Parshat Shmini
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The first narrative in the book of Vayikra describes the 8th day of the dedication of the Mishkan, culminating with the deaths of Nadav and Avihu and the aftermath of that tragedy.
Aharon’s reaction of silence is well known. How did their mother respond to their untimely demise? The Talmud (Zevachim 102a) tells us that on the day of the inauguration of the Mishkan Elisheva had 5 things that she could rejoice over, and 1 thing which was a cause of mourning. Her brother in law was the king, her husband was the High Priest, her son was the assistant to the High Priest, her grandson was a Kohen anointed for war, and her brother, Nachshon ben Aminadav, was the Prince of a tribe. Her mourning was because her two sons died.
This narrative is presented in countless Midrashim, in slightly different formats as well, some of which focus on the question of Koheles of what is Simcha worth if people die anyway? Or on the verse in Tehillim, that “Israel will rejoice with its Maker,” at the right time. Elisheva was rejoicing over all her good fortune, that she didn’t see what was coming. (Pesikta D’rav Kahana).
The Midrash Tanchuma gives case after case of Biblical heroes who had a chance to celebrate their good fortune, but starting with Adam and continuing with Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov, Yehoshua, Eili (the High Priest), they either sinned or otherwise suffered through difficulties in the rearing of their children. In Yehoshua’s case, he died childless.
There is a troubling Midrash (38:7) on Parshat Tetzaveh. Weaving together a number of verses, it says that when Aharon was to atone for God’s holy ones (Israel), he was told to take 1 bull, and 2 rams (Shmot 29:1). The Midrash identifies the bull as Aharon and the two rams as his sons Elazar and Itamar, thereby suggesting that Aharon was getting the hint that only two of his sons were destined to serve and that two were actually slated to die.
What does this mean? If that were the case, spare him the pain, and allow him to just have two sons! And the answer is that part of what made Aharon into who he became was this loss.
And we can say the same thing for Yehuda, who lost two sons. To David, who lost 4 children in his lifetime.
Many years ago I read an essay entitled “Welcome to Holland” by Emily Perl Kingsley to try to explain what life as a parent to a child with a disability is like. She compares it to intending to go on a trip to Italy, which ends with the flight attendant welcoming you to Holland. Her point being it’s a journey – not what you expected – but Holland has its fine points as well.
In looking for it, I found another essay (thank you “Google!”) written by a woman named Zita Dulock who hates “Welcome to Holland,” who essentially argues that actually everyone ends up in Italy. Because parenthood (= Italy) is what everyone who has a child signed up for. “But we're all having very different vacations, because we're very different people, raising very different children. Is my experience what I thought it would be? Nope- it sure isn't.”
“But neither is life with my neurotypical daughter. And neither is life with my husband. And neither is my life, in and of itself.”
Her version of the essay is more like this: Welcome to Italy! Despite all your prep and plans, you can’t find your hotel, you realize you needed to know Italian much better, you lost your luggage, it rained the whole time. Some found an incredible bed and breakfast, some discovered Italy through museums rather than sites. Some spent the whole time not leaving their hotel.
“The truth is, this trip is nothing like what you planned it to be...even if everything goes exactly as planned! Because you can't predict how something will feel. You can't predict how something will smell. You can't predict what will captivate you, or terrify you. All you can do learn as much as you can, before you leave and when you land, and focus on being adaptable and flexible.
“Whether or not you enjoy the trip is entirely up to you.”
That, of course, is about disabilities. But I think there is wisdom in it which can apply to the case of loss.
The Torah paints Nadav and Avihu in a very positive light in Parshas Acharei Mot, that as they were getting very close to God they died. That doesn’t take away from their parents’ pain. But what a tribute to Nadav and Avihu! And shouldn’t that tribute be a source of some comfort to their parents?
I have found some parents who have suffered loss, whether to illness, car accidents, terror, SIDS, or other tragedies, (thousands of parents in Israel have buried their IDF-sons) to be extremely inspirational. Whether they have the strength to realize what their role has become (what Italy has turned into), or whether they have worked through a tragedy with therapy to come to terms with how to move on. They don’t want anyone to suffer as they have. But their drive to live has motivated thousands upon thousands of others.
I wonder if Aharon became famous as an Ohev Shalom V’Rodef Shalom (lover and pursuer of peace) after the deaths of his sons (as opposed to before). Because if it was after their deaths, then he took his tragedy as a charge to remind people that life is much bigger than fighting with someone over something which might be – in the larger scheme of things – rather trivial.
Those who went through the Holocaust to build families are more than inspiring. Their strength and tenacity is legendary.
The people of Israel who have lost sons and daughters in the IDF and to terror have shown a resilience when they go from tragedy to joy. With all the trauma, with all the therapy, with all the emotional support needed to help them get there.
Elisheva learned that when there is joy, there will be joy. Sometimes a lot of it. But she also came to learn that sometimes there will be sadness. But that sadness, like the unknown trip to Italy, is what helps us become who we become.
When the sadness comes, we need community to bring us back to reality, and then we need the rest of our lives to figure out what we do with that hole in our hearts. And how we can infuse our lives and our circles with Kedusha.
Rabbi Soloveitchik lost his wife, mother and brother in the same year. He wrote mounds and mounds of essays (some posthumously) about suffering and navigating the curveballs life throws our way. Those who find the gift of life worth continuing to live will find that whether you think you’re in Holland or just a very different trip in Italy, it is the fundamental meaning and profound connections that we make and find in life that help us become the people we ultimately become.
If one could take an inoculation to never experience pain or suffering, would we take it? Considering that it would necessarily have to destroy all kinds of emotion, consider the side effects! It’s not for me to say – it’s for everyone to decide – but I can’t imagine too many people would choose to have never loved than to have loved and lost. .
Like Aharon and Elisheva, a community feels your pain. Like Aharon and Elisheva, we hope your tragedy will not destroy you, but will turn you into an inspiration.
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