The Torah recounts an interesting event. As Moshe reviews the laws of Pesach and the details of the Paschal lamb offering, a group approaches worried they will miss out on this beautiful opportunity because of their impure state. “We are ritually unclean [because of contact] with a dead person; [but] why should we be excluded so as not to bring the offering of the Lord in its appointed time, with all the children of Israel? (Bamidbar 9:6-7). Moshe doesn’t immediately know the answer to this dilemma and instructs the people to wait until he obtains an answer from God. “Moses said to them, stand here (imdu), and I will hear what the Lord instructs concerning you (Bamidbar 9:8).” Immediately, God instructs Moshe regarding the laws of Pesach Sheyni (the second Passover), a special make-up date for those who were either too far from Jerusalem or were ritually impure and therefore unable to offer the Korban Pesach on Pesach itself.

Why the need for the word, “Imdu, stand here?” Why not tell the people “chaku, wait”, or just simply tell the people, you will get back to them as soon as God gives you proper instructions?

The Baal Shem Tov (Rav Yisroel Baal Shem Tov 1700-1760) was known to have prayed an exceptionally long Shmona Esrei (Amida prayer). For many it was difficult to wait for the Baal Shem Tov to finish, and so, they would leave the Beis Midrash to make Kiddush (on Shabbos and Yom Tov), eat something, and would then return to the Beis Midrash for the Chazzan’s repetition. However, the Baal Shem Tov’s closest disciples would always remain with their beloved Rebbe. It once happened that the students felt faint and decided they would leave the Beis Midrash for just a few minutes, eat and drink a bit, and then return for the conclusion of davening (thinking they had much time until the Baal Shem Tov finished). Much to their surprise, when they returned, they found the Baal Shem Tov sitting and waiting as he had already finished davening. The students were baffled, “Rebbe, every day your Shmona Esrei is long and intense, and today it was much shorter. Is everything alright? Did something occur?” The Baal Shem Tov said, allow me to explain with a mashal (parable). There was a man who saw a beautiful bird perched atop a tall tree. The man wanted more than anything to see the bird up close and see its unique features and characteristics. However, he was short, and the tree was tall. So, he gathered a group of his closest friends, and each man stood on the shoulders of the other until the first man was hoisted to the top of the tree and able to look upon this beautiful and unique creature. The Baal Shem Tov paused, Imagine, if the man on the bottom of this human chain decided he was hungry and went home to eat something. The entire group would come tumbling down to the ground. The Baal Shem Tov continued, when I daven, I am able to reach the highest levels of the celestial sphere because I am surrounded by all of you – I stand on your shoulders. Your presence supports and hoists me up to places I could not reach on my own. My merits only take me so far, but together we are able to stand before God, Himself. And so this morning, when all of you left the Beis Midrash, I lost my footing and tumbled downward.

The Baal Shem Tov continued, “This is the meaning of the verse of this week’s Parsha, Imdu V’Eshmiah Mah Yitzaveh Hashem Lachem, Stand here, and I will hear what God commands you.” Moshe was telling the people, if you stand by me, then I will be able to hear God’s voice. If I can stand on your shoulders, then I will be able to reach great heights – but if you leave, if I am alone, I don’t know if God will converse with me.

We must recognize that we can only be truly great in the company of others. We need each other to actualize as individuals and as a nation. We must build bonds of friendship and unity with one another because this is the key to our personal success. There are things we can achieve alone, but there is so much more we can do together. Alone we can accomplish good things; together, we can soar to the greatest heights.

“Then Moses said to Hobab the son of Reuel the Midianite, Moses’s father-in-law, We are traveling to the place about which the Lord said, I will give it to you. Come with us and we will be good to you, for the Lord has spoken of good fortune for Israel. He said to him, I won’t go, for I will go to my land and my birthplace. He said, Please don’t leave us, for because you are familiar with our encampments in the desert and you will be our eyes (Bamidbar 10:29-31).” 

The most high-profile convert of all time, Yisro, had decided to go home to Midyan. Although the Jewish people were just a few days from entering the Land of Israel (this occurred before the sin of the spies), Yisro felt a need to return home. But why?   After all he had left behind to join our people as we made this historic journey, why turn back now? Furthermore, how are we to understand Moshe’s counter-argument? What did Moshe mean when he said to his father-in-law, “you can’t leave for you are our eyes?”

Rav Yosef Chaim ben Eliyahu (Ben Ish Chai, 1835-1909) provides a magnificent insight. Yisro was a giver. Yisro was the kind of person who wanted to enhance the lives of those around him. Even before he found God, he was the high priest of Midyan, and in that position saw to the spiritual and emotional needs of his constituents. Yisro ultimately leaves that life on a quest for true spirituality and becomes a member of the Jewish people, and it is here that he finds himself surrounded by exceptional people.  His son-in-law, Moshe, the prophet of prophets, Aharon, the Kohen Gadol, Elazar, Yehoshua, and the Seventy Elders were present at every moment to inspire the masses. Yisro felt blessed to live within a cocoon of holiness but felt despondent that he had nothing to contribute. The nation didn’t need him; they had the most wonderful spiritual role models and teachers. And so, Yisro approaches Moshe. “I will go to my land and my birthplace. I can have an impact back in Midyan. You see, my precious son-in-law, Midyan is a spiritual desert. I will return and open the hearts and souls of the residents with all the beautiful Torah and life-lessons I have learned. I want to be a giver and not a taker. I have much to contribute, but my abilities are not needed within the Jewish nation. Let me go back to inspire and spread the word of God.” Moshe responds, “Please don’t leave us…. for you are our eyes. My beloved father-in-law, you inspire us every day through your mere presence. We were a slave nation for 210 years, and when we heard the message of salvation, we listened and acted. We had nothing, and so, when God offered us the opportunity to become something, we grabbed it. For us, it wasn’t much of a decision. Barbaric treatment and death in Egypt or Torah, our own land, and freedom to decide our destiny. But you, Yisro, you had everything. You had a beautiful family, fame, wealth, and an identity. Yet, you gave it all up for the sake of becoming something greater and holier. You sacrificed everything to find God, join the Jewish people, and find deeper meaning and fulfillment in life. You inspire and teach us every day. You are the embodiment of the important lesson in life – if you truly desire greatness, you must be ready to sacrifice. You can’t leave, “for you are our eyes,” you teach us how to properly view life, how to be properly see ourselves.”

Yisro wanted to return, for he desperately pined to be a giver. Moshe begged him to stay, for Yisro’s mere presence was an ongoing inspiration. It is from this simple exchange that we emerge with three powerful lessons:

Lesson #1 – Be a giver not a taker.  The greatest gift one can receive in life is not something he gets – but rather, the ability to give. All too often, we approach life situations thinking, “what’s in this for me? What can I get out of my involvement? How will this benefit me?” The Jew asks one simple question – how can I give? How can I contribute? What can I do to help build the individuals and the world around me? What’s in it for me? The opportunity to roll up my sleeves and give. What do I get out of it? The profound and life-affirming satisfaction that I am making a difference. If we nurture a constant desire to give, we will constantly seek out new avenues of growth and fulfillment.

Lesson #2 – There is no growth without sacrifice.  In greater society, sacrifice is a bad word. We are told that we should be able to have what we want, when we want, how we want. But this is not true. Sacrifice is part of the very fabric of the human condition. Whenever you choose one thing, you are sacrificing another. We must learn the art of sacrifice. We each have things which hold us back. For some, it may be a negative relationship; for others, it may be a particular pleasure or behavior. If we truly want to grow, we must identify the things which are holding us back and find the courage to “sacrifice” them. Yisro left Midyan because he felt that his existence there was an anchor tethering him to a life of mediocrity. We all have our anchors which weigh us down and keep us from moving forward. We must learn to sacrifice these items to forge forward.

Lesson #3 – Don’t always look for comfort.  We often gravitate to situations with which we feel at home or comfortable. We may tend to socialize and associate only with people who look like us, practice like us, and believe like us. Sometimes, your ability to make a dramatic contribution comes when you are willing to leave your comfort zone. You don’t always have to be with people who mirror you in every way. At times, putting yourself in the uncomfortable position allows for maximum growth and impact.

Moshe was correct; Yisro is one of our most important teachers and role-models. Yisro’s legacy is not what he said. Yisro is not remembered for a particular sermon or lecture. He didn’t leave us any meaningful statements, mantras or aphorisms. Yisro teaches us how to live through modeling a life-style of growth and achievement. This simple man has and continues to illuminate the eyes of our nation. (Reprinted from 5779)

It is in this week’s Parsha that we are introduced to an important personality – the Nazir. He is a man who takes a vow to abstain from drinking wine, cutting his hair and coming in contact with the dead in order to attain a higher level of life sanctity. The Nazir is a person who has lost his way, become too entrenched in the material world and is looking to hit the reset button. His behavior is extreme, but it is designed to allow him to ultimately find the middle path of synergistic partnership between body and soul.  

Yet, sometimes the best laid plans go awry.

“If someone in his presence dies unexpectedly or suddenly, and causes the Nazirite head to become defiled, he shall shave off [the hair of] his head on the day of his purification; on the seventh day, he shall shave it off. And on the eighth day, he shall bring two turtledoves or two young pigeons to the Kohen, at the entrance to the Tent of Meeting. The Kohen shall prepare one for a sin offering and one for a burnt offering and atone on his behalf for sinning by coming into contact with the dead, and he shall sanctify his head on that day. He shall consecrate to the Lord the period of his abstinence and bring a lamb in its first year as a guilt offering; the previous days shall be canceled because his naziriteship has been defiled.” (Bamidbar 6:9-12)

The Nazir tries his best, but an unavoidable circumstance puts a corpse in his proximity. The days observed fall by the wayside and the Nazir must restart the fulfillment of his vow. The Beis Yisroel (Rabbi Yisroel Alter of Gur, 1895-1977) explains that the Torah is conveying to us a deeper message. The Nazir represents a person looking for more out of life. He realizes that he is not living the life he should be living, he is not becoming the person he is capable of being. So, he decides to make a dramatic life change. At times, we must bring life to a grinding halt in an effort to recalibrate and plot a new course for the future.

The Nazir found the strength and adopted a new approach (for a limited amount of time). But then he failed. He finds himself in proximity to a corpse and everything ends; he must start all over again. Here he was trying to better himself and his vow ends in failure. He is tamei (impure) and back to square one. But it is here, in these details that God teaches us how to deal with failure. “V’kidash es rosho ba’yom ha’hu (and he shall sanctify his head on that day).”On the day he finishes his purification process, he gets back up and starts all over again. There is no time for lamenting, there is only time to dust off and start again. As King Solomon wrote in Proverbs (24:16), “For a righteous man can fall seven times and rise, but the wicked shall stumble upon evil.” Everyone stumbles and falls, the righteous get back up, the wicked stay down.

There is one more piece. The above-mentioned section ends, “… the previous days shall fall away (be cancelled).” In order to have a meaningful second chance and new beginning, one must let go of the feelings of pain and failure of the past. In the aftermath of failure, we often think to ourselves, “I wasted so much time and resources on this initiative, idea, mission which never materialized.” A person could feel demoralized in the wake of failure and that prolonged feeling could prevent a person from trying again and believing that things can be different in the future. But, we must let go in order to move on.

The message of the Nazir is a message for us all. We all fail and we all fall; this is an inevitable reality of the human condition. What must be our response to life’s failures? Get back up and try again. Clean our wounds, let go of the past and make another go at it. We may not identify with the restrictions of the Nazir, rather his quest for holiness and elevation should inspire us all.

“The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to Aaron and say to him: ‘When you light the lamps, the seven lamps shall cast their light toward the face of the menorah.’” (Bamidbar 8:1-2)

It is difficult to feel left out. Aharon saw the beautiful offerings of the Nesiim, Tribal Princes and was disappointed that neither he nor his tribe were included. It is in this moment of sadness that God tells Aharon, “Do not despair; your lot is greater than theirs for I have given you (and your descendants) the mitzvah to kindle the Menorah.” (Rashi 8:2). God was trying to soothe Aharon’s sadness – but why the Menorah? Why did this responsibility mend his broken heart? After all, Aharon as High Priest had many unique responsibilities. He brought the incense (kitores), he sacrificed the communal offerings and he was the only man allowed into the Holy of Holies (on Yom Kippur). What was the unique message and meaning of the Menorah that lifted Aharon’s spirits?

The Midrash (Midrash Rabbah 15:8) provides a beautiful insight:

“There was a great king who often travelled to the small hamlets of his kingdom to meet his subjects. One of these journeys brought him to the town of his closest childhood friend. The king sent a message to his friend requesting if he could join him in his home for a meal. The friend, a common farmer was excited for the great honor of hosting the king and began the frenetic preparations. The much-anticipated day arrived, and the simple farmer had set the table with his finest dishes, and flatware. There were main dishes, side dishes and delicious deserts. The farmer looked at the table and was eager to greet the king. The trumpets sounded and the royal coach arrived. As the door of the carriage opened, the trumpets blasted again, and a small army of attendants and servants entered the home of the farmer. The servants were dressed in the finest clothing and were carrying golden torches to light the way for their beloved king. Upon seeing all the pomp and wealth the farmer became embarrassed of his meager possessions. The table that a few minutes earlier had looked so beautiful and regal now looked so simple and quaint. The farmer began to feel inadequate and unprepared. ‘How can I serve the king on my simple dishes? How can I feed him my “commoner” food?’ The farmer began to clear the table, quickly putting everything away before the king entered the home. Just as he finished the king entered. ‘Didn’t you remember I was to join you for a meal?’ The king asked as he looked at the empty table. ‘Of course, your majesty, but as I saw the great display of wealth, I thought it would be more fitting if we would dine on your dishes and have your cooks prepare the meal.’ ‘My dear friend, the king remarked, I am here because I want to dine with you, in your home, at your table with your food. I knew that whatever you would prepare would be with love and attention. While travelling to your home I began to feel closer to you because I knew how much effort you were expending to prepare for our short time together. We will not use my dishes, nor will my cooks prepare my favorite dishes, tonight I choose to dine with you, eat your food and reside in your home.’

And so, it was with God.  God created the luminaries, He forged the sun, the moon and stars and yet, He asked Aharon (and his descendants) to prepare the light, to kindle the Menorah and to illuminate His home.”

The message is powerful. Rachmana Liba Ba’Ey (God desires heart). Aharon, felt left out because he did not get to participate in the grand dedication. God explains, “I don’t need grandeur, just sincerity and consistency. Aharon, when you light the Menorah each and every day, I know that you will do it with a heart filled with love and dedication. I know you will kindle each lamp with the fire of sincerity and purity. I do not need your light; I want your light. I have the sun, the moon, and the stars, but when you kindle those little flames, they illuminate the entire celestial sphere. Your gift of light is the most precious gift I can receive.”

The gifts of the tribal princes were beautiful and precious, but they are not representative of what God wants and expects of us on a daily basis. God wants us to kindle our Menorah. Do something which produces light in the world, even if it is just a small little flame. God does not demand spiritually heroic activity from us, He just asks for activity. But there is something else. Make sure to produce light each and every day. The Menorah was kindled daily. This is the message of consistency. The tribal princes brought their offerings once; God wants us to create consistent light.

The Midrashic king only visited his childhood friend once. Our King looks to be with us each and every day. The words which comforted Aharon can provide us with the strength to move forward in life. We each have moments when we are like the Tribal Princes. Moments, when we do spiritually dramatic things, moments of sacrifice and selflessness and spiritual heroism. But these are just moments. More important is to be like Aharon, kindle our Menorah of personal growth every day. We do not have to create a raging fire of accomplishment, just a small spark of goodness and holiness. We do not have to illuminate the entire world, just our own souls. We do not have to be perfect, but we must ascend and kindle each and every day.

“Then Moses said to Hobab the son of Reuel the Midianite, Moses’s father-in-law, ‘We are traveling to the place about which the Lord said, I will give it to you. Come with us and we will be good to you, for the Lord has spoken of good fortune for Israel.’ He said to him, ‘I won’t go, for I will go to my land and my birthplace.’ He said, ‘Please don’t leave us, for because you are familiar with our encampments in the desert and you will be our eyes.’’’ (Bamidbar 10:29-31

The most high-profile convert of all time, Yisro, had decided to go home to Midyan. Although the Jewish people were just a few days from entering the Land of Israel (this occurred before the sin of the spies), Yisro felt a need to return home. Why? After all he had left behind to join our people on this historic journey, why turn back now? Furthermore, how are we to understand Moshe’s counter-argument “you can’t leave for you are our eyes?”

Rav Yosef Chaim ben Eliyahu (Ben Ish Chai, 1835-1909) provides a magnificent insight. Yisro was a giver. Yisro was the kind of person who wanted to enhance the lives of those around him. Even before he found God, he was the high priest of Midyan and in that position saw to the spiritual and emotional needs of his constituents. Yisro ultimately left that life on a quest for true spirituality and became a member of the Jewish people. And it is here that he found himself surrounded by exceptional people. His son-in-law Moshe was the prophet of prophets, Aharon the Kohen Gadol, Elazar, Yehoshua and the Seventy Elders were present at every moment to inspire the masses. Yisro felt blessed to live within a cocoon of holiness but felt despondent that he had nothing to contribute. The nation didn’t need him; they had the most wonderful spiritual role models and teachers. And so Yisro approached Moshe. “I will go to my land and my birthplace. I can have an impact back in Midyan. You see my precious son-in-law, Midyan is a spiritual desert. I will return and open the hearts and souls of the residents with all the beautiful Torah and life-lessons I have learned. I want to be giver and not a taker. I have much to contribute but my abilities are not needed within the Jewish nation. Let me go back to inspire and spread the word of God.” Moshe responded, “Please don’t leave us… for you are our eyes. My beloved father-in-law, you inspire us every day through your mere presence. We were a slave nation for 210 years and when we heard the message of salvation we listened and acted. We had nothing and so when God offered us the opportunity to become something, we grabbed it. For us, it wasn’t much of a decision. Barbaric treatment and death in Egypt, or Torah, our own land and freedom to decide our destiny. But you, Yisro, had everything. You had a beautiful family, fame, wealth and an identity. Yet, you gave it all up for the sake of becoming something greater and holier. You sacrificed everything to find God, join the Jewish people and find deeper meaning and fulfillment in life. You inspire and teach us every day. You are the embodiment of the important lesson in life: if you truly desire greatness you must be ready to sacrifice. You can’t leave for you are our eyes, you teach us how to properly view life, how to be properly see ourselves.”

Yisro wanted to return for he desperately pined to be a giver. Moshe begged him to stay for Yisro’s mere presence was an ongoing inspiration.

It is from this simple exchange that we emerge with two powerful lessons:

Lesson #1 – Be a giver not a taker. The greatest gift one can receive in life is not something he gets, but rather, the ability to give. All too often we approach life situations thinking “What’s in this for me? What can I get out of my involvement? How will this benefit me?” The Jew asks one simple question: How can I give? How can I contribute? What can I do to help build the individuals and world around me? What’s in it for me? The opportunity to roll up my sleeves and give. What do I get out of it? The profound and life-affirming satisfaction that I am making a difference. If we nurture a constant desire to give, we will constantly seek out new avenues of growth and fulfilment.

Lesson #2 – There is no growth without sacrifice. In greater society, sacrifice is a bad word. We are told that we should be able to have what we want, when we want, how we want. But this is not true. Sacrifice is part of the very fabric of the human condition. Whenever we choose one thing, we are sacrificing another. We must learn the art of sacrifice. We each have things which hold us back. For some it may be a negative relationship, for others it may be a particular pleasure or behavior. Yisro left Midyan because he felt that his existence there was an anchor tethering him to a life of mediocrity. We all have our anchors which weigh us down and keep us from moving forward. If we truly want to grow, we must learn to sacrifice these items to forge forward.

Lesson #3 – Don’t always look for comfort. We often gravitate to situations with which we feel at home or comfortable. We may tend to socialize and associate only with people who look like us, practice like us and believe like us. Sometimes, your ability to make a dramatic contribution comes when you are willing to leave your comfort zone. You don’t always have to be with people who mirror you in every way; at times putting yourself in the uncomfortable position allows for maximum growth and impact.

Moshe was correct; Yisro is one of our most important teachers and role-models. Yisro’s legacy is not what he said. Yisro is not remembered for a particular sermon or lecture. Yisro didn’t leave us any meaningful statements, mantras or aphorisms. Yisro teaches us how to live through modeling a life-style of growth and achievement. This simple man has and continues to illuminate the eyes of our nation.