"You shall make vestments of sanctity for Aharon your brother, for glory and splendor." (28:2)

Why do we put on our finest clothes for Shabbos? One reason is to give honor to this special day. But there's another reason.

Another question.

When the kohanim performed the service of the Beis Hamikdash they had to wear special garments, and without these garments the service was invalid. Why didn't the levi'im have to wear special clothes as well?

The service of the kohen is internal. It takes place in private away from the eyes of the world. Anything internal requires covering. The soul, which is internal, requires covering when it comes to this world with the body. Spiritual envoys - angels - require a body when they enter this earthly dimension.

The work of a Levi is external, in public. The levi'im used to play musical instruments and sing in the Beis Hamikdash. Since their work was external it didn't require special garments.

Shabbos, too, is the dimension of the internal in this world. Shabbos shows us the inside of Creation, the center and the purpose of life. Since it reveals that which is internal, it needs covering - and thus we dress ourselves in special clothes on this special day.

"You shall make vestments of sanctity for Aharon your brother, for glory and splendor." (28:2)

When an astronaut emerges from his spacecraft, he wears a large, rather bulbous suit. The purpose of the suit is both simple and vital. Without the suit, his blood would boil in the vacuum of space in a few seconds. The suit is vital to the existence of the man inside it, but no one would ever mistake the suit for being part of the person inside it. The distinction is clear.

Your body is really a space-suit. It allows your soul to exist in this world. That is its purpose. Without this "space-suit for the soul" we could not survive in the world at all.

Prior to the sin of Adam and Chava, there was no shame, and therefore no need for clothing. They perceived clearly that the neshama, the soul, is the essence of a person, and the body is only its "space-suit." After their sin, however, this distinction became blurred, and it was necessary to show that the body is of importance only insofar as it supports the neshama. Since the body is visible, man is easily misled into attributing to it primary importance. Clothes, by covering the body, stress that the inner spiritual essence, the neshama, which is hidden from view, is of essential significance.

The Midrash (Tanchuma Bamidbar 3) relates that when the Mishkan was erected, Hashem said that tznius (concealment, modesty) is extremely fitting here. The Mishkan itself was covered like a bride, with a veil in front and a train behind. The essence of the Mishkan is the Shechina, the Divine Presence, that dwells there. If one sees only the glorious structure, attributing intrinsic sanctity to the materials themselves while forgetting the spiritual essence, the Mishkan becomes something akin to an idol.

Similarly, the Torah mandates an extra degree of tznius (modesty) for the Jewish woman. In secular cultures, women are de-valued, sometimes even reduced to physical objects. Emphasis is placed on what meets the eye - the space-suit. The Jewish woman, however, dresses so as to stress the essence of her inner being. "All the glory of the daughter of the King is inward."

"This is what you shall offer upon the Altar: Two sheep within their first year every day (lit. to the day), continually." (29:38)

There are times in life when everything seems to be bathed in the rosy glow of morning sun. Life is full of promise and optimism. There are times, too, when the future seems cloudy and obscure, when darkness and the uncertainty loom ominously.

When describing the mitzvah of the daily offering, the Torah employs an unusual grammatical construction. Instead of saying BaYom - in the day - it chooses to say LaYom - to the day. From this anomaly, we learn a law: The slaughtering of the daily offering was to be done in direct sunlight. The morning offering was to be slaughtered in the western part of the courtyard so the eastern wall should not block the rays of the rising sun. And the afternoon offering was to be slaughtered in the eastern part of the courtyard so the western wall should not obstruct the rays of the setting sun.

Nowadays, we no longer have the closeness to Hashem that the service of the Beis Hamikdash brought us. However, in its place, we have the service of the heart - prayer.

Whichever light is shining into our lives, whether the optimistic rays of the rising sun or the faltering evening twilight, we must take that light and illuminate our hearts to serve Hashem.

"Pure pressed oil for illumination" (27:20)

The light of the Menorah represents the light of Torah. The oil for the Menorah had to be pressed gently, one olive at a time, until it yielded its oil. It could not be crushed, because this would leave in it particles of olive and sediment. And even though these could be filtered out afterwards, the oil for the Menorah had to be pure from the start, not "fixed up" later.

We can understand this as a paradigm for the teaching of Torah itself: We must transmit the Torah pure and unadulterated, not dressed up to pander to what is "politically correct." The Torah needs no re-vamping or re-decorating to make it more palatable.

Hype is like sediment in oil.

Even though we may think we can filter it out afterwards, the Torah, like the oil of the Menorah, must be pure from the start.

The second of the "Four Parshios" that we read in the months of Adar and Nissan is Parshas Zachor. Zachor means "Remember." The Torah tells us "Remember what Amalek did to you on the way, when you came out of Egypt." On Shabbos Zachor we fulfill this mitzvah by reading this section from the Torah.

Parshas Zachor is always read the week before Purim, because on Purim we celebrate our deliverance from Amalek's most notorious descendent - Haman.

The Haftorah of Parshas Zachor depicts another encounter with the descendants of Amalek: King Shaul was commanded to annihilate Amalek, but he failed to kill their king, Agag. While in captivity, Agag, the last of the Amaleki, managed to sire a child. It was from this child that Haman was descended.

Sources

• The Height of Fashion - Rabbi Shaul Miller, zatzal, heard from Rabbi Reuven Subar
• The Inside Story - Admor Rabbi Avraham from Sokachov
• Earth-Suit - Rabbi Zev Leff, "Outlooks and Insights"
• P.C. - based on Rashi