“First is the best and last is the worst” goes a childhood refrain. After all, being the first to invent the light bulb or win the race can win you fame and fortune. But sometimes, being first can be incredibly uncomfortable.
It’s hard to be Nachshon, take that plunge, and be the first with water up to your nostrils. But one could argue that Nachshon had it a little easy. He jumped in, and the sea split. Sometimes, when you jump in, it takes a while – years even – before the sea splits. In the meantime, you face social consequences for being first; you can often be considered to be a weirdo or strange.
Nineteenth century Hungarian physician Ignaz Semmelweis, who suggested that doctors need to wash their hands between seeing patients, was condemned as a quack, and summarily fired from his position. According to myth, when Sara Schenirer started her first school, she had rocks thrown at her in protest.
Lots of people who did things that ultimately led to our world being safer, better, and stronger had to put up with much mockery and criticism. Maybe that’s why, in the olden days, the bachor, the first child, was entitled to a double portion. Maybe they had it a little harder having to do everything first in their family, while the kids that followed got to walk along well-trodden ground.
Imagine how people at shul might have thought of Dr. Semmelweis or Sara Schenirer before their first, new, groundbreaking ideas were proved to be successful. Would they consider their kids good shidduch prospects?
