I always wondered about the motivation of someone who runs a marathon and comes in at last place. The amiable couple in their sixties, ambling together towards the finish line--what made them do it? Each year some 36,000
people line up to participate in the New York City Marathon, a grueling 26-mile route that snakes through all five boroughs of the city. Of those thousands,
only one will come out in front. Why do people run the marathon, knowing that they have no chance of coming in one of the top ten or even the top thousand?
I did a little research, reading first-person accounts of marathon runners.
For one thing, completing a marathon is hardly a walk in the park. All the
runners, even those who finish in last place, prepare for weeks in advance with
fitness training. There's a vast difference between runner--even the one who
finishes last--and the spectators on the sidelines. Neither of them has any
hopes of winning the race. The participants, though, have an inner contentment
and sense of satisfaction. They're in the race. For them, just completing the
marathon itself is a badge of courage and pride, and they have no need for an
external trophy.
The Torah portion of Behaalotecha (Numbers 8-12) describes the
encampment of the Jewish people in the desert, and the manner in which they
traveled. After hearing the signal sounded by special silver trumpets, the
twelve tribes of Israel packed up their camp, lined up in a designated order,
and marched forth into the desert. The tribe of Dan always marched last.
Their job was to bring up the rear and gather up any objects left behind--missing socks, perhaps, or lost children. They picked up after everyone else.
It's not a very glorious role. Not nearly as impressive as leading the
tribes, like Judah, or carrying the holy vessels like the Levites. But it was a
job that needed to get done.
Chassidic teachings explain that in addition to maintaining the baggage claim
department, the Danites also ran a different type of "lost and found." There's
something that people can lose when they're out in the front, soaking up all the
glory. They can lose perspective. They can lose their sensitivity to others and
awareness of their own fallibility. The Danites were able to return this to the
tribes who were out in front. They were in last place but they were in the race,
eyes on the goal. Without any fanfare, they did what needed doing and stayed
focused on the needs of others. With a wonderful blend of self-effacement and
self-esteem, they felt no need to get ahead. They knew they were doing exactly
what G-d needed from them.
The Danites are my inspiration, especially on those days when I'm in a slump
and it seems that the world is passing me by. The days that no one returns my
phone calls or reads my emails, and I feel like I'm the bottom of the heap. I'm
so far behind in the social stratum that keeping up with the Jones' or the
Greenbergs is not even a realistic possibility.
But maybe today there's someone who needs a smile from me or is losing their
balance, and I can help them find it. Maybe someone out there needs a friend who
will return their phone calls and respond to their e-mails. There's a
little child right here who needs my full attention while he tells me about his
day. I'm chugging along in last place, the wind blowing in my face. Nothing is
important, everything is important. I'm coming in last but I'm in the race.
