Dear friends,
In this week’s Torah portion, Parshat Shemini, we read of a disturbing story that seems to support all the negative conceptions of God – God as jealous, vengeful, hot-headed, and very petty; not bound by any moral code.
Here’s what happened: After the elaborate description of building of the Mishkan, which fills most of the last several portions, we read this week of its dedication. For the grand event, God chose Aharon and his sons to offer the sacrifices which they performed with a very impressive climax. A fire came down and devoured all the fresh meat offered to God and the fear of God was instilled in the people.
In reaction to this ecstatic moment, when the power of God was so revealed, Nadav and Avihu, two sons of Aharon who were also two nephews of Moshe, placed some incense on a pan and offered a sacrifice to God which ‘God had not commanded’. Thereupon a second fire came out from God and killed them both.
What exactly was the sin they committed for which they deserved the death penalty? From the basic reading it seems that it was the fact that they had the audacity to show their love and awe of God in a way that was not prescribed, that ‘God had not commanded’. But can this really be their sin?! It was, after all, a victimless crime – a few extra incense smelling up the Mishkan! How can a just and compassionate God mete out such disproportionate punishment?
The most widely recognised Biblical commentator of all time, Rashi, offers two explanations: The first was that they had the insolence and the gall to take the initiative on a religious ruling, in front of their superior Moshe. Like above, this reasoning is an affront to our moral sensibilities. I mean surely there is another way to discipline those who get carried away with hippie incense-burning other than to kill them! If we keep in mind that the Torah refers to Moshe as the most humble person ever to walk the earth, surely his non-existent ego would not have minded his nephews spontaneously expressing their state of ecstasy by burning a few herbs.
The alternative interpretation Rashi offers for why they were killed is that they were drunk. Kind of gives a whole new meaning to ‘if you drink then drive you’re a bloody idiot’. Again, no matter how bad you think alcohol and its effects may be, no one would suggest capital punishment for the intoxicated. Sure, if someone kills another while intoxicated they are held accountable but even still it’s not quite like premeditated murder. In our case, there was no murder, simply a new smell in the air which, no matter how offensive, would surely not warrant such severe punishment.
The Kabbalah offers a fresh approach that is most profound and relevant. According to the Zohar, the primary text of Kabbalah, Nadav and Avihu were not arrogant undisciplined drunks but, in fact, two of the most spiritually aware and engaged individuals. Their death was not a punishment from God for a ridiculously trivial sin but, rather, a natural consequence of their deep spiritual yearning.
According to the Kabbalah, there are two main drives in the human experience: the drive to be grounded, to establish roots, and to nest is one. And there is also the drive, the need, the extreme yearning, for spiritual experience. While the need to be grounded ensures we work a steady job, create a home and raise a family, the spiritual drive propels us to go out to nature, do yoga, meditate, engage philosophically, listen to music, to make love. The common denominator of the spiritual quest is the transcendence of the self, letting go of the ego, and participating in a greater reality.
Nadav and Avihu then were two individuals who exemplified the spiritual yearning of the human condition. Their deep longing meant that when they had the most profound spiritual experience of their life, their spirit could no longer be contained by their material body, and they expired.
So what is the moral of this story? I don’t believe it’s about strict obedience to God for fear of divine retribution. And it’s not a shock tactic style TAC commercial. What it is about is the fact that human beings are spiritual animals.
Aristotle believed ‘Man is a rational animal’. With the bloodiest century in human history continuing it seems very likely he got it wrong. Humans are not rational animals, we are animals capable of rationality. And more to the point, we are spiritual animals.
But our spiritual yearning cannot supersede and entirely obliterate the need for groundedness. For if the sum total of one’s spiritual trip ends up not affecting the world around them for the better, it is ultimately a form of indulgence. We can pray all day long, but if that doesn’t translate into feeding the poor and caring for the wretched, it is a kind of spiritual masturbation.
And that is the whole point of religion in general and Judaism in particular: the pursuit of the spiritual life and reality. We must become spiritually aware in order to realise that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration. That we are all one consciousness. That there is no such thing as death. But what we must not lose sight of is the fact that for these epiphanies to have any worth they must manifest in a tangible sense, in our acts of deep compassion and utter kindness.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Shneur
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