By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D.
EL CAJON, California — This week’s parsha, Naso, is the longest in the Torah with 176 verses. Naso begins with a curious command: “Lift the heads of the Gershonites also, by their ancestral house and by their clans.” The Hebrew word for “lift”—naso—gives this portion its name. At first glance, it’s a census directive. But in the rich inner language of Torah, words don’t just mean what they say—they point to deeper layers.
Naso means “to lift,” but this very root also forms the word for marriage—nissuin. The connection isn’t incidental. In the Torah’s deeper teachings, marriage isn’t just a legal bond—it’s a union of seeming opposites: masculine and feminine, giver and receiver, self and other. And the ability to hold these contrasts without collapsing into conflict is known in Chassidic and Kabbalistic thought as nesi’at hafachim—the “carrying of opposites.”
This isn’t about ignoring contradiction. It’s about becoming spacious enough inside to carry it. Where our minds seek resolution and certainty, our hearts—when open—can hold paradox without panic. It can live with tension without demanding it to dissolve. This, say the sages, is what spiritual growth is meant to cultivate: not the elimination of inner conflict, but the elevation of the soul until it becomes a vessel wide enough to bear life’s contradictions without breaking.
And so, in this light, Naso isn’t just about counting a family line. It’s about cultivating the capacity to “lift” each other—to raise human consciousness into a state where we don’t need everything to make perfect sense to be fully engaged, loving, and present. At its heart, this parsha invites us into the sacred art of holding opposites—and letting that tension refine us. How? Let’s look a bit more deeply into this week’s lessons.
We are introduced to the Birkat Kohanim, the “Priestly Blessing.” We’re all familiar with it. We’ve heard it said, recited it ourselves, and offered it to others, many times:
| May the Lord bless you and watch over you. | |
| May the Lord cause His countenance to shine to you and favor you. | |
| May the Lord raise His countenance toward you and grant you peace. |
And we say, “Baruch shem k’vod malchuto l’olam vaed, “Blessed be the name of God’s glorious kingdom for all eternity.” After all, Hashem is the source of all our blessings.
This may well be one of our oldest prayer texts that we continue to use in contemporary times. For those who look carefully, you’ll see the growing meaning and increasing power in these words and letters. From 3 words, it grows to 5 words, and then to 7 words. It grows from 15 letters to 20 letters, to 25 letters. From being watched over, to the ultimate gift for a healthy life, peace, this b’racha points us to what really matters – especially essential during these chaotic, threatening, stressful times – Hashem’s intervention and His earthly benefits. Being blessed in both our spiritual and physical lives is, after all, what truly matters.
Perhaps chaos, threat and stress may also be seen as blessings, an indication of Hashem redirecting, not rejecting, or rebuffing our lives. Those with trust and faith see blessings in our times, and focus on where peace will come from, as we are taught in the Birkat Kohanim. He will grant us peace. Look inside of this prayer and you will reaffirm an important insight, that we live in both a physical and spiritual world. You will see both physical and spiritual benefits seeded within each of the prayer’s lines.
A life of favor, vichuneka, anchored in the word chein or grace, is a different life than one filled with materialism. The b’racha seems to begin with blessings of materialism and then moves beyond that…as we would be wise to do as well.
In my work I often help people cope with ambiguity, uncertainty and adversity. But the scale of antisemitism that has swept over our Jewish world—our narratives, our communities, our very sense of safety—has felt seismic. Many of us have been living in a low and even a high-grade state of emotional hypervigilance. It’s as though our nervous systems have forgotten how to exhale.
And yet—there is still a path to well-being. Not one that ignores pain, but one that insists on lifting up blessing in the midst of pain.
Our tradition does not ask us to be naïve. It asks us to be courageous. Courage in Jewish life has always meant blessing others even when you yourself feel shaky. The Kohanim—our ancient spiritual caretakers—were given a special formula for this: Birkat Kohanim, the priestly blessing. And this week, as we read Naso, we receive those words once again. Not as passive recipients, but as inheritors of the power to offer blessing ourselves.
Let’s pause here. I’m not just talking about saying something nice. I mean blessing as a daily spiritual-psychological practice—one that fosters emotional resilience, community connection, and inner calm. In the Torah, Hashem tells Moses to instruct Aaron and his sons to bless the people, and in doing so, Hashem says: “I Myself will bless them.” (Numbers 6:27)
In other words: when you bless another, you are not only being kind. You are becoming a conduit for Hashem. Judaism has long had its torchbearers—priests, prophets, rabbis, and educators—guiding the way through history. The flame is now in all our own hands, and it’s our turn to carry the light forward, each of us illuminating a piece of the path ahead.
But here’s the secret: blessing has a sequence. Nehama Leibowitz teaches that this three-part formula begins with material well-being—“May G-d bless and protect you”—then moves toward grace and favor, and ends with shalom, which means more than peace; it means wholeness, integration, and inner alignment.
Psychologically, this is a blueprint for mental health. Without safety and basic provision, it’s hard to open ourselves to grace. Without grace, it’s hard to imagine peace. But as the blessing ascends—physically, emotionally, spiritually—it creates a path for healing, even in our deeply fractured, dangerous, times.
So how do we make this real in a practical way?
Tip 1: Start with Protection
Ask yourself each day: Who around me needs to feel safe right now?
Safety is a spiritual necessity. Help someone feel protected—emotionally, physically, financially. Offer reassurance. Offer presence. Show up.
Tip 2: Extend Grace
After protection comes graciousness. That can mean patience, empathy, or gentleness. Practice chesed—acts of lovingkindness that aren’t earned but offered freely. Grace dissolves shame and restores dignity.
Tip 3: Build Peace with Your Hands
The Ramban suggests that Aaron may have lifted his hands toward heaven rather than toward the people. If so, the blessing begins not with Aaron, but with Hashem—flowing through him rather than from him. This image invites a different understanding: blessing isn’t just given, it’s received and relayed. When we stretch our hands toward others, we honor their humanity. When we lift them upward, we acknowledge our need for something beyond ourselves. And perhaps that lifted gesture is a quiet call to action—that blessing others isn’t only about words, but about what we do with our own hands in the world. Aaron “lifted his hands” when he blessed the people. Maybe that was a gesture toward heaven. Or maybe it was a reminder: don’t just say the blessing—be the blessing, do a blessing.
Make a meal. Walk someone through a hard day. Help shoulder their burden, not with advice, but with care. Real peace isn’t declared. It’s constructed.
Tip 4: Customize the Blessing
Don’t just rely only on ancient words. Use your own. Ask someone, “What would feel like a blessing to you today?” Then speak it. Better yet, live it and do it.
Tip 5: Allow Yourself to Receive
You, too, are in need. So many of us are caught in the role of helper, caregiver, healer. But a burned-out soul can’t carry light. Let others bless you. Let Hashem bless you. Notice small acts of kindness as moments of spiritual restoration.
I don’t know what the world will look like by the time these words reach you. But I do know this: the practice of blessing—through words, through deeds, through heartful intention—is always available.
You don’t need to be a priest to lift your hands. You just need to be willing.
So, this week, bless with your voice. Bless with your time. Bless with your hands and your legs. And may we all, together, move one step closer to wholeness.
May you feel safe, held, graced, and whole.
Supporting and lifting those who are vulnerable, speaking and acting against injustice, remaining strong and never backing down in the face of “evil,” standing against divisiveness and dissension among all, are indicators that we take the blessings in Naso very seriously. It’s more than reciting words. It’s putting our entire self into serving others and ultimately thereby serving Hashem. We learn in Shemos, 19:6, that we are all to be Mamleches Kohanim, a kingdom of priests, people who are Oheiv shalom v’rodeif shalom, with the desire and ability to seek and build peace, the ultimate gift of Hashem’s blessings.
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Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D., prepares a weekly D’var Torah for Young Israel of San Diego, where he and his family are members. They are also active members of Congregation Adat Yeshurun.