Parshas Shemini: Death with Meaning

This week’s parsha, Parshas Shemini, contains one of the most unsettling narratives in the Torah: The death of Aaron’s sons. The parsha describes the activities of the inauguration of the Mishkan on the eighth day after its completion. In the middle of the long inauguration service, Aaron’s sons, “Nadav and Abihu each took his fire pan, put fire in it, and laid incense on it; and they offered before Hashem foreign fire, which had not been enjoined upon them.” (Vayikara 10:1). Their motivation is examined and discussed by the sages and throughout the commentaries of all ages. There are those who condemn them for levity or intoxication, and there are those who focus on their misplaced inspiration. Whatever the reason for their bringing an offering that had not been required, the result was the same: “And fire came forth from Hashem and consumed them; thus they died before Hashem”(10:2).

It is obvious why this story is upsetting. Aaron’s sons died - publicly, dramatically, and in the middle of the most auspicious ceremony Klal Yisrael had endeavored upon. Even more discomforting for many people is the fact that Aaron and his two remaining sons could not stop the inauguration and absorb their shock. They had to go forward and complete the inauguration before reacting to the loss of their immediate family members, which is odd in itself because in Jewish tradition the death of an immediate relative puts one in a state of limbo until the burial of the body as soon as possible. 

Jewish tradition has one of the most comprehensive and compassionate rituals of mourning. From the period of aninus, when a person is not required in mitzvos until the burial of the dead and official start of mourning, through the staggered stages of shiva, shloshim and the annual yahrtzeit, the mourning is guided. While these practices seem to be primarily for the emotional benefit of the immediate family, they are understood to benefit the neshama as well. 

Surely, Nadav and Abihu had not erred to such a level that their deaths should be ignored. Surely, their father and brothers felt the pain of loss that is at the heart of the state of aninus. 

Beyond the fact that Aaron, Elazar, and Itamar were in the middle of invoking kedusha into Mishkan, there was something unique about Nadav and Abihu’s passing. Let us look again at the final phrase of 10:2 - “vayamootu lphnei Hashem - and they died before Hashem”(10:2).

Hashem sent a fire that consumed them, which is a pretty definite statement of their being killed. Why does it need to state that they “died before Hashem,” which is not common phraseology at all?

This question is mulled over by many commentators, as is what it meant exactly that they were consumed. For instance, Chizkuni notes:

וימותו לפני ה, “They died in the presence of the Lord. [This is an unusual expression. Are we not all, at any given moment, “in the Presence” of the Lord?] Rabbi Eliezer says this expression teaches that they did not die until having left the sacred precincts and being in the antechamber where Levites were permitted. We have proof of this from verse 4 where the cousins of these brothers, by the names of Mishael and Eltzafan were charge with removing their bodies from there for burial. But why did the Torah say that they died before the Lord (i.e. inside the Tabernacle)? Perhaps they did die there but later an angel pushed the bodies outside to where the Levites were permitted. Rabbi Akiva on the other hand said that they did die inside the Tabernacle. Since they were still wearing their garments which had not been burned by the heavenly fire, their cousins hooked their spears into the outer garments and dragged them until they were outside the sacred parts of the Tabernacle.

 

This is a very practical exploration of the language, but there is a spiritual side as well.  Nadav and Abihu were killed because they acted of their own accord. They brought incense when it wasn’t specifically called for during a very detailed inauguration. Their intention was to honor Hashem, to celebrate Hashem. There was no intention of disrespect or mockery or even vanity. They truly wished to draw closer to Hashem, as is understood by the majority of the commentaries. 

During the inauguration of the mishkan, it was incredibly important, however, that the nation not be shown a hefker observance, an anarchy of emotional reaction of set structure. The Mishkan, the place of ultimate holiness and service to Hashem, had to be respected completely, and on this first day of usage, the point needed to be driven home that their “inspiration” did not negate rules and order. 

On the other hand, their death was, perhaps, an embrace of Hashem. As Rabbeinu Bahya notes ”…The kind of death described here by the words ‘in the presence of the Lord’ means that their body and soul underwent a ‘surgical’ separation, the fire entering their bodies through their nostrils separating soul from body. We must be careful not to understand the verse as saying that their souls were burned, i.e. that they lost their claim to the hereafter. If that were so the words, “by those very close to Me I become sanctified,” which Moses told Aaron in G’d’s name, would not make any sense. Why should the souls of people G’d describes as close to Him be destroyed, burned?”

As humans, as survivors, as the ones who are left behind after a death, we have a hard time seeing the positive for the neshama. We are focussed on what we have lost. Protecting life is the ultimate goal - the primary instinct is, afterall, the survival instinct - because only in life can our neshama grow and flourish. The more our neshama can grow here in Olam Hazeh, the more it will be able to receive the Divine presence in Olam HaBah, and so we focus on the potential of life without, usually, remembering that death also frees the neshama from its battle, or better competition, with the goof, with one’s physical needs and desires. 

When reading parashas Shemini, our immediate reaction is based on our mindset of death as a complete negative. Perhaps, however, from the words that tell us that Nadav and Abihu died before Hashem we are reminded that death is the doorway to a higher plane of existence (when we are ready, ad mesh v’esrim for each of you who reads this!)

 

Wishing you all a good Shabbas.

 

Pesach End Days: Understated with Purpose

Why is this night different from all other nights? That famous question may be special to the Seder, but it is also extremely appropriate for tonight. The answer is that tonight (and tomorrow night as a mirror of living in chutz la’aretz) is the only time on the Jewish calendar that we bentch licht with the bracha of “l’hadlik neir shall Yom Tov” (or Shabbas v’Yom Tov) and do NOT make a shehehcheyanu. It is the only true “second days of chag” since that is simply the misnomer people use for Shemini Atzeret in order to make planning easier. 

People talk about Shavuos having few distinguishing marks compared to the other holidays, but at least it has a Shehecheyanu. The last days of Pesach is/are the most understated yom tov we have; all that is unique about it are the things that we don’t say – such as the shehcheyanu and the extra perakim in Hallel. 

On the last days of Pesach, we read about the crossing of the Yam Suf, for this was when it occurred. One would think that an event as prominent in Jewish history as the crossing of the Yam Suf would merit a unique holiday; and given how close it is to Pesach, it would have made sense for such a holiday to be structured like Shemini Atzeret – a joined but unique holiday. So why isn’t it?

Well…

Of course, I can’t answer that question. But I can make some of my own reflections. 

One of the most critical concepts in Judaism is the fact that every person has bechira, free will. Every person has the ability to choose right or wrong. No one is forced to follow the Torah; the world is built on concepts of reward and punishment and consequences for choices and actions. With that in mind, think about the other Shlosh Regalim. 

--On Sukkos we move out of our homes and into temporary dwellings, making an active choice to celebrate trusting Hashem.  Shemini Atzeres is a response to Hashem asking Bnei Yisrael to spend one more day with Him.  We choose to meet His request.

--Pesach commemorates Yetzias Mitzrayim, and it is a well-understood idea that 4/5 of the Bnei Yisrael remained – some say because they did not believe in the possibility of redemption or that they were those too far drawn to Egyptian society, wishing to be like the Mitzrim. These are both choices. Those redeemed were those who chose to accept Moshe as the redeemer. 

--Shavuos is the holiday we say celebrates Hashem giving Bnei Yisrael the Torah, but, in truth, it is the holiday of Bnei Yisrael receiving the Torah. It is not, as one might think, the same thing. Bnei Yisrael said Naaseh v’Nishmah; they chose to accept their role as Gd’s chosen nation. 

Choice – Choice – Choice. The Shlosh Regalim, the primary Yom Tovim, all celebrate choosing. 

The crossing of the Yam Suf is one of the most profound moments in the formation of Am Yisrael, indeed of the world. It was not, however, a moment of choice. Bnei Yisrael were surrounded on four sides, three by the enemy and the fourth by the sea.  

Most of us have had moments where we wished Hashem would give us a sign, a personal sign. We want miracles. Indeed, when we talk about the Yam Suf, many of us wonder why we can’t have a neis of our own. The answer, very simply, is bechira. If Hashem showed us open miracles, then we could not choose to put our own will over Hashem’s.

The Shlosh Regalim do not commemorate miracles. They commemorate the choices that are the foundation of Bnei Yisrael’s relationship with Hashem. Perhaps that is why, in the time of the Beis Hamikdash, we would leave our homes and travel to Jerusalem – an action, a choice to act (and why we have Pesach Sheni when those who could not come but wanted to could, make up their absence). Miracles happen all around us, constantly. Most of them are understated, as they should be. Most of them we don’t notice, and so we are able to live our lives making choices. The final days of Pesach are understated because  Kriyas Yam Suf could only have happened for those who made the choice to follow Moshe and be redeemed. 

But the crossing of the sea itself was not a choice, just a miracle.

I wish you all a wonderful Shabbas, a wonderful Yom Tov. May we continue to make choices that bring us closer to Hakadosh Baruch Hu

A Truly Personal Parsha Prose Prior to Pesach I

  don’t know how many of you are like me, but I felt like sharing some personal thoughts and reflections now, as I sooth my aching feet after a full day of the domestic avodah necessary to prepare for Pesach. As those who know me well will attest, neither housework nor the need to be meticulous suits me very well. The emotional energy of it is almost as draining as the physical action involved. The worry of having missed something, of having shrugged off something important, or of having just plain forgotten an entire set of drawers is always present with me during the days leading up to Pesach. (Don’t be alarmed, I haven’t worked myself into enough of a tizzy to be cleaning any of my light fixtures!)

 

All this physical Pesach prep usually leaves me with a lack of time to do the spiritual preparations, to focus on why this ritual-filled meal is so important to me, to my kids, and to the entire Klal Yisrael. Indeed, I do try to direct my attention in that direction, and every year in my head I dream up different ways to make my family’s seder more engaging and interactive.

 

Growing up, my family’s seder consisted of going around the table and each taking a turn reading a paragraph. As I became more observant, commentaries were added into the round-robin reading. At a larger table with kids of various ages, however, too many extra added commentaries can deflate the excitement, and trying to find creative ways to spice up the seder is often met with dead eyed stares or subtle sighs.

 

This week, I listened to a wonderful shiur by Rabbi Joey Haber during which he gave ten ideas for enhancing the seder. During one of those suggestions, he mentioned how his own family is more into debate than discussion. It made me contemplate how I yearn to create a vibrant, exciting seder full of laughter and memorable moments during which my children are inspired and deepen their connection to Hashem. When I was younger, I made game sheets, question flash cards, and even, one year, drawings for those perfect illustrative moments. But not only were they, shall we say, unappreciated… by the other members of the seder, they were difficult for me to integrate as the reading went on.

 

To be honest, even haggadot full of what must be cool commentary, purchased fresh each year, can be difficult to manage during a seder as there is little time to read ahead and make sure the commentary will be well met by the rest of the table.

 

Listening to Rabbi Haber, I thought about my own family’s preferences and realized, not for the first time, that, well, we have no one style. Hashem blessed me with 5 very individual children, and so my seder - or my anything - will always be a balancing act between creativity and straight-forward text, between drashot and singing. Everyone has their own needs, and the seder must address them all.

 

It's a beautiful reminder about one of the most integral aspects of the Pesach offering. The eating of the Pesach offering was a communal event, and it still is. The seder brings people together to talk about Yetzias Mitzrayim. The significance of Yetzias Mitzrayim, beyond Hashem demonstrating His greatness, was that it was the forging of a nation.

 

When Hashem brought us out of Mitzrayim, we went from a large familial group to a nation, to a people with structure and culture and expectations of each other.  Most importantly, that nation was woven together by faith, by a recognition of Hashem in our lives. Fairly stated, emuna is a very difficult thing to maintain, especially in trying times. Also, fairly stated again, emuna is not one size fits all. Different people are inspired by completely different facets of Torah, but the core remains the same.

 

Mitzrayim was a place but, chazal notes, it is also a concept. Mitzrayim refers to a narrow or constricted place, and as we note in the Haggadah when we speak of Every Generation facing those who wish to destroy us, it is a concept that repeats itself – as we see all too well today. But we hold on and our faith, our belief that Hashem fulfills His promise of redemption, remains.

 

At the seder, we will call out that who ever needs should come. It doesn’t matter who you are; it matters that you want to come and celebrate our redemption for Mitzrayim. Who ever needs isn’t just about having food for the seder. Needing food is just one form of wanting. Some people need safety. Some people need family. Some people just need other people because life circumstances has left them alone, and the korban Pesach could not be offered and eaten alone (I mean, I guess if one was really, really, really a good eater they could eat a whole kid-goat alone!). Who ever is in need, come to our seder. It doesn’t matter if you want to say drashot, hold debates, sing gustily, or just sit and absorb – come and join, and you will add to our seder.

 

As the final preparation day dawns, I hope to have time to peak into my newest haggada (Rav Hirsh – so excited), to write down thoughts to share, perhaps even to prep my questions. It probably won’t happen, and it likely won’t be well-met by my children eager to bring their own flavor into the seder. And that is totally okay. That too is part of the annual Seder preparation.

 

Have a beautiful Shabbas and a Chag Kasher v’Sameach. Don’t forget to take time this Yom Tov to appreciate the diversity in your own family and the diversity within our nation. Take time to thank Hashem for being here after “In every generation.” (This week’s parsha, Tzav, does talk about the Thanksgiving offering given by one whose life was spared… you make the connection). And don’t forget to take the opportunity to express yourself at your seder.