Parashat Naso, Equal to the Task
Rabbi Ron Shulman
I open with a rare and brief personal note. This week I celebrate the 27th anniversary of my rabbinic ordination and, today, my 54th birthday. Simply, I realize that I have spent half of my years serving the Jewish people as a congregational rabbi.
My rabbinic career is a privilege for which I am deeply grateful. For me, the equal measure of my personal and professional years is a brief and singular milestone. I share it with you because it helps me to illustrate a core Jewish value for all of our lives.
All of us know the various and real joys and challenges of the work we do, of the interests we pursue, and of our responsibilities, obligations, or opportunities. If you speak with someone for longer than a few minutes, and talk about something more than pleasantries, your conversation will begin to reveal their pressures and involvements.
We all have them. For though each of us knows the particular challenges that confront our loved ones, or the specific work and obligations that overwhelm us, or our unique memories and personal experiences, or our private emotions and fears; for though only each of us truly knows the content of our days, all of us are engaged equally in life’s constant flow.
Equality in being human, and for living in society, is a foundational principle of Jewish tradition. We see this ideal expressed in the identical ritual offerings each Israelite tribe brings to the dedication of the wilderness altar in the Mishkan. Twelve tribes over twelve days bring exactly the same gifts: a silver bowl and a silver basin both filled with flour, grain, and oil, and specified animals. The only change we read over twelve paragraphs is the name of each tribe and its chief.
This remains our practice. The rituals of Jewish tradition must honor every moment with equal sanctity. Individual in style, reflecting every celebrant’s personality, and uniquely personal in meaning for those celebrating, every person must have equal access to the rituals of Judaism.
Every person called to the Torah recites the same b’rakhot. Every naming, aufruf, birthday, and honor is marked by the same appropriate “Mi Sh’berakh” words of prayer. Every bride’s ring is unadorned by precious stones so that no bride feel less worthy or cherished by her loving groom than any other. Everyone returns to the earth in a simple wooden casket.
Equality is a religious principle of Judaism. Our belief in One God is an ethical monotheism that promotes the equality of all people created in the Divine image. Lore imagines the same about Adam, from whom all people descend in Biblical mythology. No individual can claim superior ancestry.
When bad things happen to good people, some of us explain God’s disengagement as a demonstration of equality’s primacy. Equality is the Divine vision for humanity which God must respect or you and I will be left to conclude that some people are more worthy and deserving in life than others.
Even here at Chizuk Amuno, we’ve recently changed the way we assess our membership dues to create a standard that welcomes every member equally at the different ages and stages of their lives.
As I indicated, this ideal of equality is expressed in the identical ritual offerings each tribe brings to the dedication of the Israelite wilderness altar. We read twelve repetitive paragraphs this morning. The only changes we read are the names of each tribe and its chief.
The tribe of Judah has the privilege of being first. Their representative is Nahshon ben Aminadab. He is not described like every other tribe’s chief or prince as a nasi, a tribal leader.
Tradition teaches that Nahshon ben Aminadab is chosen first because of his courage at the Sea of Reeds. According to the midrash as Moses raised his staff to part the sea’s waters, and everyone stood around anxious and afraid, Nahshon plunged into the water. His bold act encouraged all of Israel to follow his example and to walk through the water’s walls toward their freedom.
Here in this dedication ceremony Nahshon ben Aminadab’s leadership is honored. But there is no reference to his title. Using their ethical instincts, our sages suggest a reason. Due to his heroism Nahshon ben Aminadab might be exalted and celebrated over the other tribal chiefs. Ritual and community demand equality. Deleting Nahshon ben Aminadab’s title protects the others’ honor. All twelve tribal leaders are equal one to another, each one of them equal to the task.
But that doesn’t mean they, or we, approach a similar task with the same feeling. The power of our equality is the different meanings it allows. It is in the variety of our responses and preferences, in the variety of our personalities and points of view that we learn about one another, react to each other, and create the healthy interpersonal connections of our social and communal lives.
Our world still hasn’t figured this out. After half a lifetime teaching Torah and Jewish values, I am as convinced as ever that who we are as Jews and what we represent and believe must take deeper root in the world.
Ours remains a culture where too many people think the rules don’t apply to them. They imagine their profit, their interest, their opinion, their achievement, their worry, their need, or even their very existence is more important – or has no relationship to, or impact on, anyone else’s. Sadly, they’re wrong.
Voltaire’s insight resonates. “Men are equal; it is not birth but virtue that makes the difference.”
The day we stop being focused on ourselves is the day our lives start to matter. The moment we discover we are entitled to nothing is the moment we begin to appreciate what we have. On that day, and at that moment, we become capable of real relationships - deep and genuine relationships with others, in community, and with God.
An individual’s life is worthy only if every individual’s life is worthy. This value lives at the heart of everything Judaism teaches.
That’s why we talk about our lives and pursuits with each other, and share about our joys and our pains in community together. That’s why we mark personal milestones in public settings, enacting similar rituals in different ways.
That’s also why helping people find personal meaning in Jewish celebration is so important to me, and why I will continue to believe that we are each, as we must be, equal to the task.
© 2010 Rabbi Ronald J. Shulman
