Israelites left Egypt. The Amalekites are seen as brutal beings bent on the Israelites’ destruction.
So we come to Purim. Haman is a descendant of Amalek, and as we read about his plan to annihilate the Jews in Persia, we know that Haman and his ten sons must be destroyed. Parashat Shemot 17:16 states that “God is at war with Amalek in every generation.” King Ahasuerus has banished his wife Vashti because she has disobeyed him. When the king picks his new queen, Esther, she does not reveal that she is a Jew. Mordechai, Esther’s cousin, refuses to bow down to Haman, the king’s advisor, which leads Haman to plot to kill all the Jews in the 127 lands over which Ahasuerus rules. Mordechai convinces Esther to tell the king of Haman’s plot, and Ahasuerus becomes enraged. Haman dies on the gallows he built for the Jews. A descendant of Amalek is decimated, once again, and the Jews celebrate the Festival of Purim with matanot l’evyonim (donations to charity), mishloach manot (gifts of food), the reading of the Book of Esther (Megillat Esther), having a seudah (a festive meal), wearing costumes and masks, blotting out of Haman’s name with noisemakers (groggers), and creating a Purim Spiel, a play that uses humor to retell the story of Purim, and of course, eating triangular shaped pastries known as hamantaschen (Haman’s hat pastries filled with jellied fruit or chocolate).
On this Shabbat Zachor, as we read Parashat Tetzaveh, we see the design and fabrication of the Kohen Gadol’s vestments. In my mind, God has created a bit of theater to wrest the Israelites out of their wilderness torpor. The spectacle of the blue, gold, crimson, and purple hues reveal God’s grandeur. We remind ourselves of the poisonous evil of Amalek as the haftorah is chanted. And on Monday night and Tuesday, we celebrate the rescue of the Jews by a beautiful and courageous maiden and her cousin. We raise our glasses to Esther and Mordechai and devour scrumptious hamantaschen.
This weekend contains a roller coaster of cognitive dissonance: We remember the glory and grandeur of the Kohen Gadol’s garments. A holy nation must have a representative who distinguishes himself with his sacred vestments. We remember the end of a kingdom run by Saul and the evil of Amalek, the evil that we must blot out in every generation. Finally, on Monday night and Tuesday, we remember the story of  Purim, with beautiful Queen Esther and the descendant of Amalek, Haman. Theatrical? I think so, as the Purim Spiels around the world will use drama, satire, and music to celebrate the vanquishing of Haman. We will wear masks and costumes, but probably not those made of linen, cork, leather or wood. Chag Purim Sameach and Shabbat Shalom.