Naso: Conformity as Holiness

by Rabbi Marianne Novak '19

When I was an offsite student at Maharat, I was privileged to be able to come into the Beit Midrash once a month. Ever a creature of habit, I flew the very same 5:55 am flight on American Airlines, sat in the same seat (12C), and stayed overnight in the same place. This routine ensured that I wouldn’t have to make constant decisions—especially when I was leaving my house at 4:00 am—and could focus solely on my learning and my relationships at yeshiva. After four years of this practice, my routine was not only comforting but became something sacred.

For any leyner, or Torah reader, Naso is challenging as it contains the most verses of any single read parsha. Thankfully, the end of the reading, describing the gifts and sacrifices for the dedication of the Mishkan given by each of the heads of the 12 tribes, repeats the same words and trope each time. What is the text trying to tell us with this repetition beyond just making it easier for the Torah Reader?  

The first of these offerings was brought by Nachshon Ben Aminadav of the tribe of Yehuda. As Yehuda has emerged as not only the leader of the other tribes as we learned in last week’s parsha of Bamidbar, but also the tribe with the largest population, it makes sense that his gift would be the first. The second gift, however, is given by what would be seen at this time in Jewish history as somewhat of a minor tribe, Yissoschar. Netanel Ben Tzuar brings the very same offering as Nachshon: 

Making his offering, one silver bowl weighing 130 shekels and one silver basin of 70 shekels, 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 (Bamidbar 7: 18-23).

Our sages ask why the tribe of Yissoschar would come second in this pageant. What about this tribe and its leader would merit it to present after the mighty tribe of Yehuda?

Bamidbar Rabbah (13:15) notices that, for Yissoschar, the verse states hikriv, or presented his own, personal offering:

It is because the tribe of Reuven came and appealed. He said: it is enough that Yehuda (the younger son of Yaakov, Reuven being first born) preceded me, just as he did on the journeys. I will present the next offering, in accordance with birth order.

But Yissoschar was next. The Midrash continues: 

Why was it so? Because he [Netanel] was privileged to counsel the princes, he merited that understanding was granted to his tribe, as it is stated: from the children of Yissoschar, possessors of understanding of the times (I Chronicles 12:33).

What special knowledge did Netanel, the Prince of Yissoschar, possess at this very moment? He could have very well given a completely different offering, perhaps even outdoing the tribe of Yehudah’s gift in scope, expense, and size. But in repeating exactly the gift of Nachshon, Netanel is able to show the beauty and holiness that can come from conformity. By giving the same things, Netanel sets a structure for the rest of the tribes so that they don’t have to spend time deciding what exactly to give and how much of each gift. The structure allows for greater intention and focus beyond the material aspects of the offerings to their purpose—to glorify and sanctify God’s presence in the Mishkan, the Tabernacle. 

Modern society many times frowns upon sameness. Often, for something to be considered valuable  and meaningful, it must go beyond norms and be out of the box. For example, many educators are proponents of the Montessori philosophy of education, which encourages young learners to guide their own educational journey. For some children, this is the best way to learn. For some, however, this way of unstructured learning creates anxiety and upends the learning process. A friend of mine moved her children from a Montessori school to a traditional Catholic elementary school because the structure and oftentimes rote learning provided a better base of discovery and challenge than one that was self-directed. 

When we approach our own religious practice, especially tefillah (prayer), many look for ways to enhance their devotion and increase innovation. While keeping our relationship with God fresh is arguably never a bad thing, the pressure to make every encounter an awesome spiritual experience can set one up for spiritual failure and at minimum can become utterly exhausting. I have a close friend who, as the rabbi of a Reform synagogue, is challenged by her congregants to make every prayer service a singular spiritual experience. At many points, she exclaims, “Can’t we just daven mincha?”

Netanel Ben Tzuar reminds us that there is beauty and elegance in  routine. It need not be the “same old, same old” but a solid and reliable platform to make meaning without having to harness the same mental energy to achieve that important goal.

When I find myself clinging to routine, as I did with my travels to Maharat, I try to remember that those habits can always give way to something beautiful and unique and have the potential to become truly holy.

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Rabbi Marianne is Rabbi and Judaic Studies faculty at Akiba-Schechter Jewish Day School in the Hyde Park neighborhood of Chicago. She is also part of the Jewish Learning Collab and a rabbinic team member of A Mitzvah to Eat, and is a frequent writer for The Times of Israel.