The introduction to the giving of the Torah notes the purpose of why the Jewish People would receive it – to become a “kingdom of priests” and a “holy people” (Shemos 19:5). But what does being a “kingdom of priests” actually entail?
According to the Ramban (in his commentary to the Torah, Shemos 19:6), the Jewish People, just like the Kohanim of the Temple, are dedicated to the service of Hashem. Thus, we become a “holy people,” a nation that clings to Hashem and experiences His closeness. The Ramban explains later (Shemos 25:1) that this renders us worthy of the Shechinah dwelling among us.
Priests, however, have a second function, too. Not only do they serve in the Mikdash, but they also ensure the tradition is passed on, taught to the next generation. The tribe of Levi are teachers: “They shall teach your statues to Yaakov and your Torah to Israel” (Devarim 33:10). Elsewhere, we are told that “the Kohen’s lips will guard knowledge, and they shall seek Torah from his mouth (Malachi 2:7).
Based on this function of the Kohen, our national role as a “kingdom of priests” is teaching the ways of Hashem to the entire world. This is the interpretation given by the Seforno: “For you shall by a kingdom of priests to cause the entire human race to call the Name of Hashem and serve Him united, which is the purpose of Israel in future times.”
The two functions of the Kohen define two distinct internal motions for the Jewish people. One is a motion of solitude, as the dramatic picture of the Kohen Gadol in the Kodesh HaKodashim at the height of the year’s Temple service. Like him, we are totally alone, solitary: “Behold! It is a nation that will dwell in solitude and not be reckoned among the nations” (Bamidbar 23:9).
The second motion turns outwards. Rather than offering a personal service, we become Hashem’s embassy, transmitting His light to a darkened world like the moon reflects the sun into the night. Our national purpose is thus expressed in the words of the pasuk, “This nation I have created for Myself; My glory they shall tell” (Yeshayahu 43:21). We work constantly towards the final destiny of “the earth will be filled with knowledge of Hashem as water covering the sea bed” (Yeshayahu 11:9).
As a Torah society, it is crucial to keep both of these motions close to our hearts. A Yeshiva cannot be a Noah’s Ark alone – a popular image for the modern Yeshiva institution – keeping its students safe from the secular tempest raging outside. While remaining aloof of the tempest, the Yeshiva must be a lighthouse. Its windows cannot be small, serving only to allow light to enter; they need to be huge, overlooking the world outside, seeking to lead and guide, elevate and inspire.
Dividing the two motions along a historical timeline, it seems that for many centuries, while in the survival mode imposed on us by a harsh exile, our primary motion was the former – serving Hashem in solitude. Glancing around Israel today, it seems clear that much of the Jewish people, and even much of the world, is waiting for us to take the initiative. It will require much labor, much investment, and much taking responsibility. Tough decisions await, with their attendant accountability. Yet, this is not a matter of choice. It is our raison d’être.
We have always been a “nation of priests.” Today, however, the call is heard louder than ever. As Olim, we have already taken a great step towards answering the call. The next strides await.
