Around a decade ago a study was conducted in the United States exploring what creates the strongest sense of Jewish identity in young people that would last into adulthood. They looked at Jewish day schools, Israel tours, religion school or cheder, friendships and many other factors. Above and beyond anything else, the results were very clear, those children who had parents who volunteered their time in service to Jewish communities and institutions were by far the most likely to continue their Judaism into adulthood. By demonstrating how much one can gain by giving to and creating community, our wonderful volunteers are statistically also more likely to pass on a Judaism with longevity. I would argue that is true not only for their own families but for all of us here at EHRS, you help ensure we are not a community in decline, but one that continues to grow and flourish.
In Parashat Naso, the longest Torah portion, we find some pretty heavy themes, like adultery, along with censuses, the words of the priestly blessing that we still use, the Nazirite vow, and the offerings of the tribal leaders. At first glance, it may seem overly technical and repetitive. But beneath the surface lies a deep truth about what it means to serve — not out of obligation alone, but out of love.
The portion opens, as we’ve just heard, with the continuation of the census begun in last week’s reading. This passage includes the duties assigned to the Levites. While the Levites were designated by God, their role — carrying the Mishkan, attending to sacred tasks, serving without personal gain — reflects what lies at the heart of volunteerism: sacred service for the sake of the community and for others.
The Levites had no territorial inheritance themselves, and were reliant on the wider community to provide them with sustenance. We could also argue that their “portion” and inheritance was found in service. And we continue to be people that value service as part of our Judaism here. Every group that is organised, every cake baked or bought, every chair set up, every meal prepared, every toy tidied up — these are modern echoes of the Levites’ devotion, providing for others in the now, and for the community into the future.
So many of you here today give in the ways that you are able to, and over the last few years, particularly though not uniquely, through our together groups, we have tried to focus on helping people find what it is they are passionate about organising and giving within community. Parashat Naso also provides us with a model for a regular Israelite who personally decides to dedicate themselves more deeply to a path of heightened sanctity: a person known as a Nazir. No one was obligated to become a Nazirite, it was a singularly personal decision. Because holiness isn’t only about what’s done when commanded. It’s also about what’s offered freely. Our volunteers are modern-day Nazirites — choosing to give more, not because they have to, but because they want to lift the community higher.
Laid out in Naso we also hear what each tribes leader brings as a collective offering in the support of the mishkan. Each is identical in content, yet the Torah lists each one separately. Why the repetition? Because every person’s offering — every act of service — matters. Even if the job looks the same on the outside, it comes from a different heart, a different story. Each of our volunteers gives what they can, as they can. Some have done so for many years, others have just begun. People do so for a variety of reasons. We are grateful to all, and today we hope to remind you that each and every one is sacred.
The most famous part of the parahsah is the Birkat Kohanim, the priestly blessing. It is our most often recited blessing: May God Bless you and keep you, May God’s face shine upon you and be gracious to you, May God’s face turn towards you and givr you peace. In Hebrew our prayers are reflective – we do them to ourselves. So perhaps it’s not just a hope for health or peace — it’s a charge. For each and every one of us to be, or continue to be, a source of blessing for others.
And that’s what our volunteers are. A living blessing.
As I mentioned on Shavuot, the labguage used in commanding the census in this week and last week’s parashiot isn’t to count the people, but to lift up the heads (naso et rosh) of each person — let us lift up the heads of those who serve our synagogue community. Let us recognize that they do not do it for reward or recognition, but for love.
To all our volunteers: You are our Levites, our Nazirites, our tribal leaders, our kohanim. You are the ones who carry this sacred community forward. Whatever you give and however often, thank you. Todah rabbah — from the bottom of our hearts.
