What is
Preferable: External Order and Stability or Inner Warmth and Care?
I grew
up in a highly functioning, law-abiding country where all the external
frameworks operated like clockwork. The streets and sidewalks were clean,
green, and beautifully maintained; the public systems – from libraries to
healthcare – were well-funded and reliable. In fact, I recently noticed that
according to U.S.
News & World Report, Denmark
ranks #1 in the world for quality of life, based on education, healthcare,
political transparency, economic security, and general societal well-being.
Growing up in such an efficient and stable environment should have brought a
deep sense of contentment. Yet, I never felt truly fulfilled in what might be called
‘The Dreamland of Denmark.’
Despite
its polished exterior and near-perfect punctuality – where trains always arrive
precisely as announced – something essential was missing. I find myself far
more at home in a land of constant challenge and unpredictable rhythms. Even
during times of conflict and uncertainty, I choose to live in Israel – a place
bursting with soul. While Israel may lack the external order of Denmark, it
overflows with purpose, connection, and vibrancy. Yes, I may have to stoop to
pick up stray candy wrappers on the sidewalk – a sight unimaginable in suburban
Denmark – but I do so with joy, knowing I walk streets rich with meaning,
history, and heart. A society may be perfectly orderly on the outside yet lacking
in inner meaning and mission. In Israel, it’s not about appearances – it’s
about essence. The laughter of children, the warmth of strangers, and the
shared sense of mission here speak to something far deeper than surface-level
perfection ever could.
Why Does
Parashat Naso Mention the Suspected Adulteress, the Nazarite, and the Thief?
Parashat
Naso seems to continue the national themes
introduced in Parashat Bamidbar: the census of the tribes, the
inauguration of the Mishkan, and the offerings of the tribal leaders. While
reading HaRav Aharon Lichtenstein’s article, The Embedded Message, on Parashat
Naso, I was struck by his observation that even within the structured and
clearly defined national order of the wilderness journey – with its census,
banners, and division of Levitical roles – the Torah does not lose sight of the
moral and spiritual development of the individual. Interwoven in this narrative
are seemingly personal and unrelated topics – the thief who confesses and
repays (Bamidbar 5:5-10), the suspected adulteress (5:11-31), and the
Nazir who abstains from wine and seeks higher holiness (6:1-21). Why are these
inserted here, interrupting the flow of collective preparation for the
sanctification of the Mishkan and entry into Eretz Yisrael?
Precisely
because the Torah is teaching us that a nation’s spiritual destiny is only as
strong as its individuals. In the midst of grand national missions – the
revelation of the Shechinah in the Mishkan, and the historical march into the
Land – the Torah zooms in on personal struggles: betrayal, longing, inner
restraint, and restitution. The message is clear. The sanctity of the Mishkan
depends not only on the proper placement of tribes or ritual service, but on
the moral integrity of each individual. Without a foundation of personal
fidelity, integrity, and spiritual yearning, the collective cannot sustain its
calling.
The
Torah thus ensures that no soul is forgotten. The lonely convert, the wayward
woman, the aspiring ascetic – each has a place in the unfolding destiny of Am
Yisrael. A society striving for holiness must care not only for its national
structure but also for its moral fiber, woven one soul at a time.
What is
the Ideal Relationship between Outer Details and Inner Refinement?
The
ultimate goal is a radiant soul in a healthy body on both an individual and a national
dimension. We don’t have to sell ourselves short, we can aspire toward the
highest spiritual content encased in the most organized external parameters. For
any community to thrive, we need law and order. Role divisions need to be
clearly defined, and all community members must carry out their
responsibilities and know who to turn to for questions and directions. Parashat
Naso highlights the meticulous arrangements needed for the Israelites’
journey on their way to settling in the land. It provides details about
preparations for entering the Land of Israel, particularly focusing on the
organization of the camp and the Levites’ responsibilities in carrying the holy
vessels. When it comes to the G-d given mitzvot, even physical structures
and external order become spiritual and infused with inner meaning and mission.
The many details and even repetitions of the sacrifices of the princes of each
tribe become infused with meaning, as they are intended not only to provide the
external particulars but to teach us an inner lesson about character
development.
Parashat
Naso is the longest parasha in the entire Chumash
because it repeats word for word the offering of each of the tribes instead of
just paraphrasing that all the tribes offered the exact same such and such.
This demonstrates that although the princes brought the same precise offering,
none of them copied their friend. Each had his own personal relationship with
his offering. Because of each tribe’s original intention, excitement, and
awareness, the Torah described each of their offerings in its own section. Another
reason for the repetition of the tribal sacrifices word by word is due to Hashem’s
great pleasure with their identical offering of unity that rectified the
sibling jealousy of Kain and Hevel. When external details are infused with
inner refinement, then even otherwise tedious repetition becomes meaningful.
How Do
We Carry the Sanctuary Within Our Unique Spiritual Mission?
The
census in Parashat Naso, which continues the census begun in Parashat
Bamidbar, moreover alludes to the inner spiritual intention within the
exterior positions and roles. The designated roles of the families within the
tribe of Levi in carrying and assembling the Mishkan hint at how each family
had a unique portion of the holy structure to bear upon their shoulders, not
just physically, but also spiritually.
במדבר פרק ד פסוק מז
מִבֶּן
שְׁלֹשִׁים שָׁנָה וָמַעְלָה וְעַד בֶּן חֲמִשִּׁים שָׁנָה כֹּל הַבָּא לַעֲבֹד
עֲבֹדַת עֲבֹדָה וַעֲבֹדַת מַשָּׂא בְּאֹהֶל מוֹעֵד:
“From thirty years old and up to fifty years
old, all who come to serve the service of service and the service of carrying
in the Tent of Meeting” (Bamidbar 4:47).
While Ha’amek Davar emphasizes the transition from supernatural guidance
in the wilderness to a more hidden Divine providence in the Land, Parashat
Naso moreover suggests that the service of carrying the Mishkan was not
merely a physical duty – it was a spiritual apprenticeship. This desert service
trained each individual to become a vessel for the Shechinah – a sacred
preparation for dwelling with Divine presence in Eretz Yisrael. Each
person had their role, their burden, and their sacred responsibility, just as
each soul in Eretz Yisrael today has a unique spiritual mission to carry.
The Sefat
Emet explains that just as each angel has a unique root and mission, so too
each member of Am Yisrael longed to know their soul’s root and place of
rectification. Though we cannot see this with our physical eyes, through the Torah,
each person can find their spiritual origin. Some rare individuals may ascend
entirely through their deeds, but even those who are not on that level can leap
beyond their natural rung through longing and will alone. “Each man by his camp
and under his banner” represents this dual path of fixed service and spiritual
aspiration. In this way, every individual’s unique role in the camp mirrors
their deeper mission in the Divine structure of the nation, especially as it
manifests in the holiness of Eretz Yisrael (Sefat Emet, Bamidbar, year
5639).
Carrying Our Sacred Responsibility in the Land
The Levites
carried the Mishkan in the desert. Today, we carry the sanctity of the Land in
our own way. Living in Eretz Yisrael is not always easy – there are
physical challenges, bureaucratic obstacles, and moments of loneliness. But
just as each Levi had to bear his assigned portion – whether it was the heavy
planks, the shimmering curtains, or the sacred vessels – each of us carries our
piece of the collective inheritance.
Living
in Bat Ayin, we can perceive how every soul brings a different panel, a
different curtain, a different vessel to the collective sanctuary of our
people. Each student who comes to learn Torah, plant a garden, raise children,
or simply breathe in the holiness of the Land is carrying their part of the
Mishkan – their avodat hakodesh. Each of us, with our unique
contribution and role in the community, reflects our deeper spiritual mission,
aligned with our soul’s root and place of rectification within the Divine
structure of the nation.
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