Nataniella Benson with her family. (Photo courtesy of Merav Benson)
As a middle child, I often get hand-me-downs. When I was younger, I didn’t really care that I received yearly batches of clothes from my sister Elisabeth, simply because I didn’t know any other way to receive clothes. Of course, there was the occasional item bought especially for me, but I usually wore what my sister had worn a year or two before.
As my bat mitzvah approached, I noticed that my Torah portion, Tetzaveh, goes into tremendous detail describing the Kohen Gadol’s (High Priest’s) clothing and jewelry. What really caught my eye, though, was that after those elaborate descriptions, the Torah shares something very interesting, particularly to me as a middle child:
וּבִגְדֵ֤י הַקֹּ֙דֶשׁ֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר לְאַהֲרֹ֔ן יִהְי֥וּ לְבָנָ֖יו אַחֲרָ֑יו לְמׇשְׁחָ֣ה בָהֶ֔ם וּלְמַלֵּא־בָ֖ם אֶת־יָדָֽם
The holy vestments of Aaron shall pass on to his sons after him, for them to be anointed and
ordained in. (Exodus 29:29)
As a “little” sister I thought to myself—why would someone as important as the Kohen Gadol be getting hand-me-downs? Isn’t each new Kohen Gadol important enough to get a freshly tailored set of new clothes?
When I looked at the commentary for this verse, I found that Rashi says that in most cases, where the word למשחה appears, it means “to anoint”; however, in this case it means “for dignity.”
I find this interesting because when you get hand-me-downs from somebody, you might feel as if you are getting their leftovers, which doesn’t feel so good. However, in the case of the kohanim, Rashi says that getting hand-me-downs is itself a demonstration of honor, thereby increasing the value of the hand-me-down to the recipient.
Interestingly, the accompanying Haftarah from that Shabbat tells a contrasting story, this time of an interrupted hand-me-down.
וַיִּסֹּ֥ב שְׁמוּאֵ֖ל לָלֶ֑כֶת וַיַּחֲזֵ֥ק בִּכְנַף־מְעִיל֖וֹ וַיִּקָּרַֽע
As Samuel turned to leave, Saul seized the corner of his robe, and it tore. (Shmuel 15:27)
This signifies that G-d was removing Saul’s kingship, and instead passing it down to someone worthier than him: King David.
While the beautiful clothes of the Kohen Gadol signify the honorable handing down from one Kohen to the next, the tearing of the robe represents the opposite—the breaking of that hand-me-down chain.
What I came to understand while preparing for my bat mitzvah, and in the year since, was that receiving a hand-me-down doesn’t demean the recipient. Instead, it actually increases the value of what is received. Something given to you by someone else will already have their memories and experiences built in, making it more precious and special as you add to it.
Now, as I celebrate Jewish holidays with my close and extended family, my favorite parts are the traditions we carry from year to year. In my family’s Pesach seder, when we sing “Chad Gadya,” each relative around the table plays a part. My grandma, grandpa, and aunt are the highlight:
my grandma is always the stick, my grandpa is always the water, and my aunt is always the slaughterer. Each year, I look forward to the next Seder in great anticipation just to hear “Chad Gadya” crack me up like the first time I heard it with them. It is my favorite hand-me-down.
I often think back to my Torah portion, Tetzaveh, meaning “command.” It shares the same root as the word “mitzvah,” which means commandment. Indeed, the term bat mitzvah literally means “daughter of the commandments,” which means that the commandments are handed down from preceding generations. This, to me, hits at the core of what it means to be a part of the Jewish community.
We are a community of people using priceless hand-me-downs.
Nataniella Benson lives in Lakeview. She had her bat mitzvah at Anshe Sholom B’nai Israel Congregation. .
