The first of this week’s two parshiot, Acharei Mot, marks a transition from a moment of individual suffering to a ritual of communal atonement. The parsha opens with a reminder of the punishing death of Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, who improperly performed the avodah in the Mishkan. After a series of laws and regulations, we are reminded of Aaron’s personal loss before reading a detailed description of the Yom Kippur worship. Glaringly, we—as readers—are forced to consider why the text recalls the events of five chapters prior to explaining another set of ritual regulations.
Initially, there is an obvious answer: perhaps, Aaron was (understandably) anxious to reenter the Mishkan after witnessing the death of his sons. A space of joy and ecstasy has been transformed into the site of tragedy. Not only would Aaron be anxious for his own safety, but to a certain extent he is reenacting the death of his own two children, and he is forced to encounter his sorrow once again. This initial personal reading of the parsha’s introduction opens the conversation to a wider audience. Not only is God comforting Aaron and reassuring him as he embarks on what is, certainly, an emotionally challenging task, but God is also giving Aaron the opportunity to model national worship and correct the sins of his sons.
The story of Aaron’s sons always reminds me of the Greek myth of Icarus. According to the myth, Icarus’s father, Daedalus, made Icarus a pair of wings out of beeswax and feathers. Daedalus warned his son not to fly too close to the water or too close to the sun. Overwhelmed by excitement at the ability to fly, Icarus ignores his father and soars into the sky, flying too close to the sun. As the sun melts the wax of his wings and the feathers fall—one by one—into the sea below him, Icarus, eventually, realizes he is just flapping his bare arms and he plummets into the sea and drowns.
Similarly, Aaron gave his sons the ability to “fly” to unfathomable spiritual heights through their role in priestly worship. Traditionally, it is understood that Aaron sons’ true sin was the act of hubris; their assumption that given the tools of the Tabernacle, they could fly as close to God as they wanted. Like Icarus, they came too close to the source of power and, ultimately, perished.
As a teacher, these two stories scare me. I want my students to push themselves and take risks; I want them to reach for the sun and try to move closer to God. How, then, can I leave room for student expression and experimentation, while protecting them from the dangers of hubris?
In her groundbreaking book, “De-Facing Power,” political scientist Clarissa Rile Hayward argues that to truly become an empowered student, one must understand the context in which one lives and the systems that impose themselves on one’s choices and actions. Hayward encourages readers to change the conception of power from “an instrument powerful agents use to alter the free actions of the powerless,” and, instead, think of it as “a network of social boundaries that constrain and enable action for all actors.”
Using Hayward’s understanding, empowering students isn’t giving them wings so they can reach the sun, but it is, instead, creating communities where they can build wings themselves, and soar to even higher and unimaginable heights. If our students understand the way the world is structured and how it functions, they can make decisions together that are both informed by the limits of our universe and also challenge them. This parsha teaches us that to be truly free, we need to understand the world we live in and what the true sources of power might be.
Nadav and Avihu sought to empower themselves to confront the ultimate source of power. They elevated themselves above the community and claimed unique access to divine power. In this week’s parsha, God demonstrates to Aaron how he can create an empowered community that has the possibility of forming a fruitful and productive relationship with the divine. The recollection of Nadav and Avihu’s death might be comforting and reassuring to Aaron, but it is also a warning that Aaron, and all subsequent priests, must understand that the priestly relationship with the divine is on behalf of the entire nation of Israel—not on behalf of the individual priest.
Therefore, it is crucial that before Aaron starts to reform a relationship with God, he understands that this relationship is rooted in the larger community of Israel. This may also explain the detailed rules and regulations that we read in this parsha, which apply to all of Israel. To understand how we can build a community in relationship with the divine, we need to have a context and framework in which we can all collectively participate. The power of the Jewish people is in our ability to form a unique context, through which to connect with each other and with God.
Mr. Edward Maza teaches humanities at The Idea School. Mr. Maza holds a BA in art history and education studies from Yale University and an MPhil (master’s degree) from the University of Oxford in Hebrew Bible Theology.
