Two Minute Torah Podcast

Naso 5772 by Rabbi Elyse Winick

Rav Kook, the first chief rabbi of Israel, is well known for his contributions to Jewish life and lore.  One of his most compelling and perplexing statements was the phrase, “Hehadash yitkadesh v’hakadosh yithadash,” “The new will be sanctified and the sacred will be renewed.” It’s a marvelous statement about our power to create holiness in the world, but it does perch us on that slippery slope between innovation rooted in the past and creating something wholly new and other.

As Parashat Naso comes to an end, we have a striking scene in which 12 chieftains, representing the 12 tribes, appear before Moshe to present gifts for the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary in the desert.

Each one proffers the identical gift, and the list of gifts repeats for each of 12 times – One silver bowl weighing 130 shekels and one silver basin of 70 shekels by the sanctuary weight, both filled with choice flour with oil mixed in, for a meal offering; one gold ladle of 10 shekels, filled with incense; one bull of the herd, one ram, and one lamb in its first year, for a burnt offering; one goat for a sin offering; and for his sacrifice of well-being:  two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, and five yearling lambs.  Why not simply say that each of the twelve brought the same offering and list it once? 

Easier to miss in the text is that there is a collective gift from the tribal chiefs which precedes the individual acknowledgments – six carts capable of bearing a heavy load and two oxen to pull each cart, for a total of 12 oxen.  This is a remarkable gift.  It is presented by the chiefs to lighten the Levites load, so that they will not need to shoulder the Mishkan physically as they transport it through the desert.  What makes the gift remarkable is the fact that in the previous Torah portion, the Levites are specifically commanded to do just that – bear the Mishkan on their shoulders to move it from place to place.

This gift appears to contradict a direct commandment.  Ramban believes the answer to be very simple.  The tribal chiefs thought it impossible for the Levites to bear this massive weight  on the journey and took what appeared to be the logical step of providing carts for porterage, just as other royal dwellings were moved from place to place.

Unlike the strange fire of Nadav and Avihu, a violation of God’s instruction which leads to their untimely deaths, here no punishment is forthcoming.  In fact, when the carts appear, God commands Moshe to accept them – Kah me’itam , take it from them!  In an instant, what would appear to be a violation of God’s instruction becomes a sacred obligation.  Hehadash yitkadesh – the new is sanctified.

So perhaps, the detailed and repetitive listing of the rest of the gifts is a reward of sorts for the collective gift offered first, the one that seems to be inspired by the overflowing generosity of their hearts, a gift no one else would have thought of, one which others may even have thought forbidden.

Rav Kook’s dictum inspires breathless awe, but also fear.  How are we to know when the ways in which we transform the Divine word add holiness to the world, rather than cause it to be consumed in flames?  Perhaps it is the ache to make the world a better place, to lighten someone’s load, that should serve as our guide.  Is our quest for change for the sake of change?  Does it serve some selfish need?  Or does it have transformative power to uplift the downtrodden or exponentially increase goodness in the world?  Change should be thoughtful and considered, not random or reckless.  At times it may be the very best way to let the Divine light shine through.