Repeatedly Different

INSIGHTS: The Doorway of Choice
The voice did not slacken as it traveled through space, as a finite voice would. But it stopped short at the doorway of choice

And it came to pass on the day that Moses had concluded setting up the Sanctuary, and had anointed it and sanctified it. The nessi’im of Israel, the heads of their clans... brought their offerings before G-d: six covered wagons and twelve oxen: a wagon for each two of the nessi’im, and for each one, an ox...

And the nessi’im brought [other] offerings for the dedication of the altar... And G-d said to Moses: One nassi a day, one nassi a day, shall they bring their offerings...

The one who offered his offering on the first day was Nachshon the son of Aminadav, of the tribe of Judah. And his offering was: One silver dish, weighing 130 shekels; one silver bowl of 70 shekels... both of them filled with fine flour mingled with oil. One spoon of ten shekels of gold filled with incense. One young bullock, one ram, one yearling lamb, for a burnt offering. One kid for a sin offering. And the following for peace offerings: two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, five yearling lambs. This was the offering of Nachshon the son of Aminadav.

On the second day offered Netanel the son of Tzu’ar, of the tribe of Issachar. And his offering was: One silver dish, weighing 130 shekels. One silver bowl of 70 shekels...

On the first of Nissan in the year 2449 (1312 bce), nine months after the revelation at Mount Sinai and nearly a year after the Exodus, the Sanctuary built by the command of G-d to serve as a “Tent of Meeting” between Him and His people was dedicated. On that and the following eleven days, the leaders of the twelve tribes of Israel each brought a series of gifts and offerings as their respective tribes’ participation in the inauguration of the Sanctuary.

In describing these gifts, the Torah does a surprising thing: although each tribe brought exactly the same items, it recounts each tribe’s offering separately, repeating the detailed list twelve times. The Torah is often so “mincing” with words that it expresses many complex laws with a single added letter; yet here it expends seventy-two “extra” verses, making the section of Nasso (Numbers 4:21-7:89) the longest in the Torah.

Also requiring explanation is the very notion of “tribal gifts” at the Sanctuary’s dedication, which seems out of character with the nature of the Sanctuary. The Sanctuary was to serve as the point of Israel’s common bond with the Almighty, with Aaron and his sons serving as the collective representatives of the people in their service of G-d. Indeed, Moses hesitated to accept the offerings of the nessi’im, since he felt that a joint contribution, offered on behalf of the people as a whole, would be more appropriate.^[1] It was only when G-d Himself intervened, commanding Moses to accept these gifts, that the Sanctuary was dedicated with the individual offerings of the twelve tribal heads of Israel.

a) Six wagons, each with a pair of oxen, for the purpose of transporting the Sanctuary. The twelve nessi’im jointly presented this offering on the day that the Sanctuary was inaugurated. Each tribe contributed one ox and joined with another tribe to bring one of the six wagons.

b) Each tribe brought a series of offerings, including gold and silver vessels, incense, fine flour and livestock—some thirty-five items in all. Each tribe’s offering was identical, from the weight of the silver in each plate to the age of each lamb. Yet each was brought to the Sanctuary on a different day, beginning with the tribe of Judah on the 1st of Nissan and concluding with the tribe of Naphtali on the 12th of that month.

Why two sets of gifts? Why was the first set brought collectively on the first day of Nissan, and the second by each individual tribe on a different day? Why, indeed, did G-d insist that each tribe be individually recognized? An examination of these two groups of offerings shows that while Moses’ vision of a single, common offering from all of Israel was rejected in favor of the “individualized” offerings of nessi’im, in fact, the nature of these offerings only underscored the unity of Israel.

Israel is G-d’s “one nation on earth”^[2]: comprised of individual human beings, each with his and her distinct mindset, character, temperament, talents and aptitudes, yet united by a common essence and calling.

There are two aspects to this vision of an assemblage of individuals as a single entity: interdependence, and inherent synonymy.

Because we share a common goal, and because we have a crucial role to play in the achievement of this goal, millions of diverse individuals complement and fulfill one another to create a single entity. In other words, the differences themselves are what create the unity. Since the entity “Israel” and what it stands for would be incomplete were even a single Jew to be missing from the equation, no Jew is fully Jewish without his relationship with every other Jew.

This is what the nessi’im demonstrated with their gift of “six covered wagons and twelve oxen, a wagon for each two of the nessi’im, and for each one, an ox.” True, we are comprised of various “tribes,” each distinguished by its particular character. True, we each bring our unique contribution to the fulfillment of Israel’s mission: Judah the might and majesty of a lion, Naphtali the swiftness of a gazelle, Dan the ingenuity of a snake; Issachar produces scholars, Zevulun merchants, Asher olive-growers, Gad warriors, Menasseh shepherds and Simon schoolteachers.^[3] Yet we recognize that while we each have been blessed with something our fellow “tribes” do not have, it is they who provide us with what we lack. Half a wagon is useless—we must combine our gifts in order to have something with which to transport the “Tent of Meeting” in our journey through the spiritual desert that is our material world. And while we may perhaps be able to produce a complete “ox” by our own efforts, it takes two oxen to pull our common wagon.

The second vision of unity posits that underneath it all, the many and diverse vocations and personalities that make up the Jewish nation are all expressions of a singular essence. It is not only that all these lives combine to form a collective endeavor (as with the oxen and wagons), but that they are intrinsically one. The nation of Israel is a single soul shining through a many-faceted prism: while each facet unleashes its particular collage of colors in the ray it refracts, the light they all convey is one and the same.

This is the idea expressed by the second group of offerings brought by the nessi’im. Each tribe brought the very same items; yet the Torah, most uncharacteristically, repeats the list twelve times, regarding each tribe’s gift as an entirely original contribution. The explanation for this can be found in the Midrash’s commentary on these verses, which expounds on the allegorical significance of these gifts. Each and every detail of these thirty-five items—the type of vessel, its material, its weight, the species of the animal offerings, their number, their age, etc.—symbolized something. But to each tribe they symbolized something else. To Judah, the tribe of kings and lawgivers, they represented different aspects of their role as sovereigns and leaders; to Issachar, it all pertained to scholarship and Torah study; and so on.^[4]

In other words, the Torah is emphasizing that each tribe brought its own experience and perspective to its offering. The very same act was differently colored by the individual nature of each of its actors: each was expressing the same eternal truth via his own personality and lifestyle.

With their first offering of six wagons and twelve oxen, the nessi’im expressed how our differences, when applied in concert and harmony, themselves create a unified people.

The second group of offerings expressed a more profound unity: that even as we each pursue our divinely ordained role, each living his life on his “day” in his way, we are all doing the same thing. For in origin and essence we are one, and our individual lives and accomplishments are the many expressions of a single quest.

The first aspect of our unity concerns only the end of our mission as a nation, not its means. The ultimate purpose of it all is a singular, unified existence, but as long as we have not visibly attained this goal, we are separate and apart. The second aspect, however, relates to the intrinsic oneness we possess even before our individual paths have converged upon the same destination. It demonstrates how the very process of life, as we each apply the talents and abilities that have been granted us, constitutes a single endeavor: to make our lives a “Tent of Meeting,” a place to house the all-pervading truth of G-d.

Based on the Rebbe’s talks on Nissan 12, 5740 (March 29, 1980) and Nissan 5, 5743 (March 19 1983)^[5]

And when Moses would enter the Sanctuary to speak with [G-d], he would hear the voice speaking to him from above the cover of the Ark of Testimony, from between the two kruvim; and it spoke to him [only].

One might think that this (the fact that only Moses heard the voice of G-d) was because the voice was low. So the verse stresses that it was “the voice”'---the same voice that spoke to him at Sinai. But when it reached the doorway it stopped, and did not extend outside of the Sanctuary.

A basic tenet of the Jewish faith is that man has been granted the freedom to choose between good and evil, between adherence to his divinely ordained mission in life and rebellion against, or even denial of, his Creator. As Maimonides writes, “Were G-d to decree that a person be righteous or wicked, of if there were to exist something in the essence of a person's nature which would compel him toward a specific path, a specific conviction, a specific character trait or a specific deed...how could G d command us through the prophets ‘do this’ and ‘do not do this,’ ‘improve your ways’ and ‘do not follow your wickedness’...? What place would the entire Torah have? And by what measure of justice would Gd punish the wicked and reward the righteous...?”

This is the deeper significance of the divine voice’s “short stop” at the doorway of the Sanctuary. At Sinai, the words “I Am G-d your G-d” resounded throughout the universe, permeating every creature and creation[6]. At that moment, there was no possibility of doubt in G-d’s reality or of nonconformity to His will[7]. But then the world fell silent, and the voice retreated to hover about the “Ark of Testimony” that contains G-d’s Torah and confine itself to the four walls of the Sanctuary that houses it.

The volume was not lowered---the voice is no less infinite and omnipotent than it was at Sinai. One who enters the Sanctuary hears a voice that penetrates and permeates all, a voice that knows no bounds or equivocations. But one can choose to remain outside of the domain of Torah, to deny himself the knowledge and the way of life in which G-d makes Himself heard. One can choose to remain outside, in the field of G-d’s self-imposed silence. It is this choice that creates the challenge of life, making our every moral victory a true and significant achievement.

Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber

[2]. From the Shabbat afternoon prayers. According to the Talmud (Berachot 6a), while our tefillin contain the passage that attests to G-d’s oneness—“Hear O Israel, G-d is our G-d, G-d is one”—G-d’s “tefillin” are inscribed with the words, “Who are like Your people Israel, one nation on earth.”

[3]. See ch. 49 of Genesis and Rashi’s commentary, ibid.

[6] Midrash Rabba, Shmot 5:9-10; see An Absorbant World, WIR vol. III no. 49

[7] Indeed, for this reason our sages have said that we were, in effect, ‘forced’ to accept the Torah: what other option was there in face of a divine revelation of such magnitude? It is only when we reiterated our commitment under conditions of divine self-concealment that this potential ‘contest’ on our covenant with G-d was refuted (Talmud, Shabbat 88a, as per Torah Ohr, Esther 98d; see The Thousand Year Difference, WIR vol. III no. 28).