Dvar Torah  Shemini  March April 6, 2024 B’nai Brith Somerville

Good Shabbos.  I am again honored to be able to bring words of Torah to you.
I dedicate this dvar torah to my brother, Robert Weinberg, of blessed memory whose yarhtzeit is this week.

Our torah portion this Shabbat is Shemini, Leviticus Chapter 9-11. Chapter 11 goes into great detail on kosher and non-kosher animals.   It is helpful for understanding the background for Jewish kashrut.  On Shabbat Ha Chodesh, which we have today, we also read Exodus 12:1-20 in preparation for Passover. Today,  I am focusing only on Leviticus chapters 9 and 10, on the enigmatic and mysterious story of Nadav and Avihu, who offer outsider fire – Eish Zarah – on the alter, and are devoured by holy flame; as well as Aaron’s reaction to the deaths of his sons.  We will reference the haftarah which is read in other years, when it is not Shabbat Ha Chodesh or Shabbat Parah.   II Samuel 6:1-7:17. We may pause here to note that the story is about an elite male priesthood, and that there is much talk about blemished animals and priests not being acceptable.  Some of this is painful. But we can only cover so much in our short discussion this morning.

I will have reference to a commentary by Reuven Ben Amitai called “Eish Zarah” https://eishzarah.wordpress.com/why-eish-zarah/ and to excerpts from Aviva Zornberg’s new book on Leviticus, The Hidden Order of Intimacy.  Ben Amitai is a rabbinical student who self describes as a Jewish-queer-trans guy from the deep, deep, way-down south, now living in Seattle.  Aviva Zornberg is a renowned scholar of Hebrew Bible who used to lecture widely in Israel, US, Canada and UK.  I attended quite a number of her Boston lectures.

I am drawn to this story of outsider fire because I, too, often feel like an outsider.. Perhaps many  of this feel this way from time to time. In her Kol Nidre sermon last year, Rabbi Eliana said that upon meeting many members of TBB when she began as Rabbi, she “was overwhelmed by the fact that nearly every person I spoke with had some profound experience in their life of being an outsider and of not belonging.”  And that despite loving this community as a place where they would be welcomed and where their otherness would be celebrated,” many still harbored a lurking sense of inadequacy.  I think the story of Eish Zarah can help us to understand and celebrate our uniquenesses.

In Leviticus Chapter 9 Moses assembles Aaron and his sons, along with the elders, to command them regarding the sacrifices to be offered on the alter by both the priests and the Israelites.  The instructions encompass the whole congregation.  In verse 9:7 directs Aaron to make atonement for himself and for all the people.  This will involve blood, animal parts, death and fire;  meal offerings, sin offerings, oxen, rams, and goats.   There are very specific requirements.  It is a huge celebration marking the beginning of the priestly lineage.  Really the preparation and has been going on since Leviticus 8 at least with the rules about sacrifices and the priestly vestments.

At the end of the offerings, 9:22, Aaron lifts up his arms and gives a blessing, which according to Rashi is the Priestly Benediction.  In 9:23, Moses and Aaron go in and out of the Tent of the Meeting and bless the people together, and the divine glory appears to all.   At the conclusion of this very big and very grand public event, fire issues forth from the presence of the divine and consumes the burnt-offerings and the fat parts.  When the people see this, they give a great shout of joy – and fall on their faces  וַיָּרֹ֔נּוּ וַֽיִּפְּל֖וּ עַל־פְּנֵיהֶֽם. Zornberg describes it this way (pg 81)

“In consuming the sacrifices, the fire emerging from the Holy of Holies testifies to God’s acceptance and favor – the grace of His presence. The people’s reaction is vayaronu – ‘and they sang in exultation’.  Never before or after this moment do we read of this quality of song in a narrative context. So powerful is their experience that it apparently prostrates them (they collapse on the ground)…. Theirs is an explosive song, uncontainable, mysterious even to themselves.”

Following, in Verse 10:1-3 (mostly Fox translation).

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 YHVH eish zarah, such as God had not commanded them.  And fire went out from the presence of YHWH and consumed them, so that they died, before the presence of YHWH.

Moses said to Aaron: This is what YHWH spoke, saying “Through those permitted-near to me, I will be-proven-holy, before all the people, I will be-accorded-honor..”   And Aaron remained stock still (va’yadom Aharon).”

Eish zarah.  I thank Ben Amitai for drawing my attention to the fact that the phrase eish zarah, strange fire, appears in the Hebrew Bible only in conjunction with Nadav and Avihu. The root suggests stranger.  The noun form, zar,  is sometimes translated as lay person or outsider (see Lev 22.13).  In and of itself, therefore, that fire is not offensive.  It is just misplaced, not in it’s rightful home, an outsider, a stranger, not invited in.

Why did Aaron’s sons initiate this uncommanded fire?  The previous priestly activities, in Ch 9, had been expressly commanded by God or Moses.   This strange fire was “not commanded them.”  They did it on their own. Were they ignorant?  Were they overeager to do their priestly duties, rushing ahead of instructions?  Were they willfully flouting authority?   When they saw  how the people joyfully greeted and bowed down in front of the divine Holy Fire – did they imagine it would be liberating, holy, mystical, to draw down that fire upon themselves?  This last intrigues me and Ben Amitai brings us a rabbinic teaching on the matter.

“According to Sifra Shemini Mekhita deMiluim 99:5:4, Nadab and Abihu took their offering in joy, for when they saw the new fire come from g-d in the immediate proceeding verse – “A fire came from before HaShem … and all the people saw, rejoiced aloud, and fell upon their faces” – they went to add one act of love to another act of love.”

Rabbi Shoshana Meira Friedman brings this teaching, as published on a Hebrew College blog https://hebrewcollege.edu/blog/strange-fire-of-the-heart/

The Hasidic master Rav Nachman of Bratslav explains it this way: “Nadav and Avihu died because they burned with great zealousness for Godliness, even beyond their capabilities” (Likutei Halakhot II, p. 408). In other words, they were not rebellious kids playing with matches and being careless. They were deep seekers, and they lost themselves in the sacred fire.

The sages have many possible explanations centering around Nadav and Avihu as committing transgressions worthy of punishment, such as being drunk, not cutting their hair or dressing properly as priests, not being married, not consulting with Moses, and more.

What if it was a punishment?  Recall the haftarah for Shemini, at 2 Samuel 6:6

Fox Sefaria  (II Sam 6:3-7)   They mounted the Coffer of God on a new wagon and transported it from the house of Avinadav, which is in Giv’a, while Uzza and Ahyo, the sons of Avinadav, were driving the new wagon.  They transported it from the house of Avinadav that is in Giv’a, with the Coffer of God, with Ahyo walking in front of the Coffer. Now David and the whole house of Israel were dancing in the presence of YHWH…. They came to the threshing-floor of Nakhon, and Uzza stretched out [his hand] to the Coffer of God and took hold of it, for the oxen had let it slip.  YHWH’s anger flared up at Uzza, and God struck him down there because of [his] carelessness, so that he died there, beside the Coffer of God.

Ben Amitai comments:

“Uzzah is killed for the simple act of trying to prevent the Ark from falling onto the ground, an act of devotion and love.  However, despite the love and care intent within the act, that brush against the Ark brings swift retribution from on high… This is a terrifying thought, that even our best intentions and our most personal offerings could result in such cruel retribution.”

Zornberg  p 99 many “explanations are offered by commentaries throughout the ages. But the number and variety of these explanations only highlights the fact that none is fully satisfying.”

Zornberg  p 99 “God’s violent gesture is intended to regenerate the religious sense of the incalculable gravity of His presence. The only words of explanation He offers are the enigmatic, ‘Through those that are close to me I shall be sanctified; in the presence of the whole people i shall make my gravity felt (ikeved)’ (Lev.10:3). The death of the young priests is a reminder of the dangers of every day life with God. It is the work of a moment, an abrupt flash of fire.”

Zornberg  p 109 “This is a story that has generated many stories of meaning. But Aaron’s response is silence: ‘And Aaron was silent.’ Perhaps this is the appropriate response. In itself, it bears many possibilities. Does Aaron’s silence signify assent to God’s enigmatic summation: “Through those who are close to Me I shall be sanctified”? Or resignation? Or tight lipped self-control? Silence holds many possibilities; as of course does language, which is fraught with ambiguity. The narrative of Nadav and Avihu gives us perhaps too many possibilities with an unresolved gap in their midst of each.”

Lets sit with Aaron for a moment.  Immediately after his sons are consumed in the divine flame, the text says va’yadom Aharon.  This is generally translated as Aaron was silent, or kept his peace.   But it actually means that Aaron stood stock still, transfixed, not moving, his whole body holding still.  In Joshua 10:12-13, Joshua speaks to God to ask that the sun stand still upon Gibeon (shemesh b’givion dom) and the sun stood stock still (vayidom hashemesh).  For the sun to stand still is a quite remarkable phenomena and we should think of Aaron as if he were the sun stopped in its tracks.   Another interpretation.   In Amos 5:13 we find this line: “Therefore the prudent keep silent (yidam) in such a time; for it is an evil time.”  So we might say Aaron is rooted to the ground in the face of evil.  Whether that evil is the action of his sons or their death or something else, is a matter for debate.

In the story of Nadav and Avihu, and of Uzzah, and of Aaron’s response (which we only touched upon) we have a lot of room for struggle, for questioning, for finding meaning, for finding our own ways.   A lot of room for our singular and out of the norm experiences to provide tools to unpack meaning.

I would like to close with the end of Ben Amitai’s commentary.  Perhaps many of us may hear ourselves in some way in Ben Amitai’s words.

“I identify with Nadab and Abihu and their unidentified offering, this strange fire that no one knew. I identify with these two who out of ecstatic joy or confusion or chutzpah or all of them together offered something new to HaShem. I am a trans Jew, a queer Jew, a convert. So much of what I have to offer is somewhat new, is often unsure, is always strange.

I do this joyfully, full in the knowledge of possible death, full in the knowledge that some of my fires are “against” traditional Judaism and “traditional” Abrahamic morality. I do this aware that my Jewish life is – by many – not considered to be sacred. I do this mindful that my path may even be seen as not just un-sacred, but as innately unholy. There are some who may wish me consumed by an angry fire and others who judge my motives to be unrighteous and impure.

And yet, here I still stand – a Jew. These strange fires are the fires that burn within me. I will place my incense upon it and offer up what I have.”

Shabbat Shalom

Banner: Nadab and Abihu offer unholy fire and die (coloured woodcut) – German School, (15th century) in Paris, Mus.des Arts Decoratifs