Humility and Impact (Tetzaveh)

This week’s Torah portion, Tetzaveh, is the only one after Moshe Rabbeinu’s introduction that does not include his name. That absence is not an accident. Tradition has noticed, pointed to it, and derived meaning from it. What does it mean when a leader disappears from the text, when the one we rely on so deeply is suddenly absent?

The presence of Moshe permeates the Torah. It is called “Torat Moshe,” the Torah of Moses, after all. His presence is so central that even a temporary absence, like when he ascends Mount Sinai to receive the Ten Commandments, is unbearable to the people. And now, his name is missing from this portion? It’s meant to shake us. It should.

But Moshe is not absent. The parashah begins with the word “v’atah” —“and you. (Ex. 27:20)” God is speaking to Moshe, but his name is left out. He is present, but he is not named. Why? Because leadership is not about name recognition. It is about impact. This portion, Tezaveh, is about Aaron’s role, the high priesthood, and the sacred garments. Moshe steps back. And in his stepping back, he shows us what true leadership looks like.

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, z”l, taught that Moshe and Aaron represent a shift from the sibling rivalries that plagued Genesis (“Leadership Means Making Space,” 5771). Cain and Abel, Isaac and Ishmael, Jacob and Esau, Joseph and his brothers—competition defined their relationships. But Moshe and Aaron? They model something different. Moshe, called to lead, never hungers for power. When God first assigns him the task, he resists: “Send someone else. (Ex. 4:13)” God reassures him—Aaron is already on his way. And Aaron, older than Moshe, watches his younger brother rise as leader and accepts his own role with grace.

There is no rivalry here. There is mutual respect. Moshe is the prophet, the lawgiver. Aaron is the high priest, the spiritual guide. They lead together. And in this moment, Moshe makes space. He does not need to be named to be present.

What a lesson in humility. What a lesson in leadership.

True leadership is not about being in the limelight. It is not about power for power’s sake. It is about service. The greatest leaders create space for others to lead. President Abraham Lincoln, as Rabbi Sacks noted, filled his cabinet with former political challengers, as noted by historian Doris Kearns Goodwin in her 2005 book, “Team of Rivals.” He understood that leadership is not about ego—it is about impact. The smaller the ego, the greater the leader.

Friends, we are living through a moment in history where the world does not seem to reward kindness. Where humility is often mistaken for weakness. And yet, we must lead. We must influence others to do good, to remain human, to fight for justice, to stand for what is right. Not for our own glory, but because it is what must be done.

Moshe’s name is missing, but his presence is everywhere. May we, too, do good in ways that may never be named. May we build, support, uplift—not for recognition, but because it is the right thing to do.

And may we always remember: in a place where people are losing their humanity, we must choose to be human. We must, and we can.

Let’s take our places in history, as Moshe did. As Aaron did. As our ancestors did. Not for ourselves, but for the world that needs us.