Tetzaveh

 בס״ד

Tetzaveh

It precedes our consecration,

Fresh-pressed oil for the light,

The olive’s glowing essence,

To illuminate our sight.

Our vestments made of woven cloth,

Of box-like knit and such,

A velvet texture we can feel,

Anoints our sense of touch.

Tiny shiny bells of gold,

Rimonim all around,

Ting-ting-ting with every move,

And cleanse our sense of sound.

Bulls and rams, unleavened loaves,

We do not eat in haste,

Savoring them in love and awe,

We refine our sense of taste.

And last of all the incense,

The ketores we grind well,

In whose aroma, like a mikvah,

We immerse our sense of smell.

At last we will be ready,

After all this has occurred,

To serve with all that’s gifted us,

In every sense of the word.