This understanding of avodas Hashem brings to bear two elements. Shame and reluctance to do God’s work – “Who am I to do this sacred task?” – and eagerness and strength to fulfill God’s command. In short, that which is too often perceived as inhibition and insecurity is viewed by Torah as being the exact prerequisite to genuine and true avodas Hashem.
Our rebbe, Rav Asher Freund, zt”l, always emphasized that this is what Dovid HaMelech meant when he said, “For I recognize my transgressions, and my sin is before me always” (Tehillim 109:5).
To be able to see the beauty and sacredness of the world without forgetting one’s own shortcomings – to see the world through the “spectacles of our shortcomings,” so to speak – is the foundation upon which real accomplishment and human excellence can be built. The ability to recognize one’s own deep shortcomings is the stuff of genuine humility. We should never try to fool ourselves – our transgressions are real and they are serious, whether we are rabbis or simple talmidim. None of us can claim to be above our humanity.
Rashi’s comment on this pasuk illuminates this idea. Because I am constantly concerned about my sins, it seems to me the sins are constantly before me. This is what caused Aharon to see the egel as he approached the mizbeach; it is what must color our own self-awareness.
At the consecration of the Mishkan, Moshe publicly proclaimed that Aharon had been divinely appointed as Kohen Gadol. Even so, Aharon remained reticent when the time came to discharge his duties.
“Approach the altar,” Moshe prompted, “and prepare your sin and burnt offerings.”
Aharon remained still. He understood his tasks. They had been assigned by Hashem Himself. It was not confusion that humbled Aharon; rather, it was his own fear and trembling. Shehaya Aharon bosh ve’yare lageshet.
Yet Moshe urged Aharon on. But surely Moshe understood. After all, he himself tried to turn away from his calling at the Burning Bush. “I am not the speaker for this task,” he had protested. Why would he push his brother on when he knew precisely the feelings in his brother’s heart?
In truth, it was because he understood that he insisted his brother act. “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 God.”
The Baal Shem Tov suggested that Moshe’s counsel was essential to Aharon’s role. “Why are you withdrawn, submissive, and unassuming? It is precisely because you possess these qualities that you were chosen to assume the most exalted religious position.”
The Baal Shem Tov taught that modesty, submission, self-abasement, and meekness are true paths to Godliness. These lead to our recognition of why we always need Him. Humility sharpens our focus on our fragile existence even as it prods our intimacy with God. Humility makes us prayerful. Indeed, the humility that left Aharon inhibited and insecure is the very quality that prompted him to perform the avodah so zealously; we read in the next pasuk that “Aharon went up to the altar.”
The Talmud teaches that humility results in the fear of sin. Unsurprisingly, it is pride, not humility, that comes naturally to us. But true humility is not the opposite of pride. Rather, it is a fullness of the gentleness and piety that comes from true fear of sin. Humility is not a single act but a stance, an approach to life that encompasses every aspect of human thought and behavior.
Humility is achieved only through experience. It is the necessary result of an awareness of our profound imperfection. Though we are created in the image of God, we are also formed from the clay of the earth. Whatever we do, wherever we turn, sin, error, and failure await us.