Dvar Torah Parsha Sh'mini

Vayikra 9:1 – 11:47

There’s a lot going on in Parsha Shemini. We begin following the seven days of ordination of Aaron and his sons. On the eighth day, Moshe calls together Aaron and his sons as well as the elders representing all of Israel. There’s a lot of symbolism going on with the eighth day. In Judaism seven days symbolizes a complete unit, and an eighth day represents the beginning at a new level concluding an octave. For instance, a baby boy is circumcised on that day and brought into the covenant on that eighth day. Talmud in Babylonia Talmud Megillah 10B compares the seven days of celebrating the construction of the Tabernacle to the seven days of Creation. On the eighth day we are challenged to live in the day-to-day world of ordinary events. (Commentary Etz Chaim.)

Moshe invites Aaron to officiate at the alter for the first time. One tradition is that he is urged to bring forward the purification offering, a calf, for it reminded him of the sin of the golden calf. Moshe assures him however he is forgiven because he was ashamed. (M’norat Ha-Ma-or.) The ability to feel shame is according to this tradition a defining characteristic of a moral human being. He makes expiation both for the priesthood AND the people though the latter required an additional sacrifice. On this first occasion the amount of sacrifice required was greater, requiring both an ox and a ram. Then Aaron lifts his hands and blesses the people. They then enter the tent, perhaps to pray for the appearance of Hashem’s presence (Sifra, a halachic midrash of Vayikra often quoted in the Talmud), or perhaps according to Ibn Ezra, the miraculous ignition of the alter fire. The fire cam from Hashem’s Presence (the Kavod) which itself is fire enveloped in a thick cloud that pervaded the tent.

Chapter 10 is about Aaron’s sons Nadab and Abihu, and example for the need to strict compliance to ritual laws and regulations, who bring “foreign fire” and are consumed by flames dying instantly. The story is told without ever telling us explicitly what they did. More on this to follow. Finally, our parsha outlines the various laws of kashrut.

Let’s dive deeper into this story of Nadab and Abihu. Looking at various commentaries, often there is more than one interpretation by individual commentators. Some questions by the commentary in Etz Chaim include, did they bring instruments to make a fire, not understanding on this occasion it comes directly from Hashem? Were they standing too close to the foreign fire when Hashem’s flame arrived at the altar?

Chibbah Yeteirah, a commentary written in the late 20th century by Yehuda Herzl Henkin quotes the Rambam saying that the fire didn’t descend specifically to kill Nadav and Abihu. Rather they were simply not careful to enter at that moment and when the fire descended, it killed them. While it was an accident, nevertheless they sinned for not paying attention since they should not have brought fire. They acted seemingly according to halacha, but they did not pay attention to what the Holy One required of them at that moment.

Chizkuni, a commentary written by Chizkiyahu ben Rabbi Manoach in the 13th century had more than one take on this. First is that they were forbidden to put fire in these censers. It was custom that heavenly fire to travel first to the Holy of Holies, and from there to the golden altar in the Sanctuary to consume incense offered. In this case it did not stop there but traveled beyond the Sanctuary to the copper altar in front of the sanctuary where they stood. He also quotes Rashi quoting Eliezer that the reason they were killed is they assumed right to make halachic decisions while Moshe was alive and well.

In the earlier Jerusalem Talmud Yuma 1.1, the question is raised in connection to their deaths at Yom Kippur when they actually died on the first of Nissan. Their answer is that the premature death of the righteous acts as atonement for the people left alive.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks had some thoughts on this as well. He in essence offers the distinction between Prophets and Kings on the one hand, and the Priestly class. The prophets and kings can act spontaneously, for they inhabit the world of time. To fulfill their roles, they need a sense of history, understand the mood at the moment, and the flexibility to act in that moment. Priests are the guardian of the order. They maintain boundaries between sacred and secular, the pure and the impure. They are part of a world that is timeless, daily, weekly, and annual sacrifices, to distinguish between the sacred and the profane, and to teach the people. Spontaneity is not permitted within the priesthood. In another piece on this subject, Rabbi Sacks suggests that the function of the holy, the point at which “I am” is silent in the overwhelming presence of “there is”. There was a call for humility that these two sons ignored.

I believe each of these explanations, interpretations present truths that may or may not relate to the actual incident, but then Torah is always an unfolding adventure going forward. Whether accident or intentional, mistakes were clearly made. The two sons acted on their own initiative rather than instructions given through Hashem by Moshe, and they paid with their lives. Rabbi Sacks makes a powerful argument in terms of the roles and responsibilities of the priesthood vs prophets and kings. One look at the history of the Jewish people, though we were required to change a lot following the destruction of the temple, the essence of what Torah teaches us has remained consistent. We do sacrifices in different ways, no longer killing animals, but rather offering gemilut chesed (loving kindness, Avodah (prayer,) and teshuvah (forgiveness). While leaders act spontaneously, a Jew anywhere in the world will recognize and participate in worship based on centuries of experience. The world of the sacred is indeed timeless.

Spirituality and our encounters with the Holy encourages limits to our behavior, opportunities for sacrifice, and our minhagim (customs) delineate both our encounters with the profane and the holy. After all of this transpired, we see Aaron in response to the death of his two eldest sons, silent. Commentary after commentary suggests silence equals consolation, acceptance, and continuation. As a priest, he is not allowed to grieve, but the community does it for him. Life goes on, and his duty is to continuation of priestly duties. It was in keeping with his role as a priest. Today though, in face of tragedy to our people, as it was for the people Israel outside of the Tent of Meeting, to mourn, to speak out against that which is senseless. Since the Shoah, we are called to Yizkor, to remember, and to work that it never happens again. The photo above speaks to that. It was my shul, following the murders of Jews at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburg. Antisemitism is on the rise today. We will not be silent.