This Shabbat we study the Parshah Behaalotecha, meaning “When you raise” (Numbers 8:2). Aaron is commanded to raise light in the lamps of the menorah, and the tribe of Levi is initiated into the service in the Sanctuary. A “Second Passover” is instituted in response to the petition by a group of Jews who were unable to bring the Passover offering in its appointed time because they were ritually impure. G-d instructs Moses on the procedures for Israel’s journeys and encampments in the desert, and the people journey in formation from Mount Sinai, where they had been camped for nearly a year. The people are dissatisfied with their “bread from heaven” (the manna), and demand that Moses supply them with meat. Moses appoints 70 elders, to whom he imparts of his spirit, to assist him in the burden of governing the people. Miriam speaks negatively of Moses, and is punished with leprosy; Moses prays for her healing, and the entire community waits seven days for her recovery.

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Chabad.org

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The Torah portion of Behaalotecha (Numbers 8-12) describes the encampment of the Jewish people in the desert and the manner in which they traveled. After hearing the signal sounded by special silver trumpets, the 12 tribes of Israel packed up their camp, lined up in a designated order and marched forth into the desert. The tribe of Dan always marched last.

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Their job was to bring up the rear and gather up any objects left behind—missing socks, perhaps, or lost children. They picked up after everyone else. It’s not a very glorious role. Not nearly as impressive as leading the tribes, like Judah, or carrying the holy vessels like the Levites. But it was a job that needed to get done.

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Chassidic teachings explain that in addition to maintaining the baggage claim department, the Danites also ran a different type of "lost and found." There’s something that people can lose when they’re out in the front, soaking up all the glory. They can lose perspective. They can lose their sensitivity to others and the awareness of their own fallibility. The Danites were able to return this to the tribes who were out in front. They were in last place, but they were in the race, eyes on the goal. Without any fanfare, they did what needed doing and stayed focused on the needs of others. With a wonderful blend of self-effacement and self-esteem, they felt no need to get ahead. They knew they were doing exactly what G-d needed from them.

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The Danites are my inspiration, especially on those days when I’m in a slump and it seems that the world is passing me by. The days that no one returns my phone calls or reads my emails, and I feel like I’m the bottom of the heap. But maybe today there’s someone who needs a smile from me or is losing their balance, and I can help them find it. Maybe someone out there needs a friend who will return their phone calls and respond to their e-mails. There’s a little child right here who needs my full attention while he tells me about his day. I’m chugging along in last place, the wind blowing in my face. Nothing is important; everything is important. I’m coming in last, but I’m in the race.

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From an article by Chaya Shuchat

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In the Temple in Jerusalem was a seven-branched menorah. That is us, the Jewish people.

Each of us is a flame. One flame burns softly. Another burns with a roar. Until seven branches are filled with millions of distinct, unique flames. All are drawn upwards, all yearning to reunite with their Beloved above.

And that is the work of Aaron the Kohen, the priest of kindness and love: That every soul should burn its own flame, and not a single one should remain dark or dim.

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Rabbi Tzvi Freeman

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In our present state of galut (exile) we are ritually impure, both literally and metaphorically, as well as “on a distant road.” Thus we must cry out and demand from G-d: “Why should we be deprived from offering G-d’s sacrifice? We want the purification that comes with the Messianic redemption, and the new Beit Hamikdash to serve G-d in the intended way!”

When we will express this desire and demand it with true sincerity, surely G-d will grant this immediately, just as He responded to our ancestors in the desert.

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From an article by Rabbi Immanuel Schochet

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“Fifteen days left!” That was a note on the fridge of a hard-working teacher, counting down till the end of her school year. My children, too, are doing a similar countdown.

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How often do we will away time? Caught in a traffic jam, we fume about how long it is taking us to arrive at our destination. In a doctor’s waiting room, we tap impatiently while awaiting our turn. Though our tapping and fuming doesn’t make the time go any faster, it expresses how we want to move on to “the more important stuff.”

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As women, especially, we enthusiastically await life’s next milestones—the baby finally sleeping through the night, speaking her first words, walking his first steps, beginning that first day at school—only to wake up one day to an empty home, wondering where the time went.

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We can’t wait to graduate, earn our degrees and begin our first job. Then, we’re eager for the next, better job opportunity until we find ourselves pondering when we will finally save enough to retire.

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Interestingly, when recording the life of righteous people, like Abraham and Sarah, the Torah uses the phrase, “zekeinim, baim bayomim—they were old, they entered many days.” If they were old, isn’t it obvious that they lived many days? The wording implies, however, that living many days isn’t necessarily entering our days. We can will away our time, looking for the next prospect, or we can live in the moment, entering each of our days by experiencing them fully.

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Similarly, in this week’s Torah portion, we learn about how the Jewish people journeyed in the desert. “Whether it was for two days, a month or a year, that the cloud lingered to hover over the Sanctuary, the children of Israel would encamp and not travel, and when it departed, they traveled. At the L-rd’s bidding they would encamp, and at the L-rd’s bidding they would travel.” (Numbers 9:22-23).

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Sometimes, they camped for weeks at a location; other times they remained for just a day. At every location, the Levites assembled the Sanctuary, including the wall sections, pillars, tapestries, furnishing and every one of its hundreds of foundation sockets. Several thousand Levites were needed for this formidable task.

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Was it really necessary to assemble and disassemble the entire structure if they were to remain for only one day at a particular location? The Rebbe explains that this teaches us that every one of our “stations” in life is significant. At times, we may feel that we are just at a waiting point, at a stage before the next, more meaningful phase. But every day, every moment—somehow, even those caught at the long supermarket checkout line—can be entered into and transformed into an opportunity for growth. At every juncture, we need to assemble our own Sanctuary by finding a way, at this moment, to join heaven and earth.

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Chana Weisberg

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