This past Shabbat during services, we collectively studied Parashat Tetsaveh, the Torah portion known as Tetsaveh, which means “You [Moses] shall instruct.” The portion falls in the last third of the Book of Exodus as Moses remains with God at Mt. Sinai, gathering instructions for the Israelites with regard to, among other topics, the construction of the tabernacle, that portable sanctuary that will travel with them throughout their wilderness wanderings, reminding them of God’s presence in their midst.
In particular, this portion includes the instructions for Aaron’s (Moses’s brother’s) initiation into the priesthood, along with the initiation of his sons. They are to be the caretakers of this sanctuary. It is a lofty office, theretofore unknown among the Israelites. As priests they will serve as stewards to the space known as kodesh hakodashim, the Holy of Holies.
As part of their initiation, God instructs Moses to have Aaron and his sons samakh et yedeihem, lay their hands upon the heads of a sacrificial bull and pair of rams, whose blood will consecrate the altar, and themselves. The semikha, from the word samakh, the laying the hands on the head, was to become a central part of the ordination ritual for leaders of the Jewish community for generations to come. As the revered medieval scholar Maimonides wrote, “Our teacher Moses ordained Joshua by placing his hands upon him, as it is written: ‘He laid his hands on him and commissioned him; (Numbers 27:23). Moses also ordained the seventy elders, and the Divine Presence rested upon them. The elders ordained others, who in turn ordained others. This tradition continued until the Talmudic era, when the Sages had received ordination one from the other in a chain extending back to the court of Joshua, and to the court of Moses.”
Speaking to a chain of tradition symbolizing the passing of the leadership mantle, and enlarging the numbers who are capable of it, Semikha remains the Hebrew word used for ordination to this day; the President of the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College laid her hands upon me facilitating my ordination as rabbi.
This evoked in the mind of one Torah participant a different but related ritual: the laying of hands on the heads of our children sitting around the Friday night Shabbat dinner table each week, offering them the priestly blessing that Aaron later offers to the people of Israel: Y’varechecha Adonai v’yish’m’recha, Ya’er Adonai panav eilecha vichuneka, Yisa Adonai panav eilecha, v’yaseim l’cha shalom (May Adonai bless you and protect You; May the radiance of Adonai shine upon you and show you grace; May the radiance of Adonai lift towards you and grant you peace).
As meaningful as the words are, it was to another component of the ritual that the attentions of our Torah study participants were drawn: touch. The laying of hands on the heads of our children is powerful, they said, with a calming effect on our children and ourselves, centering our minds and our hearts as we make way for an important moment—the transmission of love, respect, and honor from parents to children, in many ways reenacting the ancient, intergenerational moment of transmitting leadership, honor, and love from one generation to another.
Extrapolating out, participants suggested touch can often have this capacity, forging connections, and offering signals of respect and love between people in passing moments: a handshake, a hug, even a fistbump reminding us of our connections as humans.
The pandemic of the last couple of years has complicated these moments, but sometimes the heart’s subtle yearning for what it’s been missing can signal its importance to us.
