Parshat Shemini  24 Nissan 5762, April 6 2001

By Shlomo Riskin

Efrat, Israel - This week's Torah reading presents an awesome and awful scene of the heights of ecstasy merged with the depth of despair: exaltation together with extinction, ineffable transcendence alongside of inexplicable tragedy. The desert Sanctuary is being dedicated, sacrifices to the Almighty are offered, Moses and Aaron bless the entire nation. A divine fire comes forth from the heavens and consumes the altar and its offerings; the people see, sing out with joy and exaltation, and fall on their faces in gratitude to the Almighty who has miraculously signaled His acceptance of the offerings.

Two sons of Aaron, Nadav and Avihu, caught up in the religious excitement of the moment, take a censer, place upon it fire and incense, and offer an additional tribute to G-d; in effect, they respond to the fire of Divine acceptance and grace with their own extra fire of human fervor and commitment. The Divine reaction is as immediate as it is imponderable: "And a fire came forth from before the Lord and consumed them; they died before the Lord" (Leviticus 9, 10:1-2).

The intermingling of emotions defy the imagination: on the very day of the climax of the exodus from Egypt, at the very moment of highest tribute to the High Priest Aaron, symbol of Divine protection and generational continuity, Aaron's very future - his two beloved sons - are taken from him, in what appears to be a gratuitous and merciless act on the part of G-d.

Many are the attempted explanations on the part of the commentaries, most of whom attempt to justify the deaths by attributing some fatal flaw in the actions and characters of Nadav and Avihu. The Biblical text, however, makes no such attempt: "And Moses said to Aaron, 'It is as the Lord spoke saying, by means of those closest to me shall I be sanctified and in front of the entire nations shall I be glorified..." (Leviticus 10:3).

And Rashi, the Biblical commentary par excellence, takes Moses' statement at face value. He does not seek to rationalize why these youths deserved their tragic fate; he merely provides the source of Moses' explanation: "Where did the Lord speak? 'And I shall be encountered there with the children of Israel and I shall be sanctified by My glory' (Exodus 29:43). Do not read the text 'by My glory' but rather read it, 'by those who glorify Me.' Moses said to Aaron, 'Aaron my brother, I knew that this Temple would be sanctified by those most beloved of G-d. I would have thought that it would have been by me or by you. Now I see that they (Nadav and Avihu) were greater than I and than you" (Rashi, ad loc). After Moses' uplifting of Nadav and Avihu, Aaron's response is Biblically reported as "Vayidom Aharon," and Aaron was silent, perhaps the heavily pregnant silence of one who feels that if he says what he wants to say, rails against whom he wishes to rail against, he will irrevocably destroy the most precious relationship of his life. And perhaps it was simply the silence of an unasked question to which you now there is no satisfactory answer...

The theological construct expressed by Rashi harks back to the haunting Biblical scene, at the very dawn of our history, of the "covenant between the pieces." At the introduction to the covenant comes the Divine guarantee, "I am the Lord who took you out of Ur Kasdim to give you this land as an inheritance" . However, what immediately follows is the blood, smoke and fire of sacrifice, the prophesy that Jewish redemption requires a prelude - price of alienation, servitude and affliction on the part of the nation, and then the understandable great, dark fear which descends upon Abraham as a result of his awesome vision. To be sure, the Covenant concludes in a confirmation of our continuity and territorial integrity; but our salvation will only come at the price of ultimate sacrifice: "And so the sun set, and a heavy cloud overcast. And behold, a smoking furnace of ashes and a torch of fire which passed between these (bloodied) pieces. On that day the Lord established His covenant with Abram, saying, 'to your seed have I given this land from the River Nile of Egypt to the great River, the Euphrates' " (Genesis 15:7-18).

>From this perspective, we understand the intermingling of the sacrificial blood of the paschal sacrifice with the joyous freedom of the wine which together mark our celebration of Passover, the "Hillel sandwich" which causes us to eat the matzah of redemption together with the bitter herbs of suffering. And from this perspective we understand why Yom HaZikaron, Israel's Memorial Day for her fallen martyrs of the IDF, enters into - and merges with - Yom HaAtzmaut, Israeli Independence Day, and why we, in Israel today, are losing our most dedicated and committed people by the cruel hands of terrorist attacks which comprise our present continuation of our War of Independence. And, as amazing as it is, parents, spouses and orphans almost uniformly respond to these ultimate sacrifices as did Aaron of old, with a heavy, pregnant and accepting silence.

As a very young boy, I remember attending the very first Shabbat circumcision ceremony celebrated by the Kloizemberg - Tzanz Hassidim after they located for a brief time in Bedford Stuyvesant, to where the community's remnants emigrated from the holocaust before they were to settle in Netanya. The Rebbe, of blessed memory, recited the circumcision blessings, and with tears coursing down his cheeks could barely be heard as he choked upon the words, "And I see you rooted in your blood; and I declare unto you, by your blood shall you live, by your blood shall you live."

And then the Rebbe spoke. He explained that the Hebrew word damayich, "by your blood" can also be translated "by your silence" (dom is attentive silence, while dam is blood). We continue to live as Jews, we propagate and plant and build, because - despite our tragic sacrifices, - we remain silent before G-d, as did our forbear Aaron.

"However," he continued, looking upwards and speaking with a voice which seemed to shake the very foundations of the building, "You, G-d, dare not remain silent. As the sweet Psalmist King David declared, 'Lord, You must not be silent (al domi lakh), You must not hush your voice, G-d, you must not be quiet, - Because, behold, Your enemies are shouting out loud...(Psalms 83:2,3). You, O G-d, must cry out, I have forgiven, according to your words '. You, O G-d, must cry out from the ramparts, 'For a short moment did I forsake you and with great compassion do I gather you, say 'the Lord your redeemer' (Isaiah 54, 7,8)!

Shabbat Shalom.

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