The Parasha talks about how Aharon HaKohen lit the candles of the menorah every single day for 40 years.
At the end of his life, as we know, Moshe Rabbenu is told to take Aharon onto the mountain, and put him to rest in very respectful fashion. In the cave waiting for them was a table and a golden menorah and it was sealed.
Aharon got a מיתת נשיקה (literally , death by a kiss from Hashem ) the most beautiful type of death, where Hashem came close to him and removed his soul.
The Zohar adds a beautiful thought.
The Zohar asks, why the stress on the menorah? It answers:
וּמִדִּידֵיהּ נָטִיל, מֵהַהוּא מְנַרְתָּא דְּהֲוָה דָּלִיק בְּכָל יוֹמָא תְּרֵי זִמְנֵי
He took from his own. From that same menorah, for every day that he lit the Morah- that’s the menorah that was there for him forever.
וּמִדִּידֵיהּ נָטִיל Two powerful words: “He took from his own.”
That means we go through life doing mitzvot and we don’t always realize that Hashem doesn’t need our work- we need it. Aharon had been lighting the candles - but for whom? He was lighting for himself, where in Olam Habah he will benefit forever and ever.
The Hovot HaLevavot, our hero, in separate section called Shaar HaBechina פרק ג- brings a beautiful Mashal for what our view of life should be.
He says there were two brothers who inherited a plot of land from their father, which they split. One brother was very wise and energetic and one was lazy. The wise one realized that if he just focused solely on the field, he couldn’t survive. But on the other hand, if he just worked for someone else he’d never have anything for his family. So he worked for someone else in a local restaurant and at night he worked the field. He pruned it, worked it and developed it. Finally the season came, and he had fruit for the second year, which he sold, invested the money, and eventually he became independent. The foolish brother also realized the land wasn’t enough to support himself, but he just ignored it. In the end it became overgrown with weeds and nothing came of it.
The Nimshal is that we in this world are like are like these two brothers. Some people realize and understand that “whatever I do here is really not for me - I’m doing it because I need a job to support my family, but it’s just a job like like the fellow the kitchen. But what’s my real house?”
The Hovot HaLevavot tells us:
יתבונן ממנו עניני אחריתו, אשר היא ביתו באמת, ויעשה לה בכל יכלתו.
Think about your final destination, that is your real house. And that’s where your emphasis should be.
When you work in this world it’s like you’re doing it for someone else.
What’s your real world? It’s a powerful concept and it’s an outlook on life.
Rabbi Ashear quotes a beautiful mashal from the work Torah Tavlin that relates to this:
There was once a successful contractor who employed an outstanding carpenter to work on his building projects. One day, the carpenter came to the contractor to inform him that he had decided to retire. He explained that he felt grateful for all the work he has given him over the years, but his wife very much wants him to retire so he could spend time with the family. The contractor pleaded with him to change his mind, telling him that he was his best worker and he really depended on him.
“Sorry,” the carpenter said, “my mind is made up.”
The contractor explained that he had just committed to another project, to build a home, and he needed him for that project. He asked if the carpenter would agree to work on this one final project before retiring. The carpenter, knowing that building this home could take a year, went home and talked it over with his wife, who urged him to decline. The carpenter felt torn between his family and his commitment to his employer, and in the end, with a heavy heart, decided he would agree to work on this final project.
He began the work, and proceeded without much patience or eye for detail. Rushing to finish the project so he could retire, the carpenter did his work sloppily, and the project which should have taken a year was completed after seven months. The roof was crooked, there were cracks in the floor and leaks from the windows, and some of the tiles were the wrong size.
He returned to the contractor to inform him that the job was done. The contractor handed him the keys to the house and said, “Here – this is your going away present.”
The carpenter was stunned – and infuriated at himself. Had he known that he was building this house for himself, he would have worked with such diligence and done everything to perfection. But he didn’t, and so he ended up with a house with leaks and cracks and mismatched tiles.
If we knew that the mitzvot we perform are for ourselves, and not for G-d, that we are “building” our own “home” through our avodat Hashem, we would invest so much more into our religious observance. The next time we feel that mitzvot are a burden, we must remember that we are building our own home, and we are working not for Hashem, but for ourselves.