Rabbi Haim Lifshitz

Essays and Articles:

Go to Hebrew site

 Translated from the hebrew by S. Nathan

                                                 l'ilui nishmat Esther bat mordechai
Different versions abound regarding the circumstances surrounding the deaths of Nadav and Avihu, Aaron’s sons, though the scripture itself is quite explicit in testifying that they died because they offered “a strange fire that they had not been commanded.” (10:1). 
Despite this clearly stated scripture, interpretations have ranged from one extreme to another, and from the most negative to the most positive.  Moses’ most positive interpretation is expressed to Aaron: ”That is what God had spoken…[when He said”] ’Through My close ones, I will be sanctified’…[On hearing this,] Aaron was silent.”  (10:3).  Rashi brings the Talmudic commentary in Tractate Zevachim 115b: “ ‘Where had [God] spoken thus?  [When He said:]…I will meet there [in the tabernacle] with the Children of Israel, and it will be sanctified through My honor.’ (Exodus 29:43).  Do not read it as ‘through My honor.’  Read it as ‘through My honored ones.’  Moses was saying to Aaron: ‘Aaron, my brother, I knew that this [tabernacle] house would be sanctified through God’s close acquaintances, but I believed that it would be either through me or through you.  Now I see that they are greater than both of us.’ ” 
    This interpretation is closest to the plain meaning reflected in the verse, and it points to the most positive direction for explaining their deaths.  Nevertheless, the Talmudic sages bring a very wide range of negative interpretations that span the spectrum from one end to the other.  “They had done it of their own wishes rather than in obedience to a Divine command,” or “they had [insolently] preached the law in the presence of their masters,” or even the most extreme interpretation, “they had entered [the tabernacle] drunk.”
    Over all these hovers the dark shadow of the sin of the Golden Calf, as we see in Deuteronomy: “And against Aaron, God was very wroth, so as to annihilate him.”  The Talmud explains: “The only annihilation is destruction of children, as it says: ‘I shall annihilate his produce from on high.’  Moses’ prayer annulled half of it [the decree against Aaron] as it says: ‘I prayed at that time for Aaron as well…’ (9:26)”  
Our sages elaborate on this subject extensively, going to great lengths to interpret the sin that brought about the deaths of Nadav and Avihu.  There is nothing to be added here.
Aaron’s response, however, begs explanation: “Aaron was silent.”  On the surface it would appear that he fell silent in the sense that he was comforted on hearing explicitly from Moses that the death of his sons had served to sanctify the name of God, because they had been “greater than both of us.” 
Yet one can also understand Aaron’s stillness as a response to the other interpretation, which views their death as a punishment.  If this was the case, then a response of real sorrow and mourning would have been expected from Aaron, whether their deaths had been a punishment for the sin of the Golden Calf or a result of their own improper behavior.  From that perspective, he fell silent out of utter sorrow: Although it would be appropriate for me to react in the way of all the world, to mourn and weep over the deaths of my two sons, nevertheless I shall not behave in this manner, because of my acceptance of God’s judgment.  This “acceptance of the judgment” is the symbol of the righteousness that accepts – with love – every blow struck it by the Master of the universe, in the sense of “God has given, God has taken away, blessed the name of God.”  Such is the way of righteous people from time immemorial – whether he was aware of a punishment that his sons deserved, due to their sin, or whether there was a calculation that stemmed from a different cause, invisible to us, the living.  It does not lie within our power, as creatures of flesh and blood, to always comprehend with our limited logic, meaning because limitedness crouches over us as human beings. 
It seems to me that this is the way to interpret the submissive response of Aaron, a man who had not been afraid to confront even the angel of death himself, a man who had “stood between the living and the dead,” while halting, single-handedly, the plague that was consuming the Israelites, over Croesus’ rebellion against Moses, a man who had grabbed the sacred incense and run toward the angel of death in order to arrest his advance.  Aaron’s righteousness was so great as to burst worldly boundaries, yet nevertheless, when such a heavy tragedy befell him, he responded with the stillness indicative of acceptance of God’s judgment.
Nevertheless, we should explore another possibility as well:  That Aaron’s silence reflected an awareness of the fundamental separation between a human being’s clear and obvious duty, as it is reflected from the beginning of his role in this world, and one’s obligation and role that are annulled and cancelled when a human being has concluded his role, and yet still lives, which includes everything entailed in the passage to the life of the next world, not as a conclusion but rather as a transition from a form of life that is active to a form of life that persists beyond death, as is said of Chanoch in Genesis: “Then he was gone, for God had taken him.”
    Many believe that Aaron's behavior - keeping silent, and not expressing emotion on the death of his sons - proves that love of God and absolute faith replace human emotion, that the emotions are to be found in reverse correlation to the absolute yearning to attach to the higher realms.  The stronger the attachment grows, the weaker one's relationship to the events unfolding in this world grows, eventually becoming null and void altogether - even to the point of becoming indifferent to human contact and to family connections, including wife and children.  They reach this conclusion from "The Binding of Isaac," and they take this view of the verse, "Aaron was silent."
It is a mistaken conclusion and a wrong view.  Our relationship to everything that surrounds us in this world must be sincere and direct.  It may even be, at times, a relationship of dependency upon another.  At times it will be a relationship of reciprocity.  Sometimes it is one's own relationship toward another, and sometimes it is another's relationship towards oneself.  Such relatedness is an entity comprised of love, of bearing responsibility, and of utilitarian relationships that entail investing effort through actions and through mutual assistance, which human beings extend to those in their environment who are near to them. 
These relationships have continuity, in the next world.  There is one pointed difference, however.  All of the relationships with things and with people, which entail action through investment of effort and responsibility, are necessitated by the very fact of sharing their space in this world.  They are expressed by choosing the appropriate investment of effort, and by bearing responsibility in relation to the needs that arise from whatever situation is being spawned in one’s territory.  One must be incessantly and unrelentingly pondering such questions as: “Where did we go wrong?”  “Did the situation require taking other steps or using different means?”  “Did the crisis arise due to negligence?”  “Did we choose an unsuitable doctor?”
The moment the person dies, his role in this world is completed entirely, and the supreme truth is uncovered and clarified.  The Godly calculation makes its appearance.  Factors not subject to human knowledge or control are revealed; decisive conclusions are in the hands of a supreme power, whereas all calculations of human logic must now disappear.
It can happen that the supreme calculation makes it appearance in all its glory, unaccompanied by the means known to human beings.  People call this circumstance “death by God’s own kiss.”  In contrast to this phenomenon of the supreme calculation in all its glory, there are victims of the logical calculation that is inherent in every situation characterized by “the hidden face [of God].”  In such situations, the supreme revelation is concealed.  Someone dies in war, or passes away after succumbing to disease, famine or suffering.
    It is here that a believer is tested, on his belief that everything is from heaven, and that the appearance of a causal calculation belongs to the veil that conceals the face of God.  What happened cannot be explained by environmental factors, despite their supposedly transparent, logical reflection.  The very fact that “a righteous man lives by his faith” grants him a correct perspective and belief regarding events, so that reflections from the hidden face of God do not confuse or disturb his mind.  This is true even in the moment when he is mourning his dead, or in truth, only at the moment when the other reaches the stage that appears to be the conclusion of his life, in this world specifically.
    We learn from this that calculating the estimated good deeds versus bad deeds of the deceased [in order to understand his passing] has no place in the true cause of what has taken place, when the person under discussion was righteous.  Rather it is the scriptural verse in its plainest meaning: “Then he was gone, for God had taken him,” according to the Godly calculation, with the conclusion of his role in this world, and we do not know the true cause.
    Any attempt to guess at the supreme reason testifies to a deficiency of whole and perfect faith, or to the presumptuousness of man, who presumes to know the Godly intention, of if he is totally immersed in arrogance, to a belief that man has the power to annul or to influence the Godly intention through his own meager powers.  In truth, the possibility of annulment and influence does exist, and has been revealed to human beings: “Repentance, prayer and charity rescind the evil decree.”  However, this possibility is not capable of undermining the fundamental principle, “The decree is handed down from Me.  Accept it.”