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Harav Hagaon Shmuel Wolman Shlita

Embracing Avdus

Parashas Acharei Mos/Sefiras Ha’omer

Harav Hagaon Shmuel Wolman shlita

The period between Pesach and Shavuos — Yetzias Mitzrayim and Kabbalas HaTorah — is meant to be a time when we focus on actualizing the purpose of Yetzias Mitzrayim, which was to bring us to Mattan Torah and Har Sinai, as the passuk says: בְּהוֹצִיאֲךָ אֶת הָעָם מִמִּצְרַיִם תַּעַבְדוּן אֶת הָאֱלֹקִים עַל הָהָר הַזֶּה. The mefarshim emphasize that this was not just the purpose of the geulah from Mitzrayim, but was also the objective of the shibud, of the kur habarzel (crucible) that we had to endure in Mitzrayim.

The phrase תַּעַבְדוּן אֶת הָאֱלֹקִים indicates that Mattan Torah was not simply a kabbalas ol mitzvos, but rather a kabbalas avdus. It’s not enough for a Yid to live an independent life and abide by the 613 mitzvos. Rather, we need to become avdei Hashem, which is an entirely different level, one of total bitul to Hashem’s will. This is not an easy transformation, and it challenges our natural craving to be independent and indulge our desires. Therefore, Klal Yisrael was capable of reaching this madreigah of תַּעַבְדוּן only after the 210 years in which they were conditioned to be avdei Pharaoh. And once they had acquired this ability to be totally subservient, they could then channel it from being slaves of Pharaoh to being avdei Hashem.

It would seem, then, that during these days of preparation for Mattan Torah, besides working on the 48 things with which the Torah is acquired — especially in the realm of bein adam l’chaveiro, to be נוהג כבוד זה בזה — there should also be a special emphasis on working to achieve this very high expectation of תַּעַבְדוּן אֶת הָאֱלֹקִים עַל הָהָר הַזֶּה.

The Shem MiShmuel points out that on the Shabbos after Pesach, we almost always read about Nadav and Avihu, whether it’s Parashas Shemini or Parashas Acharei Mos, which seems to imply that their passing encompasses a fundamental concept that can help guide us through this growing period between Pesach and Shavuos, so that we can become quintessential avdei Hashem.

Two Ways to Warn

Parashas Acharei Mos begins with a warning not to enter the kodesh and kodesh hakodashim except on Yom Kippur, and Rashi wonders why the Torah precedes this warning with a mention of the death of Nadav and Avihu. He answers this with a mashal of a sick person who visits the doctor and is told that it is dangerous for him to eat cold food or to be in a cold, damp place. But there’s another doctor who doesn’t simply warn the patient of the danger — he adds, “so you shouldn’t die like so-and-so, who died from this cold food or the cold damp room.” Rashi says that the second doctor is much more successful in motivating the patient to avoid endangering himself. Similarly, when Hashem commands the Kohanim not to enter the kodesh hakodashim without authorization, He warns them that the punishment for violating this command will be death, and He illustrates this concept by referencing the death of Nadav and Avihu.

R’ Eizik Sher notes that humans have a tremendous gap between their intellect and the impulses and feelings that govern their behavior. Even when a person knows that something is dangerous, his emotions have to be engaged in order for the message to really resonate: והשבות אל לבבך. By referencing the death of Nadav and Avihu, the Torah underscores the severity of their transgression in a more potent way.

The baalei mussar famously utilized this approach in seeking to create hispaalus with regard to all aspects of mitzvah observance and avodas hamiddos. But why was this technique employed here specifically, rather than in any other parashah of the Torah?

It seems as though this warning subtly relates back to the cheit of Nadav and Avihu, which was ever so slight and delicate, and this added dimension ofאַחֲרֵי מוֹת שְׁנֵי בְּנֵי אַהֲרֹן  is necessary here in order to properly convey the severity of their infraction.

A Subtle Mistake

Returning to the mashal, every sick person knows the benefit of staying warm. But at the same time, it’s hard to relate to the potential danger of the cold. While the person’s intellect might incorporate that the cold can be fatal, the heart has trouble internalizing that it’s truly hazardous, and that’s why the doctor adds, “so you shouldn’t die like so-and-so.”

To appreciate the subtle message here, we need to consider what was the root of Nadav and Avihu’s misdeed — with the disclaimer that we’re talking about kedoshei elyon, whose madreigah we cannot possibly comprehend. And, of course, any discussion of their cheit must be understood within the context of Hakadosh Baruch Hu’s being מדקדק עם צדיקים כחוט השערה. Still, according to most approaches in Chazal, there was some sort of cheit, and we are apprised of this in order to learn from it.

The Midrash presents at least half a dozen explanations as to what their cheit was, ranging from being drunk, to being מורה הלכה בפני רבו, to not getting married or not having children, to entering the kodesh hakodashim without an explicit command. There are so many opinions, and such varied opinions, yet they all seem to be purely in the realm of Torah Shebe’al Peh. How could it be that the Torah Shebichsav never gives us an inkling as to what the aveirah was?

I think the answer is that the Torah does tell us the root of their cheit, when it says, וַיַּקְרִבוּ לִפְנֵי ה’ אֵשׁ זָרָה אֲשֶׁר לֹא צִוָּה אֹתָם. Nadav and Avihu were kedoshei elyon who only sought greater kedushah and dveikus to Hakadosh Baruch Hu, and everyone agrees that their aveirah resulted from their trying so hard in their avodas Hashem.

They wanted to innovate a new offering of ketores in the kodesh hakodashim. Once a year on Yom Kippur was not enough; they wanted the kirvas Elokim of Neilah every day of their lives. They weren’t looking to get intoxicated, chas v’shalom. Rather, they felt that taking a small drink would enable them to reach even higher madreigos in their avodah. They abstained from marriage or child-rearing out of a desire to be totally focused on ruchniyus without any distractions or disturbances. With such noble and lofty intentions, what was wrong with what they did? And specifically, why was it so wrong that it warranted such a terrible punishment?

No Innovation

The Torah is telling us that although Nadav and Avihu had wonderful intentions, theirs was still an אֵשׁ זָרָה, an alien fire. What was so alien about it? That they had not been commanded to bring it: אֲשֶׁר לֹא צִוָּה אֹתָם. The trop on this phrase is a meircha kefulah, which adds strong emphasis.

With these few words, then, the passuk is conveying a crucial lesson. The details are left for the Torah Shebe’al Peh to fill in, in order to explain how, specifically, Nadav and Avihu tried to enhance their avodas Hashem. But all agree that the issue was that their attempt was alien, merely by virtue of the fact that they had not been commanded.

Yiddishkeit is not about innovation. It’s not about finding new avenues to achieve kedushah and dveikus. Rather, Yiddishkeit demands total avdus, in which we are mevatel ourselves to Hashem’s will. Of course, the desired result is kedushah and dveikus, but that is attained not through chiddush, but through steadfast bittul to ratzon Hashem. The Torah is not giving us general advice for how to be a good person and asking us to write the script. Rather, every mitzvah involves a commandment by a Commander to the one who is commanded, and that’s exactly the relationship that creates the highest level of dveikus — when we are mevatel ourselves completely to the Eibishter’s will.

Nadav and Avihu’s misdeed seems so subtle, because they had such wonderful kavanos and sought to find even higher ways of serving Hashem. But the Eibishter came down very hard on them and declared that if there was no command, then it is alien, a different religion. It may seem beautiful, but it’s no longer Yiddishkeit. Although the distinction is ever so slight, it represents a fundamental flaw that is punishable by death.

In Yiddishkeit, the highest madreigah is nullifying the zich through absolute avdus that is focused only the pure ratzon Hashem, with no innovations or diversions. What could possibly be wrong with this profound desire to enter the kodesh kodashim with ketores on a regular Tuesday? Says the Eibishter, this is not My ratzon. Hakadosh Baruch Hu has established a time for everything, and there are exact boundaries of kedushah at every given moment, so one cannot devise his own approach of prishus and dveikus. Moshe gave us the Torah at Har Sinai, clearly transmitting the ratzon Hashem and leaving no room to be מורה הלכה בפני רבו.

This is not an easy lesson, and it needs to be bolstered by the message of “so you shouldn’t die like so-and-so,” in order to convey the severity of אֲשֶׁר לֹא צִוָּה אֹתָם. And that’s why we needed to hear that additional phrase of אַחֲרֵי מוֹת שְׁנֵי בְּנֵי אַהֲרֹן.

Aharon’s Acceptance

Aharon Hakohen is lauded for reacting to this incredible blow without question: וַיִּדֹּם אַהֲרֹן. The Ramban informs us that initially, Aharon was terribly distraught, and was sobbing loudly. Only when Moshe Rabbeinu consoled him with the words בִּקְרֹבַי אֶקָּדֵשׁ וְעַל פְּנֵי כָל הָעָם אֶכָּבֵד was Aharon able to regain his composure and achieve total acceptance.

What consoled Aharon? The Malbim explains that he originally thought that this calamity was a punishment for sins, and when Moshe informed him that this is the ultimate ratzon Hashem — to create a tremendous kiddush Hashem and bring kavod to the Eibishter — then Aharon became at peace. What changed? He had still lost his beloved, holy sons!

Aharon Hakohen was such an absolute eved Hashem, and so exquisitely attuned to Hakadosh Baruch Hu’s will, that the moment he understood that the death of his sons was the ultimate ratzon Hashem, he became perfectly calm — because it was never about him or his will, only about what Hashem wants. And that was the consummate tikkun for the cheit of Nadav and Avihu.

Chazal tell us that as a reward for Aharon’s reaction, the parashah of שתויי יין was told to him alone. His silence — which spoke volumes about his bittul to Hashem’s will — was rewarded with the ultimate dveikus: a direct communication from Hakadosh Baruch Hu. Through him, we are taught this parashah of שתויי יין, which conveys the lesson that ratzon Hashem must be the sole guiding factor in our avodas Hashem.

Becoming a True Eved

It’s no wonder that this parashah of Nadav and Avihu serves as the introduction to this period between Pesach and Shavuos, when we work towards becoming absolute avdei Hashem that are worthy of תַּעַבְדוּן אֶת הָאֱלֹקִים עַל הָהָר הַזֶּה. As we leave the zman cheiruseinu of Pesach, when we began to feel the cheirus of being an eved Hashem and to appreciate that the only truly free person is one who is osek baTorah, we must focus on what it means to be a true eved Hashem.

The true eved Hashem is not someone who has found the new אֵשׁ זָרָה that feels so inspirational, but the one who is mevatel himself to the Eibishter’s ratzon and continuously focuses on one question: “What does the Torah command me to do?”

So often, we find ourselves in complex predicaments where right and wrong seem so gray, and clarity seems so distant. The gift of this parashah is that we have a central question that will guide us with clarity and give us the answer to every question. The guidepost that must illuminate our every decision is: “What does the Torah command me to do?”

May the Eibishter give us the koach to internalize these lessons, so that we can become true avdei Hashem who are worthy on Shavuos to receive the Torah.

Gut Shabbos.

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