While we often preach simplicity in speech and dress, the Kohen Gadol was anything but simple in the clothes he wore. No less than eight elaborate garments of varying colors and fabrics adorned him as he prayed for our forgiveness in the Kodesh Kodashim on Yom Kippur.
The commentator Akeida says that each garment was meant to convey a lofty moral message. Let's talk about one of those garments, the robe, or me'il. It was made of turquoise wool. On its hem were pomegranate-shaped tassels of different colors, as well as little golden bells with clappers.
The robe's color was meant to remind us of (our blue) Heaven; the rimonim - filled with many seeds - symbolized the Jewish people, filled with much potential for greatness. The bells were to suggest that every sound we make "here" is heard "there", and so we should beware of speaking lashon hara.
But I suggest that the bells had yet another sublime purpose. Many people must have assembled at the Beit HaMikdash on the holiest day of the year. No doubt, they were engaged in all manner of speech as they stood together waiting for the Kohen Gadol to appear. As the Kohen Gadol approached, and they heard the gentle ringing of the bells, they could stop all unnecessary chatter and prepare for the sanctity of the day. By the time the Kohen saw them, they were no doubt silent and serene as angels.
Thus, the bells gave those who were gathered time to ready themselves and helped to preserve the kavod habriyot of the people, the dignity they deserved and which is the right of all human beings. Which is what I want to emphasize here: the need to treat others with dignity, empathy and respect, in ways both big and small.
When you lean on your horn and disturb everyone around you; when you speak - or daven - too loudly; when you look away from someone to avoid eye contact with them; when you keep people at a simcha waiting for an absurd amount of time - even if you are the chatan or the kallah or the mohel - you are infringing upon the kavod habriyot of others.
But when you turn away from watching someone in an embarrassing situation, when you fill the washing cup for the next person in line, when you graciously laugh at an (unfunny) joke your friend tells you, when you help someone even before they ask for help - you are engaging in the art of kavod habriyot, a sacred principle for which even certain aspects of the mitzvot (e.g., muktzah) are set aside in order to protect.
Those little bells remind us: "Who is honorable? He who engages in kavod habriyot." (Avot 4:1) Think about it.
The commentator Akeida says that each garment was meant to convey a lofty moral message. Let's talk about one of those garments, the robe, or me'il. It was made of turquoise wool. On its hem were pomegranate-shaped tassels of different colors, as well as little golden bells with clappers.
The robe's color was meant to remind us of (our blue) Heaven; the rimonim - filled with many seeds - symbolized the Jewish people, filled with much potential for greatness. The bells were to suggest that every sound we make "here" is heard "there", and so we should beware of speaking lashon hara.
But I suggest that the bells had yet another sublime purpose. Many people must have assembled at the Beit HaMikdash on the holiest day of the year. No doubt, they were engaged in all manner of speech as they stood together waiting for the Kohen Gadol to appear. As the Kohen Gadol approached, and they heard the gentle ringing of the bells, they could stop all unnecessary chatter and prepare for the sanctity of the day. By the time the Kohen saw them, they were no doubt silent and serene as angels.
Thus, the bells gave those who were gathered time to ready themselves and helped to preserve the kavod habriyot of the people, the dignity they deserved and which is the right of all human beings. Which is what I want to emphasize here: the need to treat others with dignity, empathy and respect, in ways both big and small.
When you lean on your horn and disturb everyone around you; when you speak - or daven - too loudly; when you look away from someone to avoid eye contact with them; when you keep people at a simcha waiting for an absurd amount of time - even if you are the chatan or the kallah or the mohel - you are infringing upon the kavod habriyot of others.
But when you turn away from watching someone in an embarrassing situation, when you fill the washing cup for the next person in line, when you graciously laugh at an (unfunny) joke your friend tells you, when you help someone even before they ask for help - you are engaging in the art of kavod habriyot, a sacred principle for which even certain aspects of the mitzvot (e.g., muktzah) are set aside in order to protect.
Those little bells remind us: "Who is honorable? He who engages in kavod habriyot." (Avot 4:1) Think about it.