Because You Matter: What Leviim Teach Us About Community
In the 1920s, an electric company called Hawthorne Works in Illinois ran a series of experiments to see how they could help their workers be more productive. First, they tried changing the lighting in the factory—and productivity went up. But after the experiment ended, the improvements disappeared. They tried other changes too—breaks, shorter hours, new routines—but again, the workers only improved while being observed.
Eventually, researchers realized it wasn’t the changes that worked—it was the fact that the workers knew they were being watched. When someone was paying attention to their efforts, they worked better. Today, this is called the “Hawthorne Effect.” It reminds us that people often perform better when they know their work matters and is appreciated.
This idea connects to a major shift in the Jewish people’s journey that we read about in this week’s Parsha, Beha’aloscha. In earlier generations, the firstborn sons in each family were assigned to serve in the Mishkan (portable Temple)—the spiritual center of the nation, but in this parsha, we learn that a new group, the tribe of Levi, was chosen instead to take on that responsibility.
Why the change? The commentators present different reasons, but one approach is that this new system was designed to work better for the long term. The tribe of Levi was set aside from the rest of the people so they could be fully dedicated to spiritual service, without the distractions of land ownership, farming, or daily work. In exchange, the rest of the Jewish people supported them by giving a portion of their crops and produce. It wasn’t charity—it was a partnership.
This arrangement made sense: imagine trying to run the religious center of all Jewry like the Beis HaMikdash (Holy Temple In Jerusalem) with staff who have to leave in the middle to milk their cows or fix their fences. The Leviim (Levites) didn’t own land, and they didn’t need to farm. Their job was to serve, teach, guard, and uplift the community and the community’s job was to make sure they had what they needed to do that.
This leads us to an important observation: the Leviim didn’t just serve on behalf of the community; the community actively appointed them. The people placed their hands on the Leviim in a symbolic act that said: “We are counting on you. We’re trusting you to represent us.” And in turn, the Leviim were expected to carry that responsibility with care and precision.
Later, the Torah even explains that this wasn’t just about technical service, it was about protecting the people. If untrained individuals served in the Mishkan, it could lead to mistakes with serious consequences. The Leviim were trained, careful, and consistent. Their role wasn’t just ritual, it was about preserving the integrity of a nation.
All of this teaches a bigger lesson: spiritual leadership and communal service are not private jobs; they are public responsibilities. The Leviim didn’t replace the people in their service, they served on behalf of the people, with the people’s full support and partnership.
Today, we don’t have a Mishkan (portable Temple), or a Beis HaMikdash in Jerusalem and we don’t give crops to Leviim, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t need people who are dedicated to serving the Jewish people—teachers, leaders, chesed volunteers, Torah learners, outreach workers, and community builders. In addition, we need a system that helps those people feel supported and appreciated.
Some of that support comes in the form of donations or community involvement, but support can also look like showing up for a class, helping make a minyan, inviting someone who’s new to town, encouraging a friend to come to a program or offering a ride or volunteering your time.
Just like in the Hawthorne Effect, people do their best when they know someone notices and cares. The spiritual work of our community thrives when more of us are involved—when we’re not just watching but participating. In the Torah’s vision, everyone had a role. Some people taught, others gave, and others served. No one was left out. Jewish life isn’t the life of a spectator, it’s a system–a system of partnership.
The question today is not if you are a Levi, the question we all need to ask ourselves is what can I contribute to help my community flourish? We all have something to give, and we’ are the only ones who can choose to give it.
Good Shabbos