In his very first commentary on sefer vayikra, the sfas emes quotes a seemingly unrelated midrash that emphasizes the point that, bottom line: everyone can recognize that we are sent into this world to carry out Hashem’s will. And to the degree that we manage to control ourselves and to make our actions manifestations of Hashem’s presence, we too can become melachim, the top agents of G-D, with no agenda of our own.
Huh? Why mention this idea at the very beginning of a book that deals primary with sacrifices and the work of the priests? Throw me a bone here! Actually, Moshe Rabbeinu is the answer. (Note: not Allen Iverson) He is the ultimate in this agent role, always ready to attend to the will of the creator. Where do we see Moshe’s constant, immediate availability? “It’s in there!” (Prego Commercial circa ‘84), check the first pasuk of our parsha, where the Torah tells us, with no preamble or introduction, ‘Hashem called to Moshe…”, this is the key to understanding Moshe. He was always there, ready to receive his next mission.
Let’s take a moment and discuss one small “side effect” of Moshe’s posture. Moshe had ample cause to be unhappy with his life. One of his children did not follow in his footsteps. He knew for a fact that despite all his efforts, the people of Israel would go off the prescribed path, and lastly, he was denied entrance into the Holy Land! No Falafel, no Ben Yehudah, no Rabbi Machlis! Who wouldn’t be upset? But despite these serious reverses, Moshe does not come across as a victim, and not even as a tragic hero. Why? Because he may have had no real ego of his own. Viewing himself totally as an agent to carry out the will of Hashem, he was able to separate himself from his personal desires.
In the beginning of the sefer, the Torah describes three different types of sacrifices: the burnt offering, the burnt offering of a turtle-dove, and the sacrifice of flour. These three sacrifices involve very different financial costs. The fact that, nevertheless, Hashem accepts each of these offerings in the same way led the Rabbis to comment in the final mishnah in Masechet Menachot, “echad hamarbeh viechad hamam’it, ubilvad sheyichaven libo lishamayim”. That is, if people focus on serving Hashem, it does not matter whether in their actions they do more or less. In both cases, they receive the same degree of acceptance, “reiach nichoach laHashem”. The cosmic impact, so to speak, is identical.
When the Shulchan Aruch discusses the custom of reciting Tikkun Chatzot, he states “to me’aht tachanunim bekavana meharbei shelo bikavana”, that perhaps it is better to recite fewer words of prayer with proper focus on what one is saying than to recite a greater amount but with less concentration.
This statement echoes our text of “echad hamarbeh…”. The Taz raises the question of why is it that both the one who recites a large quantity and the one who recites a lesser quantity should receive the same reward? The Taz’s reading of the shulchan aruch assumes that the reader that does more must have greater merit than the person who does less.
However, the sfas emes reads the S.A. differently and asks, why is it that the one who recites more should receive the same amount as the one who recites less? Both have achieved the same desired result, namely, to focus their attention on serving Hashem. But the one who does this by reciting less has achieved this result more economically. By being more efficient, he has freed resources, time and energy, that can be used for other tasks of Torah, Avodah and chesed. Therefore, shouldn’t he receive the greater reward?
The sfae emes uses a parable to clarify his message. Two merchants from the same town both need to travel to the same destination. One merchant arrives there quickly, but the other arrives a day late.
The person who invests the greater effort in achieving the objective who – rather than being lauded for his exertion – would be expected to explain himself. But now come the comforting words, “echad hamarbeh…” telling us that the purpose of our actions is “sheyechaven libo lashamayim”. Therefore, provided we achieve the objective of the korban, to bring us closer to Hashem, it does not matter how much we need to strive to reach that objective.
We may actually find the logic of the sfas emes so persuasive that we are faced with the opposite question. Why does the “inferior” person, the one who expends more energy to reach the desired goal, get the same reward as the “superior” person? The sfas emes’ parable, and his rather radical reading of “echad hamarbeh…” focus our attention on the key take-home lesson: “ubilvad sheyachaven libo lashamyim.” This is the ultimate in lesson in our service of Hashem. It is the recipe for becoming a malach, a true agent of the Almighty, just like Moshe Rabbeinu.