By Rabbi Dr. Michael Leo Samuel in Chula Vista, California
This week’s parsha, Ki Tetzaveh, centers on the sacred garments of Aaron and his sons—the elaborate vestments of the priesthood, described in meticulous detail: the ephod, the breastplate with its twelve stones, the robe with its bells and pomegranates, the turban inscribed “Holy to the Lord.”
These were not ordinary clothes; they were “for glory and for splendor” (Exodus 28:2), designed to dignify the priests as they stood before God and the people, mediating between the human and the Divine.
One of the most striking features of the parsha is the complete absence of Moses. His name is not mentioned once, while Aaron’s appears more than 30 times. In the portion dedicated to the priesthood and its consecration, Moses steps aside. He hands the ceremonial role to his brother, allowing Aaron to take center stage. This quiet transfer reminds us that true leadership often involves knowing when to empower others and step back.
What do these ancient garments mean for us in 2026? The priesthood itself remains largely symbolic today—no Temple, no daily offerings—yet the Torah calls the entire Jewish people a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Exodus 19:6). The kohanim model the vocation we all share: cultivating holiness, serving the community, and drawing others closer to God.
The kohanim lived lives dedicated to this mission. They owned no land in Israel; their existence revolved around service and blessing. They guarded the sanctity of life rigorously, avoiding tumah (ritual impurity) linked to death or diminishment, and upholding elevated standards in conduct and diet. Above all, they were sources of blessing. Aaron, the first High Priest, was renowned as the great pursuer of peace.
A Midrash recounts how he would approach people in conflict separately, gently pointing out each one’s remorse until anger dissolved and reconciliation followed. When Aaron died, the entire House of Israel mourned him deeply—because he had brought harmony where division had prevailed.
The priestly blessing, recited for centuries, continues to carry this legacy of shalom. It is a reminder that we are called to transmit peace and blessing into the world.
As we approach Purim in just a few weeks, there is a profound connection between the garments of Ki Tetzaveh and the masks and costumes we will soon wear. In the Book of Esther, God’s name is never mentioned; the Divine presence is hidden behind “coincidence” and human action—what the tradition calls Hester Panim, the hiding of the Divine Face.
The Purim story unfolds through disguises, reversals, and hidden identities: Esther conceals her Jewishness, Mordechai rises from outsider to savior, Haman falls through his own schemes. On Purim, we too put on masks and costumes, inverting the ordinary order—turning sorrow into joy, fear into laughter, hiddenness into revelation.
The priestly garments and the Purim masks both speak to the same truth: external appearance can conceal, reveal, or transform inner reality. The kohanim’s splendid vestments made visible their sacred role, dignifying their service and reminding the people of God’s presence. On Purim, our costumes and masks allow us to step outside ourselves, to play with identity, to mock evil, and to reclaim power through joy. Both practices teach that what is hidden can be holy, and what is revealed must serve a higher purpose.
In both cases, the outer layer points to something deeper. The priests’ attire was not about vanity; it was about readiness to serve. Purim costumes are not mere play; they are a ritual of resilience, a way of saying that even in times of hiddenness and danger, the Jewish spirit endures and triumphs.
We remain a priestly people with a mission: to embody ethical monotheism, pursue justice and peace, and bring blessing amid a world that often resists these values. This calling has always carried a cost—history shows that evil frequently targets us because of our distinct role. Yet it is also our source of enduring pride and purpose.
As we read of Aaron’s garments this Shabbat and prepare for Purim’s masks in the weeks ahead, may we “dress” our lives with intention—wearing dignity in service, courage in hiddenness, and peace in every encounter.
Shabbat shalom—and may the joy of Purim already begin to shine through.
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Rabbi Dr. Michael Leo Samuel is spiritual leader of Temple Beth Shalom in Chula Vista, California