Subtle Psychology (Shemini)

Parshat Shemini contains the details of the tragedy of the death of Nadav and Avihu. Commentator after commentator, including the sages of the Talmud, piece together details from the brief text in order to understand what the two sons of Aaron did wrong when they brought forth their fire pans during the first service in the Mishkan.

Before one can talk about the deaths of Nadav and Avihu or their father’s reaction to it, it is interesting to look at the underlying insights into Aaron that are subtly woven into Leviticus 9. On first reading the perek, it is easy to focus on “shemini,” on the fact that it was the eighth day and the day of the inauguration of the sacrificial service. But Moshe has to call Aaron forward, address him step by step until he is fully involved in the service, because, according to many commentaries, Aaron was still full of shame and insecurity after his involvement with the Chait Haegel (see Rashi on 9:7).

Any of us who have ever felt insecure or “unworthy” of an honor can relate to what occurred at the end of the first sacrificial ceremony. Moshe had instructed Aaron to inform the people that “today the Lord will appear to you” (9:4), and even explained that “This is what the Lord has commanded that you do, that the Presence of the Lord may appear to you” (9:6). But at the end of the service: “Aaron raised his hands toward the people and blessed them; then he descended from having performed the sin-offering, the elevation-offering, and the peace-offering” (9:22).  Where was the presence of the Lord? One can only imagine how shaken Aaron was, in his heart, that the entire service might have been invalidated by his lack of worthiness. But Moshe did not hesitate at all. “Moshe and Aaron came to the Tent of Meeting, and they went out and they blessed the people and the glory of Hashem appeared to the entire people” (22-23).

Leviticus 9 concludes with a Divine fire consuming the burnt offering and fat parts and the people falling upon their faces in awe.  Now think about what was going on with Aaron and his sons. The day, for them, had been an intense emotional roller coaster. But it worked! The sacrifice had been accepted and they had proven themselves in the role of the Kahuna. For Aaron, a man of peace and a man struggling with accepting the errors of the past, this was a great relief. His sons had watched his struggle, but it wasn’t their struggle. Once it was clear that the incident with the Golden Calf would not be held against their family, they became “intoxicated” with the headiness of the day and stopped thinking about each detail.

“Intoxicated” is an excellent segue to the fact that one of the most well-known commentaries on the deaths of Nadav and Avihu is that they brought their offering while they were intoxicated. The connection is the fact that, several verse later, God Himself instructs Aaron and his two remaining sons that they must never perform the service while under the influence, and yet, based on the verses in Vayikra 9 and their immediate action and death in Vayikra 10, there doesn’t appear to be enough time for them to have gotten drunk. It is possible, however, that Nadav and Avihu were drunk on their own egos, and thus feeling the exaltation and lack of inhibition that people feel when they’ve had a bit to drink.

The text of Vayikra 9, in which Moshe shepherds Aaron through the actions of the day, also influenced his role in Vayikra 10. One could read Moshe’s immediate act of telling Aaron to stay his reaction as being cold and unfeeling. Upon reading Vayikra 10, however, one might feel a sense of awe witnessing Moshe, the devoted brother, rushing around to make certain that his brother was taken care of. He jumps in:

Verse 3: Moshe comforts and restrains Aaron.

Verse 4: Moshe makes immediate arrangements for the bodies, and, in verse 5, they are carried out to his specifications.

Verse 6: Moshe instructs Aaron, Eleazar, and Itamar not to mourn publicly but to allow the kinsmen to do so for them…and, in verse 7, to stay in the entrance of the Tent of Meeting.

Verse 12: Moshe tells Aaron and his two sons to eat the meal offering, giving them very detailed instructions.

Verse 8-11, by the way, is God’s interjection of the prohibition of doing the service while intoxicated and the instruction that the children of Aaron would teach the laws to the Israelites.

Moshe kept Aaron and his two surviving sons busy and moving. This helped maintain the significance of the day for klal Yisrael. One interesting idea found in a book of the Chatam Sofer’s commentaries was that “If Aaron showed over signs of mourning, then any mourning on the part of Klal Yisrael would be interpreted as an indication of sympathy to Aaron, rather than genuine remorse on the passing of these tzaddikim.” 

The death of Nadav and Avihu was both shocking and tragic, all the more so because the idea of the inauguration of the sacrificial service in the Mishkan must remain a day we think about with joy-filled awe. Herein there are many small lessons: helping another person overcome their fears (Moshe and Aaron), the importance of humility (Aaron, Nadav and Avihu), the need of a public leader to be a leader in his family (Moshe), and the incredible strength one can muster in the service of the Divine (Aaron). May we each find the message that is right for us and be inspired by all of the words of the Torah. 

The Word Vayikra (Vayikra)

Vayikra is a difficult sefer. It’s complicated. It’s detail oriented. It’s repetitive. And, perhaps, at the heart of it, it feels foreign because we today live in a Temple-less world and do not relate to the concept of sacrifices. If we were being honest, most of us might admit to being a little freaked out at the idea of witnessing the sacrificial ceremonies.

Today’s Dvar Torah is about Vayikra, just the first verse and, really, just the word itself. The word brings to mind the common Hebrew question of introduction: Mah koreh lach? How are you called? Of course, it’s the same thing, basically, as asking “What is your name?” And, yet, it asks something different. It asks a person to express a personal element that defines them. For instance, my name, legally, is Carolyn, but I am called Sarah Rochel. Or perhaps one is called by a fitting nickname, but that is not their actual name. It gives the person asked the opportunity to present themselves. Perhaps this is why kuf-reish-aleph is also the root of the word that means “to read.” Reading provides insight into a topic the way a person reveals themselves in how they wish to be called.

Vayikra, however, also has a third meaning – he called or he summoned - and this is the meaning of the first word of the parsha. This had additional significance for me after noting that the very first verse actually has three different words that refer to communication. “Vayikra” (and he called), vayidaber (and he spoke), and laymor (saying). He called, he spoke, he said…of these three words, vayikra seems to be the most active and the most intimate, for Moshe was brought close to God by being called. 

Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch actually has a fascinating commentary on this verse: “A call came, and then God spoke to Moshe. This is probably meant to establish the speeches of God to Moshe as the Word of God coming to Moshe” (as opposed to coming from within him) …[thus enforcing that] God’s word to Moshe [was] purely and solely the speech of God. Not from within Moshe, from without, it came to him, called him out of whatever train of thought he might be in at the moment, to listen to what God wished to say to him.”

The names of the parshiot are almost always the first word of the parsha, unless the first word is not particularly significant or defining. For instance, Parsha Vaera begins “Vayidaber Elokim el Moshe Vayomer ailav Ani Hashem. Vaera…” the name of the parsha is the beginning of the second pasuk because the first pasuk was not distinctive enough, and yet this parsha, this entire sefer, is named with the word Vayikra. 

“And He called to Moshe and God spoke to him…” God calling Moshe to the Tent of Meeting to talk to him, to teach him all of the rules of the service of Hashem, is significant. Perhaps because through the avodah Bnei Yisrael is being offered a unique means of connecting to the Divine. God called to Moshe and taught him the ways in which His people can call out to God.

Commandments in the Singular (Pekudei)

In Exodus 40, Hashem instructs Moshe when and how the Tabernacle will be set up. It is quite obvious from all that has been written that creating the Mishkan was a big job. There were large pieces and small pieces and notches to fit together and strings to be tied. When beginning the perek, it is easy to assume that Hashem was giving Moshe the instructions that he should pass on to the Children of Israel. But pasuk 16 make it clear: “This Moshe did, just as the Lord had commanded him so he did. Moshe set up the Tabernacle, placing its sockets, setting up its planks, inserting its bars, and erecting its posts” (40:16-17). The entirety of the description of the setting up of the Mishkan is written in third person singular. Moshe truly did “just as the Lord commanded,” for Hashem told Moshe “On the first day of the first month you shall set up the Tabernacle of the Tent of Meeting,” using the word ‘takim,’ which is second person singular.

What is the take-away is from the fact that Moshe was singularly commanded in the set-up of the Mishkan and that he did it himself in one day – in fact, the Midrash tells us that he set it up and took it apart every day for 7 days. As a mom to a busy family, I honestly think...well, I guess I may be able to accomplish more than I am giving myself room to do.

Looking deeper, perhaps Hashem was providing a very subtle lesson about leadership. The people donated the material for the mishkan and put their hard work and creativity into the pieces of the Mishkan, but Moshe, as the leader, was ultimately responsible for showing them how to put it together, to show them how to make it work. More than that, putting the Mishkan together was a big job and by Moshe doing it first, himself, he was showing all those who would ultimately be involved, exactly how important and doable the job was and would be. The physical toil of putting together the Mishkan was just as important as the karbanot. Perhaps that can be translated into an idea that physically or materially supporting the Torah community is as fundamental to our spiritual survival as the avodas of learning.

Fire and Water (Vayakhel)

I have written about Parshat Vayakhel numerous times in connection with my work at NJOP and its annual Shabbat Across America and Canada program, so I set about reading the parsha expecting to be challenged finding a topic about which to write. I was wrong, as I so often am when I make assumptions about the parshiot. In fact, I was only three verses in when I stopped and reconsidered the importance of the verse: “You shall not kindle a fire throughout your settlements on Shabbat day” (Exodus 35:3). 

While this does not seem like a particularly interesting verse, it is interesting in light of its following “On six days work may be done, but on the seventh day you shall have a sabbath of complete rest, holy to the Lord; whoever does any work on it shall be put to death” (35:2) – the only two verses about Shabbat in a chapter that otherwise focuses on the making of the items for the Mishkan. Commentaries on these verses abound, and there are many sages who also wondered why kindling a fire was singled out. Many commentaries focus on the entire pasuk, on how the verse is there to specify how kindling a fire is separate and different from the other 39 melachot, and therefore has different consequences. Others focus on the uniqueness of the activity of kindling a fire, such as Sefarno says: “Even though, generally speaking, lighting a fie is not a productive but a destructive activity, seeing that it is an almost indispensable ingredients in most activities that Torah prohibited it as unsuitable for Shabbat.”

The Hebrew word for kindling, however, is actually rather interesting: Beis – Ayin – Reish. In this pasuk: tiva’aru. (It’s a fairly recognizable root given the quickly approaching time for Biur Chametz, burning the chametz.) The root of the word tiva’aru is strikingly similar to a word connected to another one of the primary elements: b’air, a well, which has the shoresh of Beis – Aleph – Reish. Aleph and Ayin are notably connected. What might the connection be between kindling fire and a well of water. One interesting thought is that they are both mankind’s means for controlling nature. Fires can happen naturally, usually by something like a lightning strike, and water flows where it wishes too. But mankind learned to kindle, to call forth a flame, on his own, and mankind learned to dig deep into the earth to find the water essential for his survival. Both acts are inherently creative in their harnessing nature.

On the other hand, fire and water are opposing elements that can co-exist near each other, but not together. Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch says about this verse: “But, on the other hand, the ability to produce fire artificially is just that which first gave Man his true mastery over the materials of the world. Only by fire can he create his tools, can he analytically and synthetically probe into the inner nature of things.” Fire is connected to the actions that mankind uses to control the physical world. What about water? Water is connected to the spiritual; Torah is mayim chaim, living water or the source that sustains the Jewish people. The Jewish ideal is for a person to balance their neshama and their guf, two elements that coexist and yet, ideally need to remain unique so one does not quell or evaporate the other. On Shabbas, on the day we are meant to strive for our deepest connection with Hashem, it is the time of mayim, water, spiritually, and it is not the time for kindling fire, for striving to control the natural world and focusing on the physical. – May we all find the perfect balance of the elements in which we live.