The Midrash (Vayikra Rabba 11:6) records a strange narrative surrounding the appointment of Aharon and his sons as the Kohanim. Rabbi Yudan in the name of Rabbi Yosi bar Yehuda, and Rabbi Berachia in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Korkha said, All the years in the desert, Moshe served as co-Kohen Gadol as well (based on Tehillim 99:6 or Divrei Hayamim I 23:13-14).
Rabbi Yudan further notes that Moshe served for the 7 days of the Miluim (Dedication of the Mishkan). Rabbi Shmuel bar Nachman compares this to the Midrashic approach that Moshe conversed with God for 7 days at the Burning Bush. At that time, God spent six days trying to convince Moshe he was the right man for the job. On the seventh day, Moshe said, “Send someone else.” The Midrash claims God’s unstated response was, “I swear I will clip your wings [when you want it most].” Rabbi Levi explains that for the first six days of the last Adar of his life Moshe prayed before God that he should be allowed to enter the Land of Israel. It was on the seventh day of Adar that God said to him, “You will not cross this River.” Rabbi Chelbo said the same thing was going on in our parsha. For seven days Moshe served as Kohen Gadol and thought the position was his. On the seventh day, however, he was told, “The job is not yours. It belongs to Aharon your brother.” Thus, “And it was on the eighth day that Moshe called to Aharon and his sons, and told them…” the instructions that begin our parsha.
The combination of Rabbis Yudan, Shmuel, Levi and Chelbo leaves us wondering: what kind of games are being played in these Midrashim? Did God really punish Moshe for his hesitation to go before Pharaoh at the burning Bush? And even if God did punish him (see Rashi Shmot 4:14), is this kind of measure for measure really necessary? You, Moshe, played on God’s hopes for 6 days, and then let Him down on day 7, so He is going to play on your hopes for 6 days and let you down on day 7! Ha! Gotcha!
Really?!
One piece of this Midrash – which stands almost as an aside to the Midrash’s narrative – could provide the answer to our question (also in Yerushalmi Yoma 1:1). “Rabbi Tanchum said that Moshe served all 7 days as Kohen Gadol, and God’s presence was not apparent through his hand.”
There is an opinion (Shemot Rabba 37:1, Rashi Zevachim 19b sv “Moshe V’Aharon”), whichRabbi Zev Volf of Horadna (commentary on the Midrash) attributes to Rabbi Eliezer b’rabi Yehuda, that Moshe only served during that 7-day period. Perhaps this approach – rather than the one that he was an equal Kohen Gadol for 39 years – can help us resolve our quandary.
It is only after Moshe lets go, when Moshe resigns himself to the reality that he and Aharon have separate roles and that Moshe does not need to do everything, that he can once again serve in the role he was meant to serve, to bring the presence of God down to the people.
If his cup is too full, if he is trying to serve as leader and as Kohen Gadol, God’s presence can not be felt. Moshe is too distracted.
So why the week-long game? Why does Moshe need to be played in the same manner that he “played” God into thinking he wanted the role of leader at the Burning Bush?
Because 6-7 days is a decent amount of time to know whether a person likes something, whether it is something a person can go with, continue doing, or whether it is something that is just wrong.
For 6 days at the Burning Bush, Moshe raised every objection, and each one was answered. No one will believe you? Here are signs. You can’t speak? Your brother Aharon will be with you. You don’t know my name? Here it is. Pharaoh won’t believe you? I have a plan.
Moshe holds out for six days, and on the last day he throws in the zinger, “Eh, I never wanted the job to begin with.” Moshe, how could you say such a thing to God?
Therefore Moshe is given the message twice – once at the beginning of his career, and once at the end of his career. You never wanted the job – and it took you six days to actually say the truth? Now that you want the job of Kohen Gadol, or the right to go into the Land, it will take six days until God reveals the truth to you.
At the same time, you need to understand that it’s not your destiny. There are other factors at play. Aharon is Kohen Gadol because you can’t double up. And you can’t lead the people in to the Land, because that role requires a different kind of leader – a person who lives in the trenches, who identifies with the people in a way you could not when your leadership was called into question. Rashi on Devarim 2:16 says that God did not communicate with Moshe in a significant way for 38 years. He only got his last hurrah and final communication with God when he was about to die.
Be a straight shooter, know your role, don’t seek more than necessary, understand where your strengths fit into your destiny, and carve out a life that puts together all of these ingredients. These are the important lessons we can learn from Moshe’s occupational revelation at the beginning of Parshat Shemini.
This was my sermon this past Shabbos. Some thoughts on the Holocaust, its aftermath, and on our responsibilities as the Jewish people to avoid religious extremism...
No words or thoughts can soften the blow of the toll the Holocaust had on the
worldwide Jewish communities, and the impact it still has. The numbers remain
unfathomable. The declining overall Jewish birthrate is not replenishing the
loss, assimilation is making things even worse, and from a certain perspective,
Jewish identity and knowledge is declining overall.
These
last facts are often fodder for the spewings of anti-Semites who claim the
Protocols of the Elders of Zion is not a forgery – they would advocate for
thinking people to believe there is an active effort and network of Jews
worldwide to take over the world.
Another
side of the coin: We have sadly gotten to a point where Jewish comedians make
jokes about the Holocaust. I see articles about poor and needy Holocaust survivors who are being neglected in the US and in Israel.
And a self-proclaimed denier of the Holocaust, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, is given a
chance to speak at the United Nations General Assembly.
We live in strange times.
It is
troubling to read or hear people, especially Jewish people, assigning blame for
either why the Holocaust happened, or which Jews were responsible for not doing
more. We are human – we do not know and will not know why personal or national
tragedy befalls member or the entirety of Our People.
A number of years ago I
read a transcribed speech of Rabbi Moshe Shternbuch – in the book Reb Moshe
Speaks, in which he blamed the Zionists – the secular living in Israel,
who did not want an influx of European Jews in Palestine
– for not doing enough to save Jews. I have seen similar accusations hurled at Chassidic
Rebbes and Roshei Yeshiva for telling their constituents that this too will
pass—stay, there is no reason to run away. [The troubling conflict they faced is analyzed here] The truth is, who knew? Who really
could have foreseen what Hitler's Nazi Machine could do? Who really understood
the gravity of the Final Solution.
Don't
blame Jews for the Holocaust! Blame the Nazis for the Holocaust! And blame an
indifferent world for ignoring those who escaped and
reported, and for turning a blind eye to what was going
on!
In his
recent visit to Israel,
President Obama was addressed by Rabbi Israel Meir Lau at Yad Vashem. Rabbi Lau
told a personal memory of Rabbi Herschel Schacter, father of Rabbi JJ Schacter,
who happened to pass away the day before Obama's visit to Yad Vashem, of his
role as the chaplain for the US Army who liberated Buchenwald, where young
Lulek Lau was liberated as a child at age 8. Then he spoke of a member of the military that he met 68 years after the war, who apologized to him saying, "We were too late!" And Rabbi Lau asked of President
Obama not to be too late in standing up for what is right for the safety and
well being of the Jewish people in Israel
and around the world.
The
Pasuk towards the end of Va'eschanan says - דברים
פרק ו - יח) וְעָשִׂיתָ הַיָּשָׁר וְהַטּוֹב בְּעֵינֵי יְקֹוָק לְמַעַן יִיטַב
לָךְ וּבָאתָ וְיָרַשְׁתָּ אֶת הָאָרֶץ הַטֹּבָה אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע יְקֹוָק
לַאֲבֹתֶיךָ: The formula is
quite simple. Do what God wants – what is ישר וטוב in His eyes, and good things will
happen.
As we
learn from Paroh, who was perhaps a messenger of God who chose to take things
to the extreme he did, it is the oppressor that is to blame for turning the
oppressed into the victims. Blaming Jews for the Holocaust is disgraceful. We
blame Nazis and indifferent passive anti-Semites.
However,
what we can do is look at the precedent of Tanakh and see that there are many
warnings of what will happen to the Jewish people if they choose not to do what
God wants. Read the Tokhachas of Bechukosai and Ki Savo, and some things become
abundantly clear – as they have been played out for the Jewish people
generation after generation – like a script followed expertly by its
performers, villains and heroes, persecutors and victims.
Are
there guarantees that good will always be the result or that bad will never be
the result? No. We do not know the ways of God. But certainly a reasonable
formula for good tidings and outcomes, as per the Torah's description, is doing
what God wants.
This
morning we read of the dedication of the Mishkan on the Yom HaShmini – when all
the parts of the animals to be burned were placed on the Mizbeach, all was set,
leaving God to bring the anticipated fireworks. And did He deliver! when a fire
descended from the heavens and consumed all items fated for burning.
Everyone
present knew this was a heavenly fire. The Midrash Agada says when the people
saw the fire consuming the Korban parts, נפלו על
פניהם ואמרו שירה, על אותה השעה הוא אומר רננו צדיקים בה' לישרים נאוה תהלה (תהלים
לג א'. They knew they
were in the presence of God, that nothing could go wrong, because they were
doing everything right.
The
fire that consumed Nadav and Avihu, on the other hand, was clearly a punishing
fire. And why? With the exception of the very minority opinion that says the
deaths of Nadav and Avihu were preordained and were necessary for the
sanctification of the Mishkan, most everyone tries to nail the coffin, so to
speak, on where they went wrong.
[There
are many opinions: they were מורה הלכה בפני רבן, they were jealous of kavod given to
Moshe and Aharon, they acted on their own without consulting with anyone,
They drank wine before they did their avodah, they weren’t wearing the proper
bigdei kehunah, they didn’t perform רחיצת ידים
ורגלים, They didn’t have
children, they were not married (may have even tried to woo Agunos, alternatively they caused women to be Agunos, all thinking they might marry the two most eligible bachelors), they were
supposed to bring their ketores on the inside mizbeach and they brought it on
firepans instead, their deaths were punishment to their father for his role in
Chet HaEgel, they may have been acting as non-kohanim, as private citizens,
using their kohen-status for access, but not because this was considered a
proper avodah, they didn't trust in the possibility of a heavenly fire, as did
their father before them (thank you to Rabbi Josh Flug for making me aware of some of these)]
Even
the Torah says they brought an אש זרה, a strange fire, that God had not
commanded. That God chose to make that or any of the suggested reasons a death
sentence is His business, but it is a reflection of the fact that they were not
doing what God wanted.
We can
not give answers for the Holocaust. But in these days post the Holiday of
Redemption we can ask why the Redemption has not come? Perhaps part of the
answer was and continues to be – עד ביאת גואל צדק – that as a united Jewish People,
there are too many imperfections in our fulfillment of God's will.
What
God wants is laid out clearly in the middle of Devarim Chapter 10, and Micha
chapter 6 verse 8 – it's the last pasuk in the Haftorah of Parshas Balak. Look
them up and know those pesukim well. "God asks of you only that you remain
in awe of God your Lord, so that you will follow all His paths and love Him,
serving God your Lord with all your heart and with all your soul keeping
his commandments and decrees that I am de\scribing to you today." "He
has told you, O man, what is good, and what the Lord demands of you; but to do
justice, to love loving-kindness, and to walk discreetly/humbly with your
God."
These
verse mostly address the responsibilities we have between Man and God. And
between Man and Man, which is a reflection of what it means to be a Godly
person, we have many of the rules which are spelled out in Parshat Kedoshim,
which we will read in a few weeks.
And we
need to contrast all these with what God surely does not want:
Neglect
of the Torah and mitzvos on the one hand, and neglect of fellow Man on the other.
Sinas Chinam continues to plague our people.
On the
other side, I read an editorial in a right-wing Orthodox magazine, in which the
author spoke of the battle between Orthodoxy and non-Orthodoxy, which he
believes will be won by the Orthodox.
Are
these what God wants? Bashing, name calling, a battle?
In the
aftermath of the latest election in Israel, there is an uproar over the draft
of the Chareidim. Some of the arguments I have read against the draft – from
the Chareidi side – would be funny if they didn't mean them seriously.
From
the UK edition of Hamodia [as quoted here]: "Our Hashkofoh obligates us to
demand state support for Torah and chessed mosdos, not out of
concern that they won't be able to continue to provide vital services to the
weaker sectors, but to provide a merit for the government, which is so in need
of Heavenly mercy. Even if the government doesn't appreciate and understand the
workings of midoh keneged midoh, its support for such institutions
will serve its interests."
One
wonders if the writer has taken any notice of the reality of our world.
The
theological arguments promoting a learning only culture and a
government-entitlement culture, in which men do not work or participate in
society are anti-thetical to the Torah.
ששת ימים תעבד!
Work! Teach your child a trade! And find time to learn when you've fulfilled
your work obligations.
Every
Bible hero and every Talmudic master had a trade. Some were wealthy some were
dirt poor. But they worked.
And
when push literally came to shove, the Biblical heroes bore arms and fought –
for themselves, their families and their nation. Was Avraham a military man?
Was Yaakov – the Ish Tam Yoshev Ohalim? Was Moshe a fighter? Was Shmuel Hanavi a
warrior? No! But they fought when they needed to!
Who
were Yehoshua, Otniel ben Knaz, Ehud ben Geirah, Gideon, Yiftach, Shimshon,
Shaul, David? Great leaders and warriors, famous for their military
accomplishments!
I read another article
entitled "Israeli Rabbi Causes Uproar
By Post On Facebook Saying He Shaves During Sefira". The
article explains that he is a mohel – according to halakha a mohel can get a
haircut and shave for a bris during sefirah. But that's beside the point! An
UPROAR? Over a Facebook post about a minhag? The mourning of the sefirah period
is meant to be a reminder of why Rabbi Akiva's students
died – because lo nahagu kavod zeh lazeh. Perhaps Rabbi Akiva was forced to
realize that V'ahavta L'reiakha Kamokha is such an important principle of the
Torah as a lesson learned from the way his students respected, or didn't
respect, one another, and the fact that they died because of their behavior.
The mourning feeling reminds us of this. And people getting in a tizzy over one
person's interpretation of a minhag misses the point entirely. Mind your own
business and mourn over what could have been had Rabbi Akiva's students
survived and taught Torah to the world.
Let us reject religious extremism – in the pro religion or in the anti-religion
(those whose "religion" it is to mock religion) side. People need to
be educated and need to make educated choices. Some choose to make halakha
important in their lives. Some choose not to. And some don't know anything
about it. And some, to quote Groucho Marx in Horse Feathers, say "whatever
it is, I'm against it."
A halakhic life is not yet in the cards for
everyone. But respecting those who choose it, or who choose not to have it, must
be in the cards for everyone.
The first section of our parsha demonstrated the way to do God's will, in which
people fell on their faces in praise of God. The second section, Nadav and
Avihu's tale, and its aftermath, demonstrates an admittedly extreme measure of
what can happen when people go against what God has said. Certainly the
Holocaust was an extreme measure. And 2000 years of exile is also an extreme
measure. But the ways of God are often hidden from us.
We must strive, as much and as best as we are able, to do what God wants. It is
our job to be tolerant of others, to share our knowledge when possible, and to
be good examples. But we can not let extremism take over who we are! Of course
people must stand for something! But if what they stand for is harmful to a
society, or makes life unbearable for others who live in that society – either
because they make demands or don't contribute to any cause from which they
benefit – this is wrong.
No
ethical religion mandates such a policy, and it should be shunned and rejected.
Living in a society means contributing to it, noticeably, tangibly, and in a
manner that indicates clearly that I believe in this, because this is where my
life is. It means being tolerant of others, letting people live their lives,
and being a model citizen. Respecting the law of the land – advocating for
change through the proper channels when necessary – but abiding by the law
while it is the law. [Footnote – see Women of the Wall. - who are welcome to pray at the Wall, but are just asked to follow the law]
The Law
in Israel, for example, respects Shabbos on Holocaust, Memorial and
Independence Days.
For a
Jew being the model Jew ideally means following those texts in Devarim and
Micha to round out one's religious experience vis a vis God. And with regard to
one's fellow man it means respecting the other person, showing compassion,
empathy, being a good listener and doing God's work - looking out for others
honestly, with dignity, doing our part to help bring about the Final
Redemption.
Tragedy has struck. Aharon's two older sons are dead,
victims of their own efforts in bringing a 'strange fire' into the Mishkan. Now
their corpses must be removed from a room only their father and brothers may
enter, yet these very people are the ones who are prevented from entering
because they have a job to do, and responsibilities which can not fall by the
wayside – the inevitable outcome of their becoming "tameh" through
contact with the deceased.
And so Mishael and
Eltzafan are called in. They are described to us as "The sons of Uziel,
uncle of Aharon."
Being students of the
Torah, we know the relationship of all these people from Shmot 6:18 and 6:22.
So why does the Torah
add the unnecessary words, "Uncle of Aharon?"
Rashi tells us nothing
new when he explains that "Uziel was the brother of Amram." Rabbenu
Bachaye even wonders why Rashi bothered to tell us this – we know it from Shmot
6. Rabbenu Bachaye explains what he believes was Rashi's line of thinking based
in a Midrashic idea (Midrash Agadah, Yalkut Shimoni, etc) that the Torah is
coming to teach us how Aharon had inherited his qualities of being a
"lover and pursuer of peace" from his Uncle Uziel. Malbim similarly
explains that he was his beloved uncle who had similar qualities in general,
and that there is a unique kind of filial attachment that relatives who are
very similar have for one another.
I find this difficult
to accept as an answer – because it doesn't explain Rashi very well. If the
meaning was to suggest that Aharon was more like his uncle than his father, why
didn't Rashi just say that? Perhaps Rashi was simply noting that this verse
supports information we had been given earlier.
Rabbi Ovadiah MiBartenura suggests that one might
mistakenly think that Aharon's Uncle Uziel was a different Uziel married to a
sister of Amram. In this manner, it is being made clear that Mishael and
Eltzafan, sons of the brother of Amram, are Levites. The rule is made clear
that if no Kohanim are available to remove the corpses, Levites could enter the
Mishkan, but not regular Israelites.
Furthermore, the
Sha"kh explains, their connection to Aharon through their father is
significant for other reasons. "There is no one other than you two who can
get them; they were sgan-kohanim and you are sgan-levites (sgan = Vice). You
were both at the same level in your field. Eltzafan was to be the prince of the
Levites (Bamidbar 3:30). Just as
Aharon and Uziel were equated, so were their respective sons equated (even
though Mishael and Eltzafan were Aharon's first cousins and of his generation,
it is the father-son equation which parallels them with Nadav and Avihu)."
The Netziv adds that
Mishael and Eltzafan were modest and humble in their own way. The special
kinship between Aharon and Uziel allowed for this branch of the family to take
care of the tragic unfoldings on Aharon's behalf. There were, after all, some
members of the family who were jealous of Aharon (think Korach), and might have
viewed his tragedy as their opportunity to one-up him, to gloat in his loss.
But this was not the way, nor the concern of the family of Uziel, who were
family-people through and through.
It is important to note
that Aharon is often used in the Torah as a family connection. When Miriam
dances after the splitting of the sea, she is described as "the sister of
Aharon." Pinchas is described a number of times as "Pinchas son of
Elazar, son of Aharon."
There are three
approaches as to why Miriam is described as "the sister of Aharon":
either because she prophesied first of all her siblings – even before Aharon
(Otzar Midrashim), she prophesied when
she was only the sister of Aharon – about the birth of Moshe (Talmud Megillah
14a), or because he gave his life for her (Midrash Sechel Tov Beshalach 15).
Being connected to
Aharon, whose reputation is so outstanding, is a tribute to Miriam, a tribute
to Pinchas, a tribute to Elazar (when he is Kohen Gadol), and continues to be a
tribute to all the Kohanim, whom we continue to call Bnei Aharon.
In short, Uziel's being called Aharon's uncle is a
tremendous credit to a man about whom we otherwise know very little. The role
his sons play, and the fact of their being chosen to take the deceased out of
the Mishkan speaks volumes of who each of them was on a personal level, not to
mention (or specifically to mention) the stock from which they came.
May all parents,
grandparents, uncles and aunts merit to have children, grandchildren or nieces
and nephews about whom we are proud to say, "I am the parent/ grandparent/
aunt/ uncle of So-and-so. And I am proud of it." Especially if you see a
little bit of yourself in the next generation.
Because this kind of
pride, unencumbered by jealousy, is what makes a family unit strongest, as it demonstrates who among us models the behavior we most proudly affirm.
According to my Concordance, the root word "Kosher" appears three times in the Bible (in Esther and Ecclesiastes) – not once in the Torah. Ask anyone with a decent familiarity with the Torah how many times "the laws of Kosher" are discussed in the Torah, and you'll get a few different answers, ranging from three to close to ten.
As much as the word "Kosher" is not utilized in the Torah, the terms which are employed are "tumah" and "taharah" as well as the negative form of "not-tahor" – referring to all the different kinds of permutations of animals which are fit (literal meaning of "kosher") or unfit for Torah-abiding-consumption.
In its discussion of these laws at the end of Parshat Shmini, the distinction between tameh (oft-translated as "spiritually impure") and tahor ("spiritually pure") is invoked, as a distinction is made between animals which are permitted to be consumed and animals which are forbidden to be eaten.
In his commentary on the Torah, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch has a 17-page essay (Feldheim edition) on the lessons and laws that are derived from these distinctions. He also makes reference to a similarly lengthy discussion on the subject in his book "Horeb" – Chapter 68, Forbidden Foods.
In Horeb, Hirsch profoundly states that the dietary laws have nothing to do with health. In fact, he claims that if one ingests the "impure" foods, "you may be more nourished and better fed, but the animal instinct will be aroused more strongly within you, and your body becomes more blunted as an instrument of the spirit… You become 'tameh,' impure, less capable of your holy mission, and you should really be 'anshei kodesh,' [people] of sanctity, members of a great, holy institution."
Along similar lines, his commentary on the Torah cries out that "the reason for these laws is not bodily health, but the moral integrity of our souls… to ensure the spiritual and moral health of our souls."
Guarding what one eats doesn't assure a spiritual holiness, but it gives one the ability to attain it. "Tumah" – the spiritual impurity addressed by the Torah – is largely defined as death, and contact with death. But it is also an idea, notion, or conception (as Hirsch puts it) that is not something concrete, that is associated with certain living animals and creatures – the ones we would nowadays call "unkosher."
In the Orthodox world, "Kosher" does not need much of a sales pitch. Efforts of the kashrus organizations have made accessibility to kosher foods in the United States a fairly easy endeavor. In the non-Orthodox world, there are many who only buy kosher, and there are also many who do not.
Some claim it is too hard, some claim it is too expensive. These arguments are sometimes true and sometimes not true.
At the same time, living in a society in which people are well aware of, and on top of outbreaks and scares associated with foodstuffs (including in vegetables), we can drop the notion that some people have that kosher is "healthier."
With few exceptions, such as the process of manufacturing wine and the mixing of dairy and meat (and, of course, the proper preparation of the meat of "tahor" animals), "kosher" means that the ingredients do not include "tumah" animals or their byproducts, or that the food in question was not cooked or processed on machinery or in utensils in which the same animals or their byproducts were cooked or processed (unless the machines or utensils were kashered first).
While some may claim to understand all the sentiments behind "tumah," most will readily admit they do not. At the same time, we are happy to add that if it is important enough for God to spend so much time in his Torah discussing these rules, they are clearly there for our benefit.
And if, as Hirsch argues, ingesting only "tahor" animals and ingredients sets our bodies up for, and allows them to achieve a spirituality level that is impossible if we are fueled by "tameh" ingredients, those looking to achieve such a status – whatever it means and however it may be defined, will only view the kosher laws as a gift rather than a burden.
This is a question of spiritual health and not physical health. And as true spirituality is more or less defined by the Torah, rather than an emotional feeling some people who are "spiritual" sometimes speak of, observance of these rules in nourishing the body is the first ticket towards achieving the Torah prescribed nourishment of the soul that we hopefully yearn to achieve in our lifetimes.
In the aftermath of the massacre of the Fogel family in Itamar, Parshat Shmini couldn't be more timely in its arrival. While the impetus for the deaths of Aharon's sons, Nadav and Avihu, is obviously not comparable to the heinous crime committed in Israel, it is the aftermath of their demise which is most instructive.
What brought about the deaths of Aharon's older sons? Most discussions analyze the specific nature of the particular service they were performing. Were they drunk? Were they wearing the proper clothing? Did they enter an area prohibited to them? Did they perform a service reserved for their father alone? Did they merely bring a strange fire?
The different approaches curtail our ability to know exactly what triggered their deaths. A thorough analysis, however, helps paint entirely different pictures, suggesting that, perhaps, Aharon's sons died for other reasons.
Picture #1: Shmot 29:43 says that when the Mishkan will be dedicated, "It is there that I will commune with the Israelites, and [the tabernacle] will thus be sanctified with My glory." In other words, something grand will happen which will demonstrate God's awesome power. A sacrifice of some kind will be offered, which will consecrate the Tabernacle. It may or may not relate to the actions of individuals.
Picture #2: Shmot 19:22 says, "The priests, who [usually] come near the Divine must also sanctify themselves, or else God will send destruction among them." This verse leads us to believe that somehow, Nadav and Avihu did not properly sanctify themselves.
Picture #3: Shmot 24:9-11 presents a strange narrative of the actions of some of the leading figures of Israel. "Moses then went up, along with Aharon, Nadav and Avihu, and seventy of Israel's elders. They saw a vision of the God of Israel, and under His feet was something like a sapphire brick, like the essence of a clear [blue] sky. [God] did not unleash His power against the leaders of the Israelites." Targum Yonatan explains that God saved his punishment for them until the Yom HaShmini, 'the eighth day' of our parsha, while Rashi explains that they deserved to be killed at that time, based on the verse "And [God] said you may not see My face, for a human can not see me and live." (Shmot 33:20)
Picture #4: When describing why Elazar and Itamar are described by the Torah as "the remaining, or spared sons", Rashi on Vayikra 10:12 says "Those spared – from death. It teaches us that the death was also decreed upon [Elazar and Itamar] over the sin of the Golden Calf as it says 'And God was angry enough with Aharon to destroy him.' 'Destruction' refers to the deaths of his sons, as it says (Amos 2) 'I destroyed his fruits from above.' Moshe’s prayer canceled half of the decree as it says 'And I prayed on Aharon’s behalf at that time.'"
In other words, all of Aharon's sons should have died as punishment for his behavior in the Golden Calf story, but on account of Moshe, Aharon's punishment was reduced. He only lost two sons instead of all four. [This is not the forum to discuss the theological or philosophical implications of a punishment in which the father loses his children, or in which children have to die on account of the sins of the father.]
The point of the analysis is that we have no idea why things happen, or what truly constitutes God's Master Plan. And it is obvious that in many cases, it is impossible for us to understand.
The possible reasons for Aharon's son's deaths, as presented, have nothing to do with the story in Itamar. The parallel of half of Aharon's sons is coincidental to the fact of half of the family's children being lost. The fact remains - there is no comparison. Nadav and Avihu were taken by God, while the five Fogels were taken by monsters disguised as human beings.
The brutal nature of the murders of the Fogel family has all of the Jewish people shuddering with revulsion at the abhorrent nature of the crime. How divorced from humanity does one need to be to see any shred of justification in such a despicable act?
In Aharon's case, he carries on. The lesson is learned. He must find solace in his other children, and do all he can to protect them. He must make sure they follow the laws, and adhere to the instructions outlined for them by God. And they grow, in time, to become great men. In Elazar's case, he fills his father's shoes more than adequately.
In the case of the Fogel family, as for all of Israel, the lesson must be learned as well. Security must be a top priority. The care of the remaining children, of this and all attacks, are the responsibility of all the Jewish people. One supermarket owner, Rami Levy, has apparently committed to keep the family's pantry stocked with food until the youngest Fogel child turns 18. This form of generosity knows no bounds.
Israel must have a more forceful response than "they kill, we build" to send the message that the blood of its citizens, on all sides of the Green Line, is not cheap. We want all of our people to have the opportunity to grow up, and like Aharon's surviving sons, to have the chance to become great people.
A Blessing on Your Head Most blessings in the Torah are directed from either G-d to man or from man to G-d. There are a few exceptions, of course, when humans bless one another, but they generally follow a similar pattern in which the “blesser” blesses the “blessee” either immediately before one of them departs company, or before said “blesser” dies.
Examples of people parting company include Malkitzedek to Avram (Bereishit 14), Rivkah’s mother and brother to Rivkah (Bereishit 24), Yitzchak to Yaakov (Bereishit 28), Lavan to his daughters and grandchildren (Bereishit 32), the angel to Yaakov (Bereishit 32), Paroh asks for a blessing after he grants freedom (Shmot 12).
Those who give blessings before they die include Yitzchak — who thought he was about to die — to Eisav (Bereishit 27), Yaakov to his grandsons and then sons (Bereishit 48-49), Yosef to his brothers (Bereishit 50), and Moshe to the Israelites in the last chapters of the Torah.
And still there are those who give blessings at the onset of a relationship, or when they will be together for a while. When he arrives in Egypt, Yaakov blesses Paroh in Bereishit 47 before living in his country for 17 years. And there are two times in the Torah when we find the kohanim blessing the children of Israel. The latter instance is in Bamidbar 6; the verses commonly referred to as “birkat kohanim.” The first of these is in our parsha (9:22) after the dedication of the Mishkan.
It seems like such an odd dedication ceremony. Aharon is essentially spending the day on the altar, dividing his time between slaughtering animals and burning them, and when he is finished for the day, he blesses the people. Wouldn’t it be more prudent to bless the people before the day’s work, as opposed to at the end? “You should all be blessed that our work today on your behalf be seen and recognized by G-d.”
The third Mishnah in the last chapter of Brachot (54a) speaks against the prayers of one who wishes for the outcome of events that have already transpired to turn out the way he wants. By extension, perhaps we can suggest that the blessing here is out of place — particularly if it follows the offerings that have just been brought. Who is to say the sacrifices were accepted by G-d?
Targum Yonatan says the blessing of Moshe and Aharon in the following verse (9:23) was meant to counter that very concern. He writes, “Once the offerings were completed and G-d’s presence was not revealed, Aharon was very concerned and expressed his worry that G-d was not accepting his handiwork. So Moshe and Aharon then went to the Tent of Meeting and prayed on behalf of the people, then exited and blessed the people saying ‘May G-d accept the offering and forgive your sins…’”
The Shakh follows this explanation saying the Moshe-Aharon tag-team was more of a prayer than a blessing. Which makes sense, considering that Aharon had already blessed the people.
What blessing did Aharon give the people? Was it a formal blessing, or a personal blessing? Did he follow a text, or was it an ad-lib? Many commentaries follow the reasoning of the Talmud (Megillah 18a) that the blessing Aharon is saying here is, in fact, the birkat kohanim of Bamidbar 6.
The Talmud also asks why the blessing was given at the end of the service, and concludes that blessings and thanksgiving go together, at the end.
Nonetheless, in light of the individual forms of blessing highlighted above, perhaps we can suggest that whether Aharon used the Torah’s “script” for the blessing or created his own, he knew quite well that some blessings take place before a departure, and some take place before the death of the one giving the blessing.
Perhaps Aharon was giving the blessing at the end of the service because everyone was now going to return home. On the opposite extreme, in light of Targum Yonatan’s comment, perhaps Aharon was giving the blessing because he feared the service did not go well and did not know if he’d be around to perform it the next time. This premonition was not far off, because not five verses later, his two older sons die from performing the service incorrectly or inappropriately.
But maybe Aharon wanted to break the mold. Maybe Aharon knew that blessings are good all the time. And he also knew that the kohanim who bless others would be blessed by G-d (Bamidbar 6:27).
We can all appreciate and benefit from the blessings we give to one another. If we can expand our horizons, hopefully the blessings will come not just when we depart on a journey or from this world, but at times when we will continue to live together for many years.
