Parshas Shemini: Overdosing on God

An Approach to the Nadav and Avihu story

So I’d like to try out an approach to the Nadav and Avihu story based a little bit on ideas I’ve developed previously. I know it is Parshat Tzav, but I’ve been excited about this one for a bit, and Tzav is not the most action packed parsha in the world. So I’m doing Shemini. Deal with it.

For those unfamiliar with the story, let’s take a look at it.

וַיִּקְח֣וּ בְנֵֽי־אַ֠הֲרֹ֠ן נָדָ֨ב וַאֲבִיה֜וּא אִ֣ישׁ מַחְתָּת֗וֹ וַיִּתְּנ֤וּ בָהֵן֙ אֵ֔שׁ וַיָּשִׂ֥ימוּ עָלֶ֖יהָ קְטֹ֑רֶת וַיַּקְרִ֜יבוּ לִפְנֵ֤י יְהֹוָה֙ אֵ֣שׁ זָרָ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֧ר לֹ֦א צִוָּ֖ה אֹתָֽם׃

Aharon’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, took each one his pan,
placed fire in them, put smoking-incense on it,
and brought near, before the presence of YHWH, outside fire,
such as he had not commanded them.

וַתֵּ֥צֵא אֵ֛שׁ מִלִּפְנֵ֥י יְהֹוָ֖ה וַתֹּ֣אכַל אוֹתָ֑ם וַיָּמֻ֖תוּ לִפְנֵ֥י יְהֹוָֽה׃

And fire went out from the presence of YHWH
and consumed them, so that they died, before the presence of YHWH.

Nadav and Avihu go into the holy of holies, offering incense, which had not been commanded, and then a fire comes out and consumes them and they die.

So, commentators have been bothered forever about two questions:

1. Why the hell did they do a silly thing like that?

2. Why did they deserve to die?

There are lots of answers in Chazal, and lots of answers in the commentators, and I recommend taking a look at R. Yaakov Kamenetsky on the topic, who does a good job synthesizing the various opinions into a single theme.

But I want to try something a little different.

What have Nadav and Avihu experienced recently?

Well, along with all of B’nei Yisrael, they experienced the giving of the Torah. The Torah stresses in Sefer Devarim not just the content of the Torah received at Har Sinai, but the experience itself:

רַ֡ק הִשָּׁ֣מֶר לְךָ֩ וּשְׁמֹ֨ר נַפְשְׁךָ֜ מְאֹ֗ד פֶּן־תִּשְׁכַּ֨ח אֶת־הַדְּבָרִ֜ים אֲשֶׁר־רָא֣וּ עֵינֶ֗יךָ וּפֶן־יָס֙וּרוּ֙ מִלְּבָ֣בְךָ֔ כֹּ֖ל יְמֵ֣י חַיֶּ֑יךָ וְהוֹדַעְתָּ֥ם לְבָנֶ֖יךָ וְלִבְנֵ֥י בָנֶֽיךָ׃

Only: take you care, take exceeding care for your self,
lest you forget the things that your eyes saw,
lest you turn aside in your heart
all the days of your life;
make them known to your children, and to your children’s children:

י֗וֹם אֲשֶׁ֨ר עָמַ֜דְתָּ לִפְנֵ֨י יְהֹוָ֣ה אֱלֹהֶ֘יךָ֮ בְּחֹרֵב֒ בֶּאֱמֹ֨ר יְהֹוָ֜ה אֵלַ֗י הַקְהֶל־לִי֙ אֶת־הָעָ֔ם וְאַשְׁמִעֵ֖ם אֶת־דְּבָרָ֑י אֲשֶׁ֨ר יִלְמְד֜וּן לְיִרְאָ֣ה אֹתִ֗י כׇּל־הַיָּמִים֙ אֲשֶׁ֨ר הֵ֤ם חַיִּים֙ עַל־הָ֣אֲדָמָ֔ה וְאֶת־בְּנֵיהֶ֖ם יְלַמֵּדֽוּן׃

the day that you stood before the presence of YHWH your God at Horev,
when YHWH said to me:
Assemble the people to me,
that I may have them hear my words,
that they may learn to hold me in awe
all the days that they are alive on the land,
—and their children, they are to teach!—

וַתִּקְרְב֥וּן וַתַּֽעַמְד֖וּן תַּ֣חַת הָהָ֑ר וְהָהָ֞ר בֹּעֵ֤ר בָּאֵשׁ֙ עַד־לֵ֣ב הַשָּׁמַ֔יִם חֹ֖שֶׁךְ עָנָ֥ן וַעֲרָפֶֽל׃

you came near and you stood beneath the mountain:
now the mountain was burning with fire,
up to the [very] heart of the heavens,
[in] darkness, cloud and fog.

The experience itself, of what they saw and felt, the stuff beyond the words, is included along the words of that revelation in the command to remember the revelation at Sinai. It was clearly a memorable, overwhelming experience, especially when you take into account the peshat-based midrash that B’nei Yisrael heard the first two commands from God Himself, and each time, their souls left their bodies and had to be restored by God. There was some sort of release from consciousness, some sort of ego death involved in the experience of revelation, an experience that B’nei Yisrael asked Moshe to allow them to forgo for the rest of the ten commandments. It’s scary for your soul to leave your body, I imagine.

But what if some people experienced that mini-death and longed to experience it again? What if there were people who as soon as the experience was over, set about trying to recreate it? What if there were people, who instead of being scared by the total obliteration of their identities when faced with an infinite God, wondered if they could go even further and deeper? We’ve already seen one response along those lines (the Golden Calf), but now we see two individuals who gaze a little too long into the abyss.

וַיַּ֥עַל מֹשֶׁ֖ה וְאַהֲרֹ֑ן נָדָב֙ וַאֲבִיה֔וּא וְשִׁבְעִ֖ים מִזִּקְנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃

Then went up
Moshe and Aharon, Nadav and Avihu, and seventy of the elders of Israel;

וַיִּרְא֕וּ אֵ֖ת אֱלֹהֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל וְתַ֣חַת רַגְלָ֗יו כְּמַעֲשֵׂה֙ לִבְנַ֣ת הַסַּפִּ֔יר וּכְעֶ֥צֶם הַשָּׁמַ֖יִם לָטֹֽהַר׃

and they saw
the God of Israel: now beneath his feet,
[something] like work of sapphire tiles,
[something] like the substance of the heavens in purity.

It is significant that besides for Moshe and Aharon, Nadav and Avihu are the only ones named here. The Midrash picks up on this and faults them for looking at this vision of whatever the hell that is for too long. I think this picks up on an essential part of Nadav and Avihu’s character. They are not people who are satisfied with getting a peek. They are not people who are going to accept limitations on their capacity to experience. They will continue to gaze as long as they can, to be lost in ecstacy, and their only desire is to continually deepen that experience as far as it could possibly go. They are addicted to the experience of revelation. The first hit was free, and they will desperately try to recapture that experience.

The Mishkan, though, represents a problem for Nadav and Avihu, in that it sets limits. We limit ourselves to create space for God and allow God to set limits for us, and that entails building God a sanctuary that is only accessed at certain times and by certain people. Ritual and culture is put in place to guard against becoming lost in the desire to continually recreate the “first high” of the experience of revelation, setting limits that preserve that experience and let it out in set increments, to head off the temptation to raise the “dosage” higher and higher when resistance is built up.

And it’s the last day of the inauguration of the Mishkan, and Nadav and Avihu have been inaugurated as priests, whose job it is to enforce that moderation, who are called to be responsible guardians of religious experience. They have one last chance to see how deep they can go into the experience of revelation, how long they can gaze at the sapphire tiles, how much deeper they can go into the realm beyond words . They drink some wine to loosen themselves up, and plunge into the holy of holies with incense pans burning to try and recreate what it felt like to have their souls leave their bodies, obliterated by the infinite.

And they succeed.

And that’s when they die.

Now, what makes Moshe different from Nadav and Avihu?

Were Nadav and Avihu on a higher level than Moshe because they merged with God?

No. What makes Moshe different is not his closeness to God, but his ability to maintain a comfortable separation from God. He talks to God face to face, each respecting the boundaries of the other. He does not barge in unannounced demanding God accept his incense. He does not get lost trying to deepen the experience of his communion with God, for that way lies madness. He accepts limitations, he stops his descent, and it is that respect of boundaries that allows his closeness with God.

The rest of the parsha seems to maintain this theme. Nadav and Avihu, in their obsession with recreating experience, cross over a boundary. As a result, not only is wine prohibited for Kohanim, but a whole system of dietary laws imposes limits on one of our most basic drives as human beings. Limitations are supposed to prevent us from getting stuck in a feedback loop where we push the boundary further and further until the self is obliterated.

But I’ll leave you with one tantalizing possibility.
Maybe proving that point is exactly what Nadav and Avihu were going for. Maybe they recognized how destructive the desire to recreate the experience of revelation could be, and they saw within themselves the potential to commit monstrous acts toward that end. Maybe they entered the holy of holies with firepans in their hands knowing that they would die for the sake of B’nei Yisrael learning that there was a need to place limits. Wouldn’t that be one of the most selfless acts in the Torah?

Maybe.