The Importance of What We Give
At the heart of Parashat Naso is a repetitive description of the offerings brought by the leaders of each of the tribes in honor of the anointing of the altar. Each prince, beginning with Nahshon ben Ammindav of the Tribe of Judah, brings the same exact offering:
[O]ne silver bowl weighing one hundred and thirty shekels and one silver basin of seventy shekels by the sanctuary weight . . . one gold ladle of ten 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 goats, and five yearling lambs. (Num. 7: 13–17)
Given Torah’s propensity for and gift of terse language, why would it repeat the same description for each leader? Clearly, the names of the presenters could have been listed, followed by a single description of the “gift” each of them brought. What would lead Torah to choose the more arduous route of redundancy?
Rabbi Shmuel Avidor HaCohen writes,
There is no question that the offerings brought by each of the princes of the tribes are identical. Each of them brings the same sacrifices, the same bowl of silver, the same silver basin, and the same gold ladle filled with incense. However, even though the offerings and sacrifices were the same, the intentions and experiences of each prince were not identical. The thoughts of human beings are not the same and their particular experiences vary from person to person—even if the mechanical act is the same. Perhaps this is what Torah is coming to teach us in Parashat Naso. Yes, the technical details of each offering [are] the same. But the feeling and experience behind each offering is particular to each prince. For this reason, each prince merited a full description of their offering. (Likrat Shabbat, 147)
Rabbi HaCohen’s exegesis is moving and insightful. Even though the material dimension of each offering is precisely the same, the spiritual and emotional dimension involved in its presentation is a unique experience for each of the leaders. What we may initially perceive as redundancy is, in fact, an effort to give honor to each of the leaders of the various tribes. We, as readers of the text, are compelled to use our imaginations and hearts—and even to imagine ourselves in the role of “givers.” The essence is not simply what is given; rather, it is how it is given.
The publication and distribution of A Taste of Torah are made possible by a generous grant from Sam and Marilee Susi.
