(יט) וְזֹאת עֲשׂוּ לָהֶם וְחָיוּ וְלֹא יָמֻתוּ בְּגִשְׁתָּם אֶת־קֹדֶשׁ הַקֳּדָשִׁים אַהֲרֹן וּבָנָיו יָבֹאוּ וְשָׂמוּ אוֹתָם אִישׁ אִישׁ עַל־עֲבֹדָתוֹ וְאֶל־מַשָּׂאוֹ׃
(19) You shall do this with them, that they may live and not die when they approach the most sacred objects: let Aaron and his sons go in and assign each of them to his avodah and to his lifting.
עֲבֹדָה (n-f) Heb
-
- labour, service
- labour, work
- labour (of servant or slave)
- labour, service (of captives or subjects)
- service (of God)
- labour, service
על עבודתו. בכלי הקדש:
EVERY ONE TO HIS SERVICE. This refers to the holy vessels.
ואל משאו. לשאת בכתף:
AND TO HIS BURDEN. To be carried on the shoulder.
ושמו אותם איש איש על עבודתו ואל משאו. ולא שיהיה כל הקודם זוכה אבל ימתין כל אחד להיות מצווה ועושה:
ושמו איש איש על עבודתו ואל משאו, assign to each of them his specific duty in order to avoid a free for all. By doing this, you will insure that each Levite will wait patiently until his turn comes to carry out his assigned duty.
איש איש על עבדתו. מכאן שאינו נכנס לעבודה עד שיגדל ויהיה לאיש [רמב"ם פ"ג ה"ז מכלי המקדש].
From this we learn that one does not enter into the work until he is grown and has become a man.
To Be of Use
Marge Piercy
The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.
I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.
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
The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.
I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.
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.