Parshat Beshalach: Rediscovering Purpose In Every Mitzvah

“Vayas kein Aharon”—Aharon lit the Menorah exactly as he was commanded… and never lost his fire.

In this week’s parshah, we learn about the lighting of the Menorah, a holy task entrusted to Aharon HaKohen. The Torah tells us: “Vayas kein Aharon”—Aharon did exactly as he was commanded. Rashi notes something peculiar: “Shelo shina”—he didn’t change a thing. But this raises an obvious question. Why would he have changed it? Aharon received direct instructions from Hashem. Of course he followed them!

My father, Rav Yitzchok Fingerer shlit"a, shared a profound insight from the Kotzker Rebbe that sheds light on this. The Kotzker explains that the Torah is not merely stating that Aharon didn’t deviate from the halachah. Rather, it is highlighting something far more personal: Aharon never let the mitzvah grow stale. The same passion and awe he felt the first time he lit the Menorah, he carried with him every single day for the next 39 years. His excitement never dimmed. He refused to allow habit to replace heart.

Every day, Aharon consciously said, “Today, I light the Menorah as if for the very first time.” He lit it with fresh intention, with renewed meaning, with vibrant connection to Hashem. That is the deeper shelo shina—he didn’t change emotionally. He didn’t become desensitized to the kedushah of what he was doing.

This message is especially relevant to us. Too often, our mitzvah observance can become robotic. We do things because we’re supposed to—but the fire isn’t there. The joy is absent. The heart is missing.

We must fight this spiritual numbness. We need to find fresh meaning in our daily observance. Whether it's putting on tefillin, lighting Shabbat candles, or saying Modeh Ani, every mitzvah can—and must—feel alive. Don’t be a religious robot. Be like Aharon. Wake up each day and bring new passion to your connection with Hashem.

A powerful story about Rav Avraham Pam zt”l brings this lesson to life.

A man once approached Rav Pam and explained that his father, who was very ill, had always admired the Rosh Yeshivah deeply. He was now hospitalized and would be overjoyed to see Rav Pam—perhaps one last time. But Rav Pam was a Kohen, and Kohanim are prohibited from entering hospitals if there’s a risk of coming into contact with a corpse.

Yet Rav Pam didn’t let that be the end of the story.

The very next day, the sick man was told to look out of his hospital window for a surprise. As he gazed down several stories, he saw something remarkable—Rav Pam himself, standing outside, smiling and waving with immense warmth and joy.

Though he could not enter the building, Rav Pam had gone out of his way to find the precise spot where he would be visible to the patient. He didn’t have to do this. He was halachically exempt. But like Aharon HaKohen, he performed the mitzvah with thoughtfulness, with care, with heart. He made it meaningful—because that’s what it means to truly serve Hashem.

Let us take this lesson to heart. Don’t let routine numb your soul. Find your way to wave, to light, to serve—with enthusiasm, with joy, and with purpose.

By Aryeh Fingerer