| Though I try to avoid self-absorbed public navel-gazing, I will risk starting on a personal note. I volunteered to write the mini-drash for Shmini because I recently made the proper date calculation to figure out my correct Bar-Mitzvah parsha (17 Adar II, 5752), and this was it. Why I didn’t know this before isn’t worth recounting here, but I decided this would be a good opportunity to delve into the parsha. So as I read it, I was more than usually attuned to possible personal interpretations that I might find and meanings that I might glean for my own spiritual path. And it was thus that I came across one of the more mysterious and poignant and troubling passages contained in the Torah – the deaths of Aaron’s sons Nadav and Avihu. After the dedication of the mishkan and the public seven-day inauguration of Aaron and his sons into the priesthood, we begin Parashat Shmini with another series of sacrifices, culminating with the appearance of the glorious presence of Hashem before all the people. What an awesome, wonderful, celebratory moment! The sin of the golden calf finally behind them, all the people sing with joy and prostrated themselves. It is here that Nadav and Avihu offer their strange/foreign fire, which Hashem did not command. They are immediately consumed by a fire that “issued forth from before Hashem.” The parallel language here is striking. Just a few verses earlier, when Aaron had successfully finished his sacrifices and the people saw the glory of Hashem, we read the same phrase word for word: vatetze esh milifnei Hashem, vatochal – “fire issued from before Hashem and consumed” (ate up) the offering. In that instance, it is clearly a sign that the sacrifices had found favor and acceptance with Hashem. If so, does that mean that Nadav and Avihu themselves became a sacrificial offering? Wasn’t the whole point of our sacrificial rites to underscore that Hashem was opposed to human sacrifice? If indeed that’s the case, why are the brothers punished so swiftly and completely, and in this way? What was it that made their foreign fire so intolerable? I think we might begin to find the answer in the equally mysterious response that Moshe makes to the deaths of the two brothers, telling Aaron that “this [event must be] what Hashem spoke of, saying by those near me I will make holy/be made holy” (the verb tense can have both meanings). To make holy is to set apart and to establish boundaries, to define what is acceptable and what is not in a certain context. Hashem is hamavdil bein kodesh lechol - he who differentiates between the holy and the ordinary. And thus for Nadav and Avihu, as newly-inaugurated priests, being very aware of that distinction had to be job number one. When the Torah tells us that the strange fire was one that Hashem had not commanded, it’s clear that Nadav and Avihu knew this. So they improvised and used a little creative license in bringing an offering. Is that so offensive? Another hint of what was amiss comes a few verses later, when Hashem speaks to Aaron directly, warning him and his sons against having wine and alcohol when they perform their services (“so that you will not die” says Hashem! more on this in a moment). Were Nadav and Avihu perhaps intoxicated when they brought their strange fire? Perhaps literally, from celebrating with the people, or figuratively “drunk” with religious zeal? If so, we seem to have a very clear statement from Hashem that religious zeal can be expressed in unacceptable ways. The warning “so that you will not die” appears several times in the preceding chapters, particularly when Moshe is describing the various details and duties of the priesthood to Aaron and his sons. With Nadav and Avihu we see why that warning is necessary: doing anything other than what you are commanded will bring the fire of Hashem against you. Most simply, then, this episode reads as a stern reminder that we must be very careful, precise and stringent with our observance of mitzvot. More broadly, it is the story of the Jewish people in microcosm: keep my mitzvot, says Hashem to the children of Israel, and you will become a holy nation, a kingdom of priests and a moral light unto the world. So that you will not die. Is Nadav and Avihu’s lack of caution simply the result of being “new on the job,” and priestly inexperience? Could they be expected to get everything perfect the first time? Isn’t their punishment disproportionate? Maybe not. Maybe they were indeed expected to get everything exactly right. Not so long ago, the nation was worshipping a golden calf. The mishkan and its sacrifices and all the details of its service (and all the 613 mitzvot) are an antidote to sliding back into such immorality. Aaron and his sons were specifically trained to carry out the sacrifices on behalf of the whole community. They got very specific instructions. To avoid another golden calf disaster, they would be the guardians and keepers of the right way of doing things, so improvisation and creativity, in this context, are not as desirable as we might think. Because the kohanim are commanded to carry out the sacrifices, they are in a position of authority and responsibility, and many commentators agree that Nadav and Avihu’s fate highlights the fact that those with authority or responsibility are held to a higher standard. The priests are also the educated class with very detailed training, so the same holds true for education and knowledge – learning brings with it greater responsibility and being held to a higher standard. Which brings me back to the personal dimension with which I started. The opportunities for learning and Jewish growth that Beth Jacob provides are unparalleled, as we all know. I happen to be a complete “learning junkie” – I crave new knowledge all the time on almost any subject. Which lately has meant taking advantage of many modes of Jewish learning in our community. The parsha reminds me that simply learning and gathering knowledge is not enough – action must follow. Once in possession of knowledge, a higher standard applies. May we each continue on the path toward deeper knowledge of Hashem and a closer relationship with the divine. Shabbat shalom. |
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