blogs/rabbi-huberman

About a month ago, my wife and I escaped the damp climes of Glen Cove and retreated for five days to an old colonial inn located in northern Jamaica.

The inn had no real frills, and perhaps that’s one reason why many keep visiting this spot—some for more than 40 years—since it was built in 1959.

What makes this place so special? Each room has an adjoining outdoor patio. All you have to do is step off the veranda and walk 50 feet to the soft and sparkling beach.

But perhaps the most attractive feature of this retreat is that none of the rooms has a television, and phone and internet service are sketchy.

That gave us total relaxation and reflection. We wound down each evening just after sunset and were up at dawn, observing God’s glorious sunrise, without any rings, pings or calendar reminders.

On our first morning, at 6 am, as I sat on the patio with my coffee, I quietly observed the staff preparing the beach for the arrival of readers, relaxers and sunbathers.

One staff member, Lionel, was charged with combing the sand with a huge rake, clearing it of footprints from the previous day. I watched as he meticulously evened out every square foot.

Lionel worked diligently, without any supervision. I commented that he was doing a perfect job, and he replied, “Yah, man. It’s my job.”

Soon after, he was joined by another worker who wore a white and blue t-shirt with the word “life guard” etched on the back. His job at dawn was to straighten the beach chairs, open the umbrellas and perfectly position the small white tables.

Then, another fellow appeared. His unattractive job was to spray the tables, chairs and trees with insect repellant.

I asked him whether he was concerned about the exposure to pesticides. “No man,” he replied. “This is a natural spray from plants in the forest. This is an important job so that our guests can totally relax.” 

Three hours later, when guests began arriving, they settled onto a perfectly coiffed beach, with straightened chairs and tables, and I don’t recall anyone complaining about bug bites on that, or any other day,

A few days later, as the manager checked us out, as the official greeter walked us to the airport van, I commented at how seriously everyone took their jobs.

And she replied, “Work is precious. It is a privilege to do it, and to serve others.” Her words moved me.

I was thinking the other day, about how the value and quality of work in this country has deteriorated in recent years.

Too many perform their jobs as if they are merely interruptions of their texting.

From those cutting grass, to pouring coffee at Dunkin’ Donuts, to the person behind the counter at the Department of Motor Vehicles, too many appear disinterested.

I was thinking about this as I reread this week’s Torah portion titled Naso—“Take a Census.”

Didn’t God command Moses last week to conduct a census of men from the major tribes, between ages 20 and 60, who could, if called upon, serve in the Israelites’ desert army?

But wait—says the Torah this week—there are other tribes, the smaller ones, often overlooked, who worked behind the scenes, who also deserved to be counted.

There were those under the Gershonite banner, who were responsible for packing and unpacking the sanctuary that accompanied the Israelites along dozens of stops on their journey to the Promised Land.

There were the 2,750 Kohathites, who attended to the holy vessels and other sacred objects. The Merarites, 3,200 strong, took care of the sanctuary framework—including posts, crossbars and tent pegs. The Levites, totaling 8,350, were responsible for preparing and performing rituals.

These tribes, and others even smaller, often performed messy and tedious work, but our Sages emphasize that everyone took pride in their work and their identity—and thus also deserved to the counted. It was what God meant them to do.

A prayer Jews recite as we begin a meal—the Hamotzi—thanks God for enabling us to “take bread from the earth.”

Each time I recite that prayer, I take a moment to offer thanks not just for the bread, but also for the system God created to bring it to my table—in particular the multitude of workers who were involved.

There are those who plant and harvest the grain, along with its sorting and grading, storage and transportation.

I think about the countless individuals working in supermarkets who unpack boxes, along with those who neatly place bread on the shelves. I think about the cashiers, the packers, and those in our homes who prepare our food and clean up afterwards.

They are often unrecognized and unsung, and we often fail to count or thank them.

But on this, the second week of our reading of the Book of Numbers, as we are introduced to smaller and often ignored tribes, we are inspired to consider the many who perform their work behind the scenes, who enable us to seamlessly enjoy our lives.

There is a connection between Lionel the beach raker, the bug sprayer and the chair arranger, and those who diligently worked behind the scenes preparing the ancient sanctuary for worship, moving it from place to place.

The great sage Maimonides once defined work as a person’s capacity to contribute their God-given skills to greater humanity. He noted that those who just sit and study all day without working, “robs their fellow man.”

He added that we should each take pride in our work, no matter what that may be—whether for a short time or for a lifetime.

As we rode to the airport at the end of our trip, our driver turned the car radio to a reggae station and within minutes there he was—the country’s national prophet Bob Marley, with words Jamaicans live by.

His music underscores that whether we are a tribe of one, or one of hundreds or thousands, what we do matters. Whether our work is big or small, recognized or unsung, each of us plays a role in making this world the blessing that it is.

Does each of us count? Does each of us deserve to be counted? As the Torah inspires us to consider in this week’s parashah, “Yah man.”

Or, in the words of Bob Marley, who encouraged us all to praise God for the blessing and contribution of every human being:

“One love, one heart. Let’s get together and feel alright.”

Shabbat shalom, v’kol tuv.

Rabbi Irwin Huberman