When the plane landed upon our return from a recent teaching trip, the pilot announced that he had both good news and bad news. The good news was that we had arrived early, well ahead of schedule. The bad news was that we arrived early, well ahead of schedule. He explained that our early arrival, desirable as it was, meant that there was no gate available at which to disembark. We would have to wait for almost half an hour to be let off the plane. The observation that a given situation can be simultaneously good and bad brought to mind the korban tamid, the daily offering that was brought in the Beis Hamikdash morning and evening, without fail. Even on Shabbos and Yom Tov, when special Musaf offerings were added for the special occasion, the daily tamid came first, preempting all the others. At first glance this seems counterintuitive. One would think that the sacrifices of the special holiday would be given priority over those that are done on a regular basis. Weighing in on this practice, however, the commentators explain that the lesson to be derived is that a person needs to value and appreciate, first and foremost, that which is consistent and regular. But there is a pitfall. Rav Yosef Salant, zt”l, cautions that when something is done day in and day out it eventually comes to be done by rote, its performance automatic and stale. In a recent piece Rabbi Frand, shlita, cites the example of a bar mitzvah boy putting on tefillin for the first time. How very exciting and heartwarming is this milestone event for him, his parents and relatives. Subsequently, though, when it turns into a tamid, a recurrent feature of his life, it becomes old hat and is taken for granted.
Unquestionably, there is an unfortunate tendency on the part of all human beings to treat whatever is done regularly with a cavalier attitude. Consider Debbie, who with great pain lamented the fact that her husband seldom noticed her herculean efforts to provide a pleasant environment for him—a put-together spouse, a clean and neat home, a delicious dinner, etc.—efforts that because of their consistency he had come to expect. To her chagrin, she felt that he was not even aware of her efforts, let alone acknowledging them or giving her positive feedback.A similar case was David, whose wife Sarah was threatening to leave the marriage because of what she saw as a lack of emotional nurturing from her husband. When confronted with this criticism, David admitted this shortcoming and vowed that he would work harder to meet her legitimate need. Sarah, on the other hand, had to be reminded that she too had overlooked the fact that David was a good provider and worked long and hard to give her that which she had come to take for granted. Another not uncommon scenario is that of Aaron, a recent widower who shared sadly that since his wife’s passing it has been the seemingly “little things” that bring him to tears. He could not believe that something as insignificant as unloading the dishwasher could set him off. Aaron explained that it was his wife’s routine contributions, her “korban tamid” for the sake of the marriage that he had failed to appreciate sufficiently. To paraphrase the pilot’s words, consistency has the potential to be both good news and bad news. Good news, because the occasional flashes and shimmer of something new, as exciting as they may be, cannot compete in value with the dependable staples of our daily existence. The korban tamid exhorts us to open our eyes to the ongoing gifts and blessings that surround us every day, such as our loved ones and relationships.
At the same time, we need to be vigilant of the bad news, the tendency to walk mindlessly among daily miracles, oblivious to the wonderful blessings that Hashem lavishes upon us. It is noteworthy that in our daily prayers, specifically in the Birchos Hashachar, we thank Hashem for our ability to see, “pokei’ach ivrim,” “Who gives sight to the blind.” Shortly thereafter we recite a blessing that seems to be redundant, “Who removes the sleep from my eyes and slumber from my eyelids.” The commentaries provide us with a profound explanation. In the first brachah we thank Hashem for our physical vision, the ability to see. In the second, we thank Hashem for insight, for the ability to register that which we see and allow it to transform our lives, if we so choose. Surrounded by so much moment-to-moment good in our daily lives, the challenge is to have the good sense to remove our blinders and gratefully celebrate our blessings. We must be extremely cautious not to succumb to the pitfall of sight without insight—i.e., the danger of allowing G-d’s daily offerings in our lives to be taken for granted. Hopefully, very soon, with the advent of the third Beis Hamikdash, the renewed korban tamid will infuse our hearts with a growing appreciation for our ever-present blessings.