When the people of Simonia asked Rav Yehuda HaNassi to bring them someone to lead, teach Torah and oversee their needs, “he gave them Levi bar Sisi.”
In honor of their new spiritual leader, the Simonians built an elaborate platform, for him to sit upon as they approached him with their sh’alos. And approach they did! With questions about the parashiot, about halachic concerns, and much more. Throughout, Levi bar Sisi remained silent.
“Rav Yehuda!” they cried, “Is this how you satisfy our request?”
Rav Yehuda was confused. “Bring him here,” he suggested.
In Rav Yehuda’s presence, Levi bar Sisi answered each question in a thoughtful, scholarly and pious manner.
“You answer me as the scholar I know you to be. Why do you not answer the townspeople in a similar manner?” Rav Yehuda asked.
Levi responded: “They sat me upon a huge bima… I was so taken by my own self importance; I could not so much as utter a word.”
So it was with Aaron Hakohen.
At the consecration of the Mishkan, Moshe publicly proclaimed that Aaron had been divinely appointed as Kohen Gadol. At the same time, specific instructions were given to the Kohen Gadol – and no one else. As Rashi explains, although the elders were present, they were only present to serve as witnesses that it was G-d Himself who appointed Aaron. This lest someone suspect the appointment to be politically motivated or personally favored by Moshe.
Despite all this, like Levi, Aaron remained reticent when the time came to discharge his duties as Kohen Gadol.
“Approach the altar,” Moshe prompted him, “and prepare your sin and burnt offerings.”
Certainly, Aaron was not confused as to his tasks. They had been assigned by HaShem Himself! Rather, Aaron was humbled by the awesome tasks before him. Shehaya Aharon bosh ve’yare lageshet.
Did not Moshe understand Aaron’s fear and trembling? After all, Moshe himself tried to turn away from his calling at the Burning Bush. Of course he did. And that was why he continued to prompt his brother. “Approach the altar, for you were chosen. Embolden yourself and come do your priestly activities. The one endowed with true humility is best suited to serve G-d.”
The Talmud teaches that humility results in the “fear of sin.” For the truly pious, fear of sin is the prelude for all that is G-dly. That said, humility does not come naturally to us. True humility is not a mere “absence” – an absence of arrogance or haughtiness. Rather, it is a fullness of the gentleness and piety that comes from a true fear of sin. Humility is not a single act but a stance, an approach to life which encompasses every aspect of human thought and behavior.
Humility is only achieved through experience. Indeed, humility is the necessary result of an awareness of our profound imperfection. Though we are created in the image of G-d, we are also formed from the clay of the earth. Whatever we do, wherever we turn, sin, error and failure await us.
Aaron stood as the Kohen Gadol and yet, he would forever remain humbled by the crushing failure of the golden calf. Lekach nivecharta, Moshe responded to Aaron’s reticence. It was precisely because of his remembrance of his dreadful sin that he was most worthy to stand in the service of G-d. For that remembrance inspired the humility which made him great.
Only the truly humble can be made great. And only he who has sinned can know humility. Maharitz teaches that it was because he sinned that Aaron was Divinely ordained to serve as Kohen Gadol. Otherwise, how would it be possible for him to personally identify with the humbled sinner’s need for atonement without having personally experienced the humbling need for forgiveness?
“Why are you ashamed of the golden calf?” Moshe asked Aaron. Lekach nivecharta. “You were granted the humbling opportunity to sin, so that you would then be able to atone for all sinners.”
It is only by being humbled that a man can truly be raised up.
So it is that we learn of the farmer who went with his son into the wheat field to see if it was ready for harvest.
“See, father,” exclaimed the boy, “how straight these stems hold up their heads! They must be the best ones. Those that hang their heads down, I am sure, cannot be too good.”
The older farmer smiled knowingly at his son. Then he plucked a stalk of each kind and said, “See here, my son. This stalk that stood so straight is light headed and almost worthless, while this that hung its head so modestly is full of the most beautiful grain.”