Tetzave: Oversharing One’s Emotions

“And the dividing curtain shall separate for you between the Holy and the Holy of Holies…” Inside the Mishkan, Hashem instructed the placing of a partition between the Kodesh and the Kodesh Hakedoshim. The sefarim tell us that each part of the Mishkan symbolizes a part of the body, and the Kodesh Hakedoshim, the innermost sanctum, represents the mind. There is no holier space within a person than the deep thoughts concealed within the recesses of their mind. It is in this sanctified area that we are instructed to place a dividing curtain. We are advised to create a separation between our inner lives and our outer lives. 

In our 21st century world, a world where we can spread ideas, messages and images with the click of a finger, we grapple daily with the construction of this curtain. We want to preserve that which is precious by keeping quiet, yet we also desire to share, inspire and publicize in order to impact. As women in particular, Hashem instilled in us a natural desire for approval and validation which sometimes compels us to overconnect. This article will explore the topic of oversharing from a Torah perspective. 

This week’s parsha lists the clothing of the High Priest. The High Priest was unique in that he was the only member of the Jewish People who was allowed to enter the Kodesh Hakedoshim, a climactic moment experienced once a year on Yom Kippur. The holiness of this moment is enabled by its exclusivity: the seclusion of the High Priest and Hashem. To everyone else, it is off-limits. If we try to imagine the High Priest somehow livestreaming his avoda in the Kodesh Hakedoshim, we would feel uncomfortable. Something so holy simply isn’t shared. If we view ourselves as a ‘mamlechet kohanim’ as a true ‘kingdom of priests,’ it emerges that there are parts of our avodat Hashem which would become cheapened through sharing. Developing a sense of privacy crowns us with a sense of dignity and importance. As the beautiful lyrics of the song writes, ‘bilvavi mishkan evne’, in my heart I will build a sanctuary. Our inner world is our sanctuary, too precious to expose. 

There is a Mishna in Avot ‘In a place where there are no men, strive to be a man.’ This is commonly understood to mean that when something needs to change in society, we should step up and be the pioneer. However, the Arvei Nachal interprets it to mean ‘in a place where no-one can see you, strive to be a man.’ Unlike the common interpretation which suggests an attention-drawing act of zealotry, the Arvei Nachal tells us to reach for greatness when no-one is present. The only guaranteed private place we own is our mind. Inside our mind, we can strive for perfect righteousness, and we don’t have to let anyone in. 

The Midrash in Bereishit Rabba tells us seven things which are hidden from mankind and one such thing is ‘mah belibo shel chaveiro’ – what those around us are thinking. Hashem set up the world that while we hear those around us talk, we cannot hear their thoughts. This is to enable us to keep our curtains protecting our inner sanctum, our deeply private and precious thoughts, to ourselves. While it sometimes feels like there is no place without people, even when sharing acts of inspiration, we should try and keep just one little bit to ourselves. Our thoughts and actions rise in value when we keep them private. It makes it more real. We show Hashem and ourselves that our inner life is so rich that we don’t need the acknowledgement or validation of others to place a checkbox on what we have done. 

The concept of tzniut, of protecting our privacy, is emphasized in multiple aspects of Torah life. Hashem speaks to Moshe face-to-face, but inside the Ohel Moed, inside a tent. The tent was the container for the holiness of the prophecy, an experience that can’t just be done out in the open. We cover our Sifrei Torah, and keep them behind curtains. We cover our eyes at sundown on Shabbat, because the holiness of Shabbat is overpowering. We place a hand over our eyes as we declare the Oneness of Hashem in Shema, because the spirituality of the moment is too potent.

The Ba’al Shem Tov teaches that we are where our mind is. We can reach the peak of greatness in our minds. While our actions may be tainted by the limitations of being human, our minds can soar beyond the angels. To a place of untainted desire to serve Hashem fully, with perfect faith, love and awe. The pasuk in Shmuel writes ‘The candle of Hashem had not yet extinguished and Shmuel was lying down in the sanctuary where the Aron was.’ The Malbim questions how Shmuel was allowed to lie down in such a holy place and he answers by dividing up the pasuk differently. ‘The candle of Hashem had not yet extinguished in the sanctuary where the Aron was’ and ‘Shmuel was lying down.’ Shmuel was not physically there, he was asleep elsewhere. Rather, the positioning of the pasuk represents where Shmuel’s thoughts were: between the Aron and the Menorah. His mind was amongst the holy keilim so it was as if he was sleeping there. Our mind is an incredibly powerful tool, with our mind we can travel anywhere, dream expansively and become anyone we aspire to be. 

Fascinatingly, when we explore the sources on Akeidat Yitzchak, we find reference to the ashes of Yitzchak, which would imply that Avraham actually sacrificed him. The truth is that Avraham did not touch Yitzchak. Although Avraham begged the angel to allow him to make an imprint on Yitzchak, to draw a speck of blood from him in order to tangibly fulfil the commandment, the angel stopped him. The angel explained that Hashem did not want Avraham to touch Yitzchak in any way. Hashem desired only Avraham’s machshava: his submission to Hashem’s word and desire to carry out his will. Avraham did sacrifice Yitzchak – with his mind. When we realise how much power is contained within our thoughts and dwelling inside our minds, we will carefully safeguard them, and only share with the right people and the right time. 

The concept of tzniut, of protecting our privacy, is emphasized in multiple aspects of Torah life. Hashem speaks to Moshe face-to-face, but inside the Ohel Moed, inside a tent. The tent was the container for the holiness of the prophecy, an experience that can’t just be done out in the open. We cover our Sifrei Torah, and keep them behind curtains. We cover our eyes at sundown on Shabbat, because the holiness of Shabbat is overpowering. We place a hand over our eyes as we declare the Oneness of Hashem in Shema, because the spirituality of the moment is too potent. The value of our avoda is so loaded and treasured and like a precious diamond bracelet, it behooves us to keep it inside a box where it won’t be displayed freely to every passerby. 

The moon does not generate its own light, it merely reflects that of the sun. We too don’t need to blaze like the sun, publicising all our great acts in public. We reveal our true greatness when we, as women who represent the very essence of the moon, decide to be reflectors of Hashem’s awesome light.