To Live Long and Prosper: Naso

To Live Long and Prosper: Naso
D’var Torah for Parashat Naso: Numbers 4:21-7:89
Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

In honor of Yoni's 11th Bar Mitzvah anniversary, with love and admiration from his Abba.


Leonard Nemoy didn’t simply invent the Vulcan salute. He borrowed it. This week’s Torah portion, Naso, describes the ritual at which the Kohanim, Priests of God at the Temple in Jerusalem, blessed the People of Israel. To perform this ritual, known as Birkat Kohanim (“priestly blessing”), the Priests stood in their bare feet, facing the people, prayer shawls covering their faces. Then they would extend their hands and with their fingers shape the letter “Shin,” which stands for Shaddai (one of God’s many names) or sh’ma (hear, listen!) or perhaps even for Shechina—God’s Presence among us. The blessing may have been somewhat more complex than “live long and prosper,” but it was the same hand gesture that Spock used.

I usually close services with the words of the blessing. The fuller ritual is still practiced in Orthodox synagogues on the High Holy Days.

Going back in time, silver amulets found in archeological digs just outside Jerusalem offer evidence that the Priestly Blessing was widely known and often used as far back as First Temple days.

May God bless you and watch over you.
May God cause light to shine forth upon you and be gracious unto you.
May God’s countenance be lifted towards you, may God grant you peace.

The simple beauty of this Threefold Benediction masks the fact that each verse contains two verbs. These are actually paired blessings where each part somehow relates to the second.

Why are those pairings there? Is it simply a poetic device, or is there more to it? My hunch is that the combination is intentional. The two verbs in each sentence are not necessarily parallels or synonymous; in fact, once can find a certain tension between them, as though they were on two opposing ends, engaged in a game of gravitational push and pull.

If God blesses us, why does He also need to watch over us?

I believe that the answer can be found when we look at the Torah portion as a whole.

There are three parts to Naso. The two outer parts are ordinary and routine, if not actually also a bit boring. The portion opens with a listing of the Levite clans and their Tabernacle-associated daily chores. In last week’s portion we read about the first clan—the Kohathites—and their responsibilities. Now Naso describes the duties of the Gershonite clan (responsible for the software—the cloth material) and the Merarite clan (the hardware: the pillars, sockets and pins).

Another long and tedious listing occurs in the closing third of the portion. It is a detailed inventory of the offerings brought to the Tabernacle at the time of its dedication by each tribe and its chieftain. Not surprisingly, for each of the twelve tribes, the wording is exactly the same, and is repeated twelve times; only the names are changed to fit the tribe and its specific leader.

It’s in the middle of the portion, however, that we find two very extraordinary and even extreme situations. The first is the case of the Sotah, the “wayward woman.” This refers to a wife whose husband suspects of adultery. The second instance is the Nazir, a nazirite, a person who takes special vows to God, promising to abstain from wine and all grape products and from cutting his hair, for a specific period of time.

How are the three sections related to each other? The two outer parts of the portion—tedious and repetitious—could be said to represent everyday life. Everybody here knows their role and what his or her obligation is to society. Everybody knows what to do, when, and precisely how to do it. In this somewhat unreal picture of life, everybody’s contribution to the Tabernacle is equally important. When we live in such a way, the portion says, life and peace will prevail.

But the truth is that reality isn’t ever quite so calm or boring. Life isn’t only extreme sports, it’s extreme everything.

The middle part of Parashat Naso speaks not of the mundane and ordinary, but rather of the extraordinary. It is here, the Torah says, that danger lies.

Since the beginning of humanity, a woman suspected of infidelity was in mortal danger. In the Middle East, among many Arabs, “honor killing” is actually still legal. No questions are asked, no evidence is necessary. Dishonor brings death, often at the hands of a close male relative—say, husband, uncle, father, or brother.

The “Sotah” (“wayward woman”) procedure described in this week’s Torah portion tries to put a stop to this crime. The ritual of proof is demeaning and humiliating towards women. We all may be excused if we feel anger, hurt and shame when we read it. Still, it is important to realize that the true intention of this passage was to stop murder in extraordinary—but tragically not rare—cases of extreme passion. How sad that this law was necessary to begin with; how much sadder that violence against women still continues to this day.

The case of the Nazirite is also one of extreme passion—though this time the fervor is directed towards God. The extraordinary act of faith demonstrated by the Nazirite may at first seem honorable. However, we know all too well how dangerous the overly zealous faithful can be. Human history is filled with religious extremism, religious wars, crusades, jihads and suicide bombings. These are all crimes of passion, no less than the so called “honor killing” in the case of the Sotah. This portion lays out bounds and rules to the Nazirite’s behavior in an attempt to control the danger before it blows up.

With both the ordinary and the extreme in our life, we can now see why we need paired blessings. One to thank for, the other to watch out for.

—May God bless you and watch over you. Bless you: It is a blessing when you are part of the community, when you do can your job, when every individual contributes to society in a fair and equitable manner. Watch over you: From the overly passionate, from the overly zealous; from those who think they have divinely mandated authority.

—May God cause light to shine forth upon you and be gracious unto you. Enlightenment is wonderful. But don’t think you are the only recipient of this gift. True grace is found in the understanding that each of us—not just me or you—has the Divine spark within him or her. Grace is in how you see other people. Watch out for those who presume to possess exclusive understanding of God’s purpose and reason.

—May God’s countenance be lifted towards you, may God grant you peace. A society in which some feel entitled while others end up doing all (or most) of the work will not be at peace with itself. Peace can only be found when we interact, when we give back as much as we take.

The Temple is no longer standing on its mount in Jerusalem. The Levites and the Priests are no longer in charge of services and rituals. Now it’s up to us ordinary human beings to step up to their obligations. Parashat Naso teaches us—novice priests that we all are—that life is a complex blending of the mundane and the unique. That in fact, what we are called upon to do is to take each mundane or ordinary moment and turn it into something blessed, something extraordinary—while keeping its essence intact.

The Priestly Blessing isn’t merely a wish. It’s an instruction, a manual to a long and prosperous life.

© 2010 by Boaz D. Heilman