Peace is bought, and the price is animals surrendered to the fire instead of kept. A man does not stumble into right relation with what is above him. He gives up something of value on purpose, and the counted herd, reckoned head by head, is the shape that voluntary giving takes when it is meant. The peace offering is gratitude made costly enough to be believed.
Nahshon goes first. His portion becomes the pattern every leader after him repeats, and the sameness is the point. The good is not a burst of feeling but a form a man enacts deliberately, on his day, in his turn. To reconcile with the order that sustains you, hand over what you would rather hoard.