Who Pitches In?
History, it is said, is the history of the victors. This is no less true for the Bible.
Whose story gets told, and who is absent from the text?
Who is ranked first and who appears last?
The Book of Numbers is a riveting book with a middling beginning. Parashat Bamidbar, the Torah portion that opens the book is nothing much more than a census. The tribes and their tribal princes are accounted for; their banners and formations are meticulously described. This is a society in continuing evolution and formation; a people establishing its own identity and structure.
Of course, a curious student of Torah still finds compelling details in the text; minutiae that point towards deeper truths or that prompt us to think about parallels of social organization and signaling in our time. I have talked about the significance of the tribal alignment and banners in the past, and as I was reading the portion, I was hoping something else would catch my eye.
Unlike in other ancient Near Eastern social systems, the Levitical Priests of the Torah were barred from holding land, in an attempt to separate the powers and prevent unchecked class privilege. The tribe of Levi already has the great honor of ministering to the people as priests and serving in the Tabernacle (and later, Temple). What that looked like in practice was a never-ending and unlimited free BBQ potluck. I imagine they would have been some of the most well-fed and well-dressed among the ancient Israelites.
The Levites hold significant clout. First of all, the triumvirate of Moses, Aaron and Miriam all hail from the tribe of Levi. Moses and Miriam function as Prophets, while Aaron establishes and inhabits the office of the Kohen Gadol, the High Priest. Much of the preceding book, the Book of Leviticus, is dedicated to the office of the High Priest and those who he directly supervises. But the Torah is less vocal about who else composed the tribe of Levi and what their roles were.
Until this week’s Torah portion.
It is easy to miss, because our understanding of the tribe of Levi isn’t deepened until near the end of the portion, after the rich detail of the twelve tribes and their tribal heads. In Chapter 3, verse 18, we learn of Aaron’s three additional sons (his sons Nadav, Avihu, Elazar and Itamar had already been listed in Leviticus). These sons are Gershon, Kohath and Merari. I am intrigued as to why they don’t appear until now. Where have they been all this time? Who is their mother? The commentaries remain silent. Gershon, Kohath and Merari themselves sired three ‘subtribes’ of Levi: the Gershonites, Kohathites and Merarites. These presumably ‘lesser’ sons founded dynasties who were assigned particular and practical duties in the upkeep of the Tabernacle. The Gershonites were responsible for the Tabernacle’s ‘shmatas’: the cloth and curtains needed for the sanctum. The The Kohathites were the ‘shleppers’ of the most sacred implements: the altars, the Ark of the Covenant and the Menorah. They carried these on poles on their backs rather than using oxcarts and we assume this was hard physical labor. The Merarites shlepped even more: they carried the heaviest implements that formed the structure and frame of the Tabernacle and did use oxcarts.
What strikes me about this description is how physical the work was, as honorable as it may have been. This was heavy and hard labor, and yet these Levites showed up and did it. They did not blow the silver trumpets; they did not sing the psalms or wash the hands of the ministering priests. They did not pronounce pure or impure, permitted or forbidden. They did not sacrifice animal or vegetable offerings. They worked in the background, quietly, and probably unseen, and through their labor, the Tabernacle was maintained.
I am enough of a social scientist to wonder at the class dynamics of this arrangement, but the text says little and am left to imagine. What this story teaches us is that acts of quiet, and often difficult, service are universal and eternal. Synagogue leaders often focus on the beginning of the portion: on the aspects of fundraising and leadership. But the Kohathites, Merarites and Gershonites numbered many and their contributions were essential.
So too is it for us. There are many quiet things that are done at the synagogue that are essential. Our community would not exist without the people who set up and clean up, who buy the food, administrate our finances, who set the Torah scrolls and polish the silver. One of the things visitors often comment upon spending time at Agudas Achim is how democratic the culture of our congregation feels. Many folks pitch in; wipe down the tables, put away the food and struggle with the dishwasher (a rite of passage in the kitchen!)
All this is holy work. Special, unseen, difficult, sometimes boring. Always needed. Let us appreciate what we do for each other day in and day out, for over a century in this beautiful community. We will keep the lamps burning and our community alive. Each day anew.
