by Rabbi Avi Billet
Anyone listening to Naso’s Torah reading can’t help but notice that 72 verses primarily seem as if they are repetitive. Aside from a couple of minor changes in the depicted Korbanos in #s 1, 2 and #11, they are mostly all the same, both words and melody.
And it begs a very simple question. Why all the repetition? Why not just say what each Nasi brought as a korban – say that ONCE – and then say “Each Nasi brought this same offering”?
Rabbi Moshe Shternbuch explained, that when the Torah describes each Korban, introducing it with the word קרבנו, the Torah is telling us that each one brought HIS OWN Korban, irrespective of knowledge of what each Nasi brought before him. As it turned out, each set or group of offerings was the same. Which while requiring an explanation is not exactly shocking.
L’havdil, when I was working for the National Jewish Outreach Program, I taught a series of lunchtime classes at some equivalent of a Federation facility in Manhattan. Not all of the participants in the class were Jewish – but they wanted to understand a little about the organization for which they worked. In one of the classes I happened to mention that the numerical value of Chai is 18. Two of the ladies, who worked in the accounting department basically said OOOOOHHH!!!
“What is it?” I asked them
They said, “We get so many donations for $18! Until now, we never understood why!”
Sometimes people think alike, even if they don’t consult with one another. And so, Rav Shternbuch explains, each Nasi happened to think alike. But they weren’t copying one another. In listing each set of korbanos, the Torah might have presented a different result from each Nasi had they actually been different. The fact is that each one came to his contribution on his own, without consulting others. That they turned out the same is coincidental.
So what was the thought process?
The Midrash equates the Par ben Bakar (bull) to Avraham, who served ben Bakar to the 3 angels. The ram to Yitzchak, who was replaced with a ram at the top of Mt Moriah, and the lamb to Yaakov, who became wealthy with lambs.
The Baal Haturim notes that פר איל כבש. בגימטריא אברהם ויצחק ויעקב. – the Hebrew names of those three animals has a numerical value (gematria) equal to Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov
The S’ir Izim – could be an atonement for the sale of Yosef, or it could also be a reference to Yaakov who brought S’ir izim to his mother to feed his father.
The Midrash explains that the two oxen which are the Peace offerings, the Korban Shlamim, parallel Moshe and Aharon, who were Shleimim (complete). As for the five rams, five Atudim, and the five Kvasim (sheep), the numbers five represent the Five Books of the Torah, the Five Dibros on Luchos I, and the Five Dibros on Luchos II. Daat Zekenim suggests the two Bakar parallels the two tablets.
Looking at these Midrashim, it is easy to say all this is conjecture and rather silly. Meaning, how do they know what the נשיאים were thinking?
More than likely it doesn’t matter whether they tapped into what the N’siim were actually thinking. If we accept the premise that the reason for all the repetition of the sacrificial offerings is because each offering was not exactly the same – each offering was brought with different intentions, different thought processes, different kavanos, different people in mind, and different ways of coming to those numbers and volumes, then we can understand why each set of korbanos had to be mentioned separately.
This is something we know intuitively and intimately. We note this every day in our davening, and we know this because of how we go about our davening.
Every day in our davening we say ברוך אתה ה' א-לקינו וא-לקי אבותינו א-לקי אברהם א-לקי יצחק וא-לקי יעקב. Why don’t we say א-לקי אברהם יצחק ויעקב? The answer is that each one had his own special relationship with God. This is why we note the separation – even though it’s all the same God. Because there are different ways of getting close to Him.
And as far as how we go about our davening, we all do it differently as well. Some of us understand very well what we’re saying. Some of us pay a special attention to the words we say. Some of us don’t understand Hebrew very well. Some of us can read, and put devotion into what we’re saying, even as the words don’t mean much. Some of us don’t read Hebrew at all, and make our way through the translation. Some of us don’t have any conversations with others during davening. Some of us have light conversation – sometimes לתועלת – for a purpose, and sometimes we forget. There are people who talk more than their share during prayer services. One person used to quip to me (even though I never found it funny), “I come to shul to talk!”
But anyone who comes to shul and makes one’s way through the siddur does have a similar technical experience as others. Same words. Same word meanings. But in reality, every two people have VERY different experiences.
We could say, “accept our prayers.” But perhaps it would be more meaningful if we said to God, “Accept Yanky’s prayer, and Shmuly’s prayer, and Sarah’s prayer and Russy’s prayer.” Because we all know that the experience of two people – even in the exact same circumstance – is never exactly the same.
It shouldn’t be a goal to make everyone the same. We humans are not meant to be robots. We are meant to have our own Avodas Hashem experience, and to make it the best it can be.
And it is totally reasonable to suggest that the environment needs to be the same for everyone. This is why we heavily emphasize the need for a respectful atmosphere for Tefillah. For far less than more talking. For respect for those around us – not harping about whose seat is whose, not davening too loud, or ruining the experience for someone else over some trivial matter.
There is a program called Ninja Warrior. I’m not an expert in it nor do I follow it. But I know it is a competition for which people test their strength and agility, and they train to be able to get through some kind of obstacle course that tests those areas of human physical achievement. And each person competes against everyone else, while also competing against a clock. What’s unique is that all the competitors cheer on the others, because everyone does the obstacle course alone (except for the occasional actual race), they all know how hard it is, and if you slip, you fall into a pool of water or on some net and you’re out.
Those who get through the SAME CHALLENGES, each approach it with their own strategy. Some focus on their upper body strength, some their speed, the lighter ones use their weight to their advantage.
It’s all the same. But it’s definitely not all the same.
And that, l’havdil back to our topic, is the beauty of our Jewish experiences. We learn the same Torah. We sit in the same Shul. We read the same siddur. We hear the same sermon! And everyone takes away something else, something which speaks to their own life experience and their own heart.
This is the blessing of being a collective, made up of very different people.
And that was the experience of the N’siim and what they modeled for us then and what we continue to live now. They didn’t plan to do everything the same. It turned out looking the same. But each, after being interviewed regarding what they brought and why they brought it, would have a very different explanation for how they got to where they got, and what they had hoped to achieve.
This is the strength of the Jewish people. May we be blessed to admire the different approaches that others have to getting closer to God. May we be blessed to be respectful of others approaches and tolerant of others approaches.
Someone who has a “talking in shul problem” can see it as a personal challenge to overcome. At the same time, one can also have a little introspection and ask oneself, “If you believe God is here, how can you talk in shul?”
Those of us who are blessed to be there need to continue to model this ideal, and need to be tolerant of those who are not there yet, but are hopefully always looking to improve their own personal Tefillah experience. No, this is not suggesting an “allowance” for talking during Davening by any means, but it means to recognize that some people haven’t gotten to that point yet.
Everyone, however, should consider asking, at what point do we buy into the idea that the atmosphere that we all create, must be one where everyone has a chance to serve GOD in their own way.
That was what the N’siim had. And that is what we should all want for ourselves, and for those we are blessed to pray alongside.
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