LaShir v’LiShmor: To Sing and Stand Guard

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.-Marge Piercy, To Be of Use

In the dusty wilderness, the work - avodah - most thoroughly detailed is that of sacrificial offering. Aaron and his sons became the priests who presided over that work, but the rest of the tribe of Levi also had “things worth doing”. There were three clans within the tribe of Levi, each of which got a different primary task in moving the parts of the Ohel Mo’ed (“Tent of Meeting” where the sacrifices took place) as the Israelites wandered from camp to camp. 

However, this assignment was age-restricted (Bamidbar 8:24-26):

This is the rule for the Levites. From twenty-five years of age up they shall participate in the work force in the service of the Tent of Meeting; but at the age of fifty they shall retire from the work force and shall work no more. They may assist their brother Levites at the Tent of Meeting by standing guard, but they shall do no work. Thus you shall deal with the Levites in regard to their duties.

What did the Levites do before they turned twenty-five? How did they handle forced retirement? Were they happy to take a break, or did they cry for work that is real? 

On one level, these questions deal with a very specific set of circumstances for a profession that hasn’t been practiced in thousands of years, and require delving into the distinction between how the Levites operated in the wilderness, and how they operated differently once a Temple was built, and so on. (We aren’t going down this rabbit hole today, but if you’d like to - email me or Kavana partner Danyel Fisher, who recently helped me sort through this topic with great knowledge and enthusiasm!)

On another level, these questions guide us towards our own desires for work that is real; our own dilemmas in negotiating the tensions around money and meaning, people and purpose, creativity and control; our own discernment in exploring life outside of work (at any age).  

The traditional commentators on our Torah verses clarify that the only work that has an age limit is the physically taxing disassembly, moving, and reconstruction of the Ohel Mo’ed. But there are other contributions the Levite clans continue to make. 

The Kehatites retired from carrying the Ark on their shoulders, and the family of the Gershonites and Merarites retired from loading the wagons with the parts of the Tabernacle and from dismantling and re-erecting the structure. But they continued to sing and to stand guard (laShir v’liShmor).... (Chizkuni)

Something about these two verbs encapsulates for me the deepest tasks of being human. For much of our working life, we are building things, we are taking things apart, we are changing things. But we can always sing (if you’re about to protest, just take it metaphorically!) Singing brings forth something from within, a form of self-expression that also lends itself so beautifully to togetherness. You need nothing except yourself to begin. It is one of the simplest ways of making yourself into a gift and a blessing. LaShir, to sing, is to plumb your own depths for self-understanding (getting in tune with yourself), then seeking harmony and shared rhythm with others.

And we can always “stand guard”. For the Levites, their task involved paying careful attention to the Holiest place, and making sure no one got injured. They were sacred lifeguards, knowing that the pool of holiness holds dangers for those who aren’t prepared for the immersion. For us, though, just the word shmor will do. To guard, watch over, keep safe, preserve, protect, observe… An exquisite sense of care - both in the sense of being careful, and caring for and about. 

All of which is to say, I think what the Levites did when they weren’t carrying tapestries and wooden beams around was practice forms of love, what Rilke called “the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation.” 

Wishing you a Shabbat of song and care, lashir v’lishmor!

Rabbi Jay LeVine