“...like a signet (shall they be) each man by his name, shall they be for the twelve tribes.” (Shmos 28:21)
The twelve stones of the Choshen had the names of the twelve sons of Yaakov etched upon them. The posuk says, “each man by his name,” which Rashi says, “according to the order of their birth; Odem for Reuven, Pitda for Shimon, and so on.” The commentaries clamor about this because elsewhere, in Shoftim (18:27), Rashi says the stone, “leshem” corresponded to Dan on the Choshen.
In order of birth, Dan was the fifth child born to Yaakov, but “leshem” was the seventh stone listed in the Choshen. If leshem corresponds to Dan, then the names could not have been on the breastplate in the order of their birth.
To answer this question, they explain that the stones on the Choshen were in the order of the childbearing of the tribes’ mothers, Leah, Bilha, Zilpa, Rachel. Therefore, Leah’s six sons came first, and Dan, the first son of Bilha, was the seventh.
Why did the Torah have to include any chronology at all? Let Betzalel be divinely inspired about which names to inscribe on each one. A further question is that the Sforno says the donor’s initial intention had to be that the stone be used for the names of the tribes to be inscribed upon them, and even the craftsmen could not change stones or intentions. From beginning to end, there had to be a specific intent.
Perhaps the Torah is teaching us the importance of individuality. Each mother gave birth to the children she was intended to bear. Each of them had a role and a place within Klal Yisrael that they alone could fill. Each of us does, as well.
Aharon merited to wear the Choshen on his heart because when he heard that his younger brother, Moshe, was going to be the leader, he was “happy in his heart,” i.e. truly happy for Moshe’s success. He had no jealousy or ill will about it. How is it possible to reach such a level? By recognizing that each of us has our own unique mission which doesn’t overlap with the missions of others. Their successes don’t detract from ours, nor do ours negate those of others.
Just as the stones were engraved with names, and they could not be erased or changed, so do each of us have to seek to fulfill our personal assignment and objectives which should never be swapped for the mission of another. Hashem doesn’t need two of them; He needs one of you.
Once, when R' Zusia of Hanipoli came to the Bais Medresh, his eyes were red with tears, and his face was pale with fear. "Rebbi! What's the matter? You look frightened!" "The other day," replied the sage "I had a vision. In it, I learned the question that the angels will one day ask me about my life."
The chasidim were puzzled. "But Rebbi, you are pious. You are scholarly and humble. You have helped so many of us. What question about your life could be so terrifying that you would be frightened to answer it?"
R' Zusia turned his gaze to heaven. “I have learned that the angels will not ask me, “Why weren't you a Moses, leading your people out of slavery?” And I have learned,” he sighed, “that the angels will not ask me, “Why weren't you a Joshua, leading your people into the promised land?””
“They will say to me, “Zusia, there was only one thing that no power of heaven or earth could have prevented you from becoming.' They will say, 'Zusia, why weren't you Zusia?””
©2024 – J. Gewirtz
