Shabbat Shalom – Behaalotekha

One cannot tell by looking at me now, but I was once a decent athlete. I had a great track coach in high school. Overton Curtis has since passed away, but my memory of his impact on my life stays on my “front burner.” He was responsible for taking this pudgy 15 year old freshman and turning me into … a contender. He worked us hard, but always reminded us that success was never more than fifty percent perspiration, and never less than fifty percent inspiration. He told us stories of great athletes that never amounted to anything because they lacked inspiration. He kept reminding me that even while short, I had potential. He lifted my spirits and my own expectations. The sad thing, though, I am not sure that I ever let him know just how important his faithful inspiration was for my own growth; both as an athlete and as a person.

One cannot tell by looking at me now, but I was once a decent athlete. I had a great track coach in high school. Overton Curtis has since passed away, but my memory of his impact on my life stays on my “front burner.” He was responsible for taking this pudgy 15 year old freshman and turning me into … a contender. He worked us hard, but always reminded us that success was never more than fifty percent perspiration, and never less than fifty percent inspiration. He told us stories of great athletes that never amounted to anything because they lacked inspiration. He kept reminding me that even while short, I had potential. He lifted my spirits and my own expectations. The sad thing, though, I am not sure that I ever let him know just how important his faithful inspiration was for my own growth; both as an athlete and as a person.

I thought of Coach Curtis as I read this week’s Torah portion. The portion begins with and odd statement. “Behaalotekha et hanaerot – When you raise the lamps.” I thought it odd that the text did not say, “Light the lights” or even “Light the Candelabra.” The lawyer in me took over and had to figure out what (beyond style) might be the reasons for this wording. Literally, one could argue that raising the lamp could be a physical action – lifting the lampstand. While watching Aaron lift this weighty piece might be impressive, I tend to think that there is a more profound value to be found here. The late Lubavitcher Rebbe argued that the “lamps” were the people, and that the command to Aaron was to lift their spirits … to inspire them.

For all of the ways in which the late Rebbe’s words have been twisted into lessons of Jewish exclusivism, I have always found his writing to be incredibly egalitarian and universally engaging. Perhaps he only intended that the High Priest (Aaron and his descendancy) had this ability or was to here this call, but in keeping with his other work, I believe he was speaking a mitzvah to all people … not even just all Jews. While he does not go further to justify this claim, I have always seen Torah as a document that speaks to faith, not just to one religion or another. In the Torah, we are called a “Mamlekhet Kohanim – a Kingdom of Priests.” As such, whatever is a command to the priesthood should be seen as a statement to each of us.

Herein is where Coach Curtis’ influence hit me beyond teaching me to be a disciplined athlete or to throw the discus. By the time I hit college, I not only began to mature in that realm, but I realized that what he taught me had nothing to do with athletics. He taught me the value of inspiration. We really can change lives when we “lift the lamps” … when we take time to help increase the light that shines on people, leading them to a greater sense of self, and then to greater accomplishments. Face it, most of us battle some form of depression from time to time. We look in the mirror and are often not thrilled with what looks back at us. We are our worst and, often, least rational critic. Yes, we have moments of clarity and most often, a sense that we are valuable at some level in this world. We thrive, however, on the affirmation that we receive as people “lift our lamps” and help us to be all that we can be (which is often more than we think we can be).

How many people do you know whose world needs a lift? How many times do we take the time to stop and share this gift with each other? We need to be more intentional in taking better care of each other. I am quite sure that Coach Curtis never knew how deeply I appreciate him. We never know how deeply we touch people when we simply stop to take care of them. Shabbat Shalom.