The parsha of Shemini is troubling. In the midst of the inauguration ceremonies of the Mishkan, two of Aharon’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, “each took his pan, put fire in them, and placed incense upon it, and they brought before the L-rd strange fire, which was not commanded them” (10:1). As a consequence: “[t]here went forth fire from before Hashem and consumed them and they died before Hashem” (10:2). One Midrash suggests the fire entered inside them and consumed them from the inside out, a punishment found nowhere else in the Torah. Why would they deviate from procedure and why such an unusual punishment for the infraction? What also are we to make of Moshe’s and Aharon’s response to these deaths?
After the deaths, Moshe approaches Aharon, saying: “This is what the L-rd spoke to me, saying: ‘By those close to me I will be sanctified before the face of the entire people and be honored’” (10:3). Aharon, rather than ask history’s greatest prophet to explain this tragedy, just stands silent. Why? Then there are the midrashim that paint the sons of Aharon in a far from favorable light.
The story’s proximity of the prohibition on a kohen performing the avodah after consuming wine leads some to conclude that Aharon’s sons were intoxicated. Yet, it seems unlikely that Moshe would not have previously conveyed this prohibition. So why place this commandment here after the fact?
Other explanations see a degree of arrogance in Nadav and Avihu’s actions. It is suggested that they were punished for not consulting Moshe or Aharon before deciding a law concerning the avodah. Another adds that they were so confident of their own abilities they did not even consult one another. Still another says they entered the Kodesh HaKodashim. Another midrash suggests, based on a verse in Tehillim (78:63): “Fire consumed his youths and his virgins were not married,” that Nadav and Avihu thought: ‘Our father is the high priest, our uncle is the king; what girl in Israel is worthy to marry us?’” Also suggested is that they looked at their uncle and father and wondered, “When will these old men die, that we might lead.” But how can these midrashim so criticize Nadav and Avihu if Hashem said He would be sanctified by those closest to Him? How could persons harboring these thoughts be considered close to Hashem? Even if we ignore the midrashim, the plain text says they deviated from the prescribed avodah, and how can someone be called close to Hashem if they fail to follow Hashem’s rules? To find answers let us turn to their father.
Why was Aharon silent? It was because he was not selfish. Aharon comprehended something we tend to overlook. Life is not a circle but a line. We are sent into this world and, knowingly or unknowingly, perform our role in Hashem’s plan. Once our mission in this world is complete we proceed to our next world. Death is not an end but rather simply a departure from this realm. Aharon’s undoubted sadness was rooted in being deprived of future daily interaction with his children. They moved on while he remained behind. To Aharon, who perceived more than we, it was comparable to children leaving home. We lament their departure and feel a loss while nonetheless understanding that they must move on without us. So also did Aharon understand that the time had come for his children to move onward. Of course he was silent; there was nothing to say. There was also another reason.
Aharon was not oblivious to his children’s faults. The “sins” recounted by the midrashim had not yet occurred. The midrashim do not reflect Nadav and Avihu’s actions but their character traits. Nadav and Avihu left this world before they sullied the priesthood or their good names. They left this world before the midrashim were realized. Aharon had some comfort in this, but his greatest comfort lay in how they sanctified Hashem’s name.
The kiddush Hashem did not come from Nadav and Avihu violating the law but it came from the violation’s aftereffect. When the sons of the beloved Aharon, the new kohen gadol, died in a most abnormal manner for an infraction that might have been to an extent defensible, the nation shuddered. Few could be closer to Hashem than kohanim, sons of the kohen gadol, nephews of the greatest prophet. Yet, when they, who had license to approach, deviated slightly from what was prescribed, they died. How much more so would be the punishment for the rest of the nation if it also approached improperly. Nadav and Avihu’s deaths made the nation understand the magnitude of the Mishkan’s sanctity in a manner that mere words could never accomplish. Their deaths, not their actions, caused Hashem to “be sanctified before the face of the entire people and be honored.” This sanctification, this warning to the nation, was credited to Nadav and Avihu postmortem. Their passing evoked a fear and reverence that would ultimately protect the people. Aharon took comfort in this knowledge.
Nadav and Avihu’s postmortem sanctification is a lesson for us. After someone close to us dies there is a tendency to venerate them. Their positive qualities and not their negative traits are recalled. Certainly, we should not trumpet failure, but just as we can learn from a person’s positive qualities, so also can we learn from the negative. Just as the people learned from Nadav and Avihu’s error, we also can learn from the failings of those close to us and thereby convert the deceased’s negative traits into positive actions. We consecrate and elevate our departed by learning from all aspects of their life. This might explain why at this juncture we learn the prohibition of not performing the avodah after consuming wine.
At the time of loss we are not to turn away from reality and obliterate reason in wine and strong drink. We must face reality and the truth about our departed. Thus, after his sons died, Aharon continued with the avodah. Yet, it seemed that Aharon deviated from proper practice, resulting in Moshe becoming incensed that sin offerings had not been eaten. Why, however, was Moshe’s response seemingly disproportionate to the offense and why was Aharon’s reply so pleasing to Moshe (10:20)?
Nadav and Avihu’s violation was essentially making an innovation in the avodah. Immediately thereafter it appears to Moshe that Aharon is repeating this error. Moshe just lost two nephews and does not wish to lose two more and a brother. He also fears that the newly minted kohanim fail to grasp that they are not to be innovators in Hashem’s worship. They are not to modify, but to defend the mesorah. Moshe’s outburst was a manifestation of fear for both his family and the nation. When our service of Hashem is directed not by Hashem’s decrees but by our own changing preferences, it is self-indulgence, not holy service, and the beginning of the end.
The foregoing explains Moshe’s flash of anger, while his appeasement was generated by Aharon’s ability to engage in halachic reasoning despite undergoing the worst event a parent can experience. Moshe, knowing that future generations would endure similar suffering, took comfort that Aharon, at this time of great distress, could properly reason out the halacha. From this Moshe knew that future generations would also be able to keep Hashem’s laws despite the sufferings. Indeed, we know that even in the death camps, Jews asked shailos and received teshuvos. Even in the valley of the shadow of death, halacha and the mesorah lived. In his brother’s actions, Moshe foresaw the Jewish people’s resiliency and was thereby comforted and pleased. No matter their sufferings, Hashem’s people would preserve Hashem’s Torah.
William S.J. Fraenkel received a Bachelor of Arts in Religion and a law degree from NYU, and served as a board member and officer of several Orthodox shuls. The opinions expressed in this dvar Torah are solely his own.
