Rabbi Yitzchak Breitowitz: Attaining Spiritual Greatness within the Halachik Framework

Okay, everybody. Thank thank you for for coming. And um I share this week is dedicated for a refoash shlema to Nata Ben Ziso, a shira na chamatova bat Sora, Baruch ben Frida, and for all of those whose health has been affected by the war and especially for the safe and quick return of our brothers and sisters held in captivity, uh as well as uh a blessing for the success of the IDF and Am Yisrael and the lasting unity of the people of Israel. Uh aliyat neshama Yitzchak Hirsch ben Eliezer and for the whole month of Adar Sheini, Arena and Mark Wastel are sponsoring this lecture series in honor of our brave fighters and for a speedy victory in Gaza and the safe return of all of our chayalim and all of the chatufim. And finally, once again, an anonymous donation was made for the nitzachon of all our chayalim and for all of our hostages to return safe. So, apparently, you know, properly so, many many people are thinking about this. We all should be thinking about this. And may Hashem's protection of all of Klal Yisrael uh and for the geulah shlema in our days, may we be zocheh to to realize uh that redemption. I have to say, you know, when I see the uh it's the motto on the buses, "B'yachad nenatzeach." I have to say it actually moves me, just that notion, "B'yachad nenatzeach." Together we will have that nitzachon, you know, even though it's just uh a motto that's going around, but it really expresses a very very fundamental truth that we should really be thinking about. In fact, uh if I may share a vort on the Haggadah, although it's a little still a little early, uh when it says in "V'hi She'amda," the famous words, "Shelo echad bilvad amad aleinu lechaloteinu, ela sheb'chol dor vador omdim aleinu lechaloteinu." So, the translation is, "It is not only one that is trying to destroy us, but in every generation there are those that arise to try to destroy us." And that, of course, is quite literally true. But the Sfas Emes has a nice linguistic twist. Instead of translating "Shelo echad bilvad," "It is not only one that is trying to destroy us," he translates it this way. It's a drash. "Shelo echad bilvad," "It is only the fact that we are not one that's amad aleinu lechaloteinu, that has stood up to destroy us." That's the only thing. "Shelo echad bilvad is amad aleinu lechaloteinu." Of course, it do- it doesn't fit the next part of the sentence, but nevertheless, in terms of the words in isolation, it's a beautiful thought that we should all be thinking about. I've already said it many many times, so forgive me for repeating, that if there's a silver lining to a dark cloud, it was that when the war broke out on October 7th, at least temporarily, Klal Yisrael was achieving a certain level of unity and togetherness and empathy uh that had been sorely lacking in the months and the years before that. If you remember, before October 7th, we were totally engulfed in this uh in retrospect it looks like a kleinakait, something very trivial, this judicial reform debate that was going on and on and people were talking about the end of democracy in the state of Israel and uh people on the left were going to leave the country and pull out their investments. And by the way, who knows if that emboldened Hamas to some degree because they figured that even soldiers were saying they weren't going to report for duty. Um baruch Hashem, they didn't. And then Brett comes October 7th, Simchat Torah, that it really changed everybody's lives and real made us realize how vulnerable indeed we are even in this great state of Israel with great security and military intelligence and the like. And for a while, uh we were really working together. Uh even chareidim were either enlisting in the army or or they were at least giving support, making tzitzis, uh all sorts of things. And the chilonim were open to teshuvah and and mitzvos. And baruch Hashem, a lot of the activity is still going still going on. And one should, you know, be cognizant of that. But unfortunately, life has the tendency to get back to normal a little too quickly sometimes. And I think we're already seeing that some of that unity is beginning to uh fray uh somewhat. And that would be a double tragedy, meaning we have the tragedy of the war and the captives. And then we have the tragedy of not growing from that experience and then simply being the same people who were before. I remember that there was a similar issue with Corona. Everybody was saying, "Oh, Corona, you know, which I thought was an overreaction, that's a parsha for another discussion. Uh I'm sure there'll be many doctoral dissertations on the mass hysteria of the world uh for the years of Corona. But putting that aside, everybody was saying, "Oh, you know, uh we don't have minyanim and schools are closed and yeshivas are closed and uh shuls are closed. But when we finally get back, we will appreciate the idea of community, the idea of being together because we were separated for so long and it'll be so great and so wonderful the day after." Well, baruch Hashem, it is the day after Corona, so to speak. But you know, in terms of that, I I can't say that Corona has really totally transformed our consciousness of community. Uh there was a potential there and uh we really did not build on it that much. And uh tragically, sadly, uh we're beginning to see that even in this milchama that we're engaged in. So, yeah, something to think about. Meaning, when Hakadosh Baruchu puts all of these traumatic events in our lives, we do have an achrayus to think about how we're supposed to respond. You know, people always want to know, "Why does God do things?" Rav Soloveitchik used to say very nicely, he says, "One should never approach the issue of suffering as a matter of theology. One should approach it as a matter of halacha." Now, what he means is this. Theology is asking, "Why did God do something?" Halacha always focuses on, "What do I do in a given situation?" He says, "Halachic type questions," meaning, "How do I respond to a situation?" is a very meaningful question. "Why God did something?" perhaps is beyond our ability to fully understand. So, don't focus on, "Why did God do it?" but focus in general as, "What do I do?" This is b'klal how we respond to adversity of any type. "What do I gain from this? How do I grow from this? How do I become a better person from this?" And therefore, I have to have that type of orientation that focuses on me. Okay, so forgive the uh little bit of commercial. Um what I want to talk about today is I do want to talk about uh the beginning of the parsha, but first a little chronology because people are sometimes uh a bit confused. Uh when did we begin building the Mishkan? We began building the Mishkan the day after Yom Kippur. On Yom Kippur, Moshe Rabbeinu came down from Har Sinai with the second luchos. Remember, the first luchos were smashed because of the chet ha'egel. He went up for 40 days and prayed, went down. And then the last time, the third time, he went up on Rosh Chodesh Elul and 40 days later is Yom Kippur, he comes down with the luchos shniyos. In fact, this is one of the proverbial chicken and egg problems. Uh is Yom Kippur a day of forgiveness because that is when God gave Moshe the second tablets and therefore that made the day a day of forgiveness? Or is it the other way around? Because it was Yom Kippur, God forgave us and gave Moshe the second luchos. Like, which which came first? But for our purposes, that's not a difference. So, Moshe Rabbeinu comes down on Yom Kippur. The day after Yom Kippur, he gathers Am Yisrael. That's Vayakhel Moshe. He gathers them and he says, "We're going to build a Mishkan for God." And people begin donating and we have Betzalel, who, by the way, according to Chazal, was only a 13-year-old. Think about that. Betzalel was very very young. And right, to talk about giving your teen responsibilities, uh he was in charge of the whole Mishkan uh project with ruach hakodesh and nevuah and even understanding things that Moshe didn't understand. There are certain details that Betzalel understood. Uh so, they constructed the Mishkan, or at least the donations and then the construction, essentially from the day after Yom Kippur. Now, Chazal tell us the following, it's not in the Chumash, that actually the Mishkan was finished, everything was finished Chanukah time, in Kislev. But God did not want to dedicate the Mishkan in Kislev, he wanted to defer it to the month of Nisan, which is the month of the Exodus and the month of the birth of Yitzchak Avinu, who is considered to be the foundation of avodah. So, therefore, in the period between Kislev and Nisan, the materials are all there, but there's no structure that was erected. And that's why the Medrash tells us that the month of Kislev complained to God, this is a pesikta Medrash pesikta, because the because you took away our chance to be the month of dedication. And God essentially promised, "I'll make it up to you." And hence we have the dedication of the Beis Hamikdash, Chanukah, hundreds of years later. Okay. So, the Mishkan was dedicated in Nissan, but here's the thing. If you If you look at, you know, last week's parsha and this week's parsha, we see a following sequence. There were seven preliminary days of consecration. And these are called shivat yemei hamiluim. And during those seven days of preliminary consecration, Moshe Rabbeinu himself erected the whole Mishkan and took it down every single day. Up, down, up, down. That's one thing. Number two, for those seven days only, Moshe was actually the cohen. There were special sacrifices that were brought and they were not brought by Aaron. They were brought by Moshe. And if you look at the nature of the sacrifices, it was a way of Moshe, so to speak, koshering the Kohanim. Meaning, every day he brought the sacrifices, he would anoint the Kohanim, Aaron and his sons with special, uh, oil, an oil of anointing, shemen hamishcha. He would dress them in their bigdei kehuna. He would sprinkle the blood of the korbanos on them. Essentially, he is inaugurating them to take on their status of Kohanim. But for the shivat yemei hamiluim, they were not the Kohanim. Moshe Rabbeinu was the cohen who was inaugurating them. That was last parsha. Last week's parsha discussed the seven days of consecration. This week's parsha begins vayhi bayom hashmini, on the eighth day. This is when Aaron and his sons, at the beginning of the parsha, Aaron has four sons, we'll see that two of them died, but Aaron has four sons at this point, they began the avodah. So, this is the eighth day. Now, here is the problem. Both in terms of the seven days of miluim and the eighth day, the Torah does not give me a calendar date. It doesn't tell me when that was. However, we know from parshas pikudei that the Mishkan was erected Rosh Chodesh Nissan. So, let me just go over a basic machlokes, which is really a machlokes in Chazal, between Rashi and the Ibn Ezra. When it says in parshas pikudei that the Mishkan was erected Rosh Chodesh Nissan, does that mean the final erection of day eight or the first erection of the seven preliminary days? In other words, the following. The way Rashi understands it, the seven days of consecration began the 23rd of Adar. Like this this week. In other words, when Moshe Rabbeinu put up the Mishkan, took down the Mishkan, when he brought the korbanos, when he would anoint Aaron, when he would sprinkle the blood on the Kohanim, that was 23rd of Adar until Rosh Chodesh Nissan. And therefore, the eighth day, the Yom Hashmini, which is the permanent erection and Aaron is Rosh Chodesh Nissan. So, according to shitas Rashi, the Mishkan was finally dedicated and Aaron was given the responsibility on Rosh Chodesh Nissan. And therefore, according to Rashi, the phrase "It was on the eighth day." It means the eighth day following the seven days of consecration, but it's not the eighth day of Nissan. It is actually the first day of Nissan. So, according to Rashi, Yom Hashmini is Rosh Chodesh Nissan. Rashi learns this way consistently throughout the Torah whenever the issue comes up. In fact, Rashi makes the point that on that day they also brought sacrifices of Rosh Chodesh even though it's not indicated, because Rashi understands that the Yom Hashmini was Rosh Chodesh. Now, the Ibn Ezra, and again, the fact that the Ibn Ezra may be contradicting Chazal, you know, didn't bother the Ibn Ezra, so maybe it shouldn't bother us. The Ibn Ezra had a certain freedom in interpreting the way he thought the pesukim were mashma, learns differently. He actually learns that the seven days of miluim began Rosh Chodesh Nissan. So, for the first seven days of Nissan, that is when Moshe Rabbeinu would put up the Mishkan, take it down, uh, brought the korbanos, anointed Aaron, sprinkled blood, etc. And therefore, Yom Hashmini, which is the day that Aaron entered the kehuna and, uh, the Mishkan was permanently erected, is both the eighth day after the seven days of consecration and the eighth day of Nissan. So, the kids are again, I don't want to elaborate on it too much, but just to understand the chronology a little bit, that according to Rashi, the events of the eighth day that we're going to be describing is Rosh Chodesh Nissan. According to the Ibn Ezra, the events of the eighth day that we're describing is the eighth of Nissan. And therefore, we have a big machlokes, what is the day of the permanent erection of the Mishkan and the day that Aaron HaCohen entered into the avodah. Now, it is interesting that the mainstream view of Chazal in in the Gemara and in the Medrash does indeed follow Rashi's opinion. But the Ibn Ezra does have one very, very interesting, I don't think he brings it, but but there is one interesting makor to the Ibn Ezra. I want to share it with you. If you remember, uh, the Mishkan is dedicated either Rosh Chodesh Nissan or the eighth of Nissan, whatever it is, and shortly afterwards, they're going to bring, of course, the korban Pesach. Right? And then you remember the famous story that there were people who were tamei, ritually impure, and were not able to bring the korban Pesach, and they went to God, or they went to Moshe, rather, and they said, "Why should we be deprived?" And Moshe didn't know, and we'll talk about that when we get to it, but, uh, he went to God, and God basically said, "Okay, they get a second chance. Let them bring it 1 month later." And this is the din of Pesach sheini. Now, the question is, why were they tamei? What made them ritually impure? So, there is an opinion that says they were ritually impure because they were the Leviim who had to carry out the bodies. And we'll talk about this, of Nadav and Avihu, who died. Right? Aaron's two sons who died, which we'll talk about, and therefore, they were ritually impure. Now, let's think about that. When you come in contact with a dead body, you are only tamei for seven days. Now, according to Rashi, the death of Nadav and Avihu, which occurred be Yom Hashmini, it occurred Rosh Chodesh Nissan. If it occurred Rosh Chodesh Nissan, there's no reason why they would still be impure on Erev Pesach when you bring the korban Pesach, which is the 14th of Nissan. But like the Ibn Ezra, the chronology works very, very well. Because according to the Ibn Ezra, if they became tamei on the eighth of Nissan, that's when they buried Nadav and Avihu, so day one is eight, nine, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14. So, day 14 is still the seventh day, and you don't become tahor till nightfall. And therefore, when the korban Pesach had to be brought on the 14th, they were still not in a state of purity. So, it is fascinating that the mande amar that says that the people who were tamei was because of Nadav and Avihu is a proof to the Ibn Ezra. But apparently, Rashi must be following the other view. There's another view that says the people that were tamei is because it was their turn to carry the bones of Yosef. There was a rotation, and therefore, they happened to be tamei. So, that could have been any one of the days. Right? So, that machlokes may actually bear on the chronology of first of Nissan or eighth of Nissan. Okay. But be it as it may, therefore, uh, the eighth day, and of course, the whole idea of eighth day is very very symbolic, you know, uh, even in English, there's an expression, the eighth day. Brit milah is, of course, the eighth day. Uh, Thornton is a Thornton Wilder, Thornton Well, yeah, Thornton Wilder, I guess you pronounce it, the famous, uh, American playwright and novelist, wrote a novel called The Eighth Day, which is essentially a very symbolic novel about the the meaning of eight. And again, the idea is that the natural cycle of the world is six days of creation followed by a Shabbat. And then the cycle starts over and over again. So, the world of nature, albeit with sanctity, is connected to eight at to seven. Eight is that which is above the natural order. The Maharal writes, I don't want to digress too much on this. This is why brit milah is the eighth day, because God's relationship with the Jewish people is above nature. It's miraculous. I often mention, forgive me for repeating, uh, there was a famous British historian, Arnold Toynbee, who was very popular in the '40s, '50s, even into the 60s. And he wrote a huge multi-volume work called a study in history in which he analyzed 50 ancient civilizations. You know, from the Babylonians, the Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Hittites, the Amorites, uh the Jews, of course, the Greeks until the Greeks and the Romans, all the ancient civilizations. And he wanted to develop a thesis what causes civilizations to flourish and what causes them to decline. So, imagine the amount of data that he had to correlate. And he And he certainly he developed certain patterns that cause success and cause failure. 49 of these 50 civilizations fit his uh thesis exactly. Meaning he could show why Babylonia collapsed and he could show why Rome collapsed and he could show common denominators, etc. Baruch Hashem, that's pretty good. But when he came to the Jews, it didn't compute. Based on his formula, there ought not to be a Jewish people. They didn't have for a lot of their history a common language, they didn't have common land, we were not in the land a lot. Meaning we shouldn't exist. Now, Toynbee was known to be an anti-Semite. That was very very well known. But you know, I think to myself in a jocular way, you know, maybe I can't blame him that much. I mean, the guy works on a a 10,000-page book uh for for 30 years. And the Jews ruined it for him, you know? So, yeah, I don't blame him. He's a little mad, little angry at the at the Jewish people. But because of this, he coined the phrase that he could not explain the existence of the Jewish people. They are a fossil. It's like finding a dinosaur, you know, in amber or something. Meaning it shouldn't exist. And that was very controversial. In fact, um the late uh Yaakov Herzog, the uncle of uh the president of Israel, the one of the son of Chief Rabbi Yitzhak Herzog, who was a frum person and a talmid chacham, but he had he was uh for a while he was uh the Israeli ambassador to the UN, a very articulate, brilliant person. So, he engaged in this debate. This was a famous thing in the 60s. It was called the Herzog-Toynbee Debate. You can actually get get it on YouTube. In which uh Toynbee said, "No, the Jews really shouldn't exist at all." And And Herzog, you know, tried to counter that argument. But here, what I would suggest is this. If Toynbee is making the point that under the rules of history, there ought not to be a Jewish people, I think the answer is, "Yeah, he is correct." Because we live on the level of eight. We live above nature. So, yeah, as a matter of nature, as a matter of historical causality, we ought not to be here. Our existence is supernatural. Our existence is miraculous. That is exactly why the number eight actually appears in a lot of contexts. The dedication of the Mishkan is day eight, whatever day eight means, Rosh Chodesh Nissan or eighth of Nissan. Brit Milah is day eight. In the Holy of Holies, when the Kohen Gadol sprinkles the blood, you'll notice essentially it's eight. You know, one one up, uh seven down, but ultimately it's it's eight. Because eight is always above nature. Brit Milah, God's relationship to Am Yisrael is above nature. Um the Mishkan, the Shechinah coming into the world is above nature. Teshuvah, forgiveness, Yom Kippur is above nature. There's a deep significance in the notion of eight. And in fact, Rav Yaakov Emden writes that people always ask, "Why doesn't God do miracles anymore?" And he says, "If you contemplate the survival of the Jewish people, that is a greater miracle than the 10 plagues and the splitting of the Red Sea. It doesn't make any sense." In fact, even Ben-Gurion, who was hardly a religious source, uh said that in Israel, um a If you believe in miracles, you're a rationalist. In other words, uh this the only way The only way to explain what's going on is believing in miracles. So, if you don't believe in miracles, if you think we can do this as a matter of nature, you're just irrational, right? So, the rationalist is the one that has to believe in um in miracles. So, this is a great day. The eighth day is a great day. It's a day of simcha. It's a day of joy. Aaron HaKohen is inaugurated in the Kehunah Gedolah. His four sons, Nadav and Avihu, Elazar and Ithamar, are now going to be the Kohanim. But then something happens which again, we've experienced this in our own lives and even October 7th in which a joyous day gets converted into a day of sadness, a day of tragedy. It says Nadav and Avihu, the oldest sons of Aaron, they took a strange fire, an eish zarah, and they brought it into the Mishkan. I'll explain what what that what that is. And then anger came from God and consumed them. And they died. They died on the day of the Mishkan being dedicated. Nadav and Avihu tragically died, leaving only uh two sons uh with Aaron and and the like. And uh you'll recall that uh the Chumash makes the point, Vayidom Aharon. Aaron's response was total silence. Which really has a little bit of two connotations, really. There's two connotations in the silence of Aaron. One is the unconditional acceptance of God's decree without complaint, without question. That's how it's commonly understood. Vayidom Aharon is Aaron's great idea of accepting God. The other is another way of looking at it is he was so devastated that he was beyond the ability to articulate words. Meaning you can look at it as the magnitude of his grief and you can look at it as his unconditional acceptance of God. But if you recall, the Torah then goes on and says that Aaron and his remaining sons were not allowed to observe whatever mourning was That's not so clear what what the halachos of mourning was anyway, but it says, you know, "Don't let your hair grow long like a mourner, etc. Don't rip your garments." In other words, they were actually commanded not to mourn the deaths of their of Aaron's sons and their brother on that particular day. So, notice that part of the Chumash as well. They were told not to mar that simcha. This is one of the sources of the idea that on Yom Tov, a mourner does not observe the laws of mourning. Like Shabbos and Yom Tov. Uh because basically this was a holiday. This was the day of the dedication of the Mishkan, you don't mourn. Um okay. So, the big question is, what on earth is the reason that Nadav and Avihu died? Why did they die? And why did they die on that particular day? So, the truth of the matter is, we actually have a cornucopia of reasons. We have no fewer than six or seven reasons that are given. Rashi brings a reason that they had entered the Beit HaMikdash uh the the Mishkan. They had entered the Mishkan after drinking some wine, after drinking some intoxicating beverage. And it's true that a Kohen is not allowed to enter the Beit HaMikdash in a state of intoxication. Now, the proof, by the way, doesn't mean being drunk. Even if you drank just a a revi'is, you drank 4 oz of wine. Uh you you're not allowed to go into the Beit HaMikdash or the Mishkan until you slept it off for a half an hour or whatever it would be. Um So, in fact, a Kohen who drinks is not supposed to dukhen. Meaning you know, the That's why the Ashkenazi custom, you'll recall, well, in Eretz Yisrael, we dukhen every day. But But uh in in Chutz La'Aretz, where dukhening is normally only during Musaf, you might remember that many shuls on Simchas Torah do not dukhen in Musaf, they dukhen in Shacharis. And the reason is because Shacharis, nobody drank anything yet. By Musaf, after they got their aliyah, they might drink, and a Kohen who drank should not dukhen, and therefore they moved dukhening to Shacharis. In Eretz Yisrael, of course, we dukhen at least two shuls, we dukhen uh Shacharis and Musaf, so that doesn't that doesn't come up. But the Kohanim were told not to drink. Exactly Exactly right. Um So, the proof for Rashi is that right after Nadav and Avihu died, God gave Moshe the halachos about not drinking. There the implication was that look at what happened to them cuz they drank. Now, I'll just throw out a question. I'm not going to answer the question cuz I want to go on to a different point. And that is this is what the US Constitution, lehavdil, calls an ex post facto law. You can't punish somebody for something they did that was legal at the time that becomes illegal later. Meaning you did something and we passed a law you're not allowed to do that. Okay, so that's perspective. Anybody who violates it after the law is passed can be punished, but you can't punish a person last year because of a law that you passed this year. That makes a lot of sense. It's not fair. So, if the law against drinking was a result of not of an idea of death, how could that be the reason for their death? At the time they drank, there was no halacha against that. Unless you're going to say that they should have figured it out, that they were righteous enough, that they should have known it's improper even though it wasn't concretized as a law. Okay, but let's list some of the reasons. So, reason number one is they drank. Okay. Reason number two. They didn't want to marry because they figured that marriage would distract them. They were kind of the have deal of course like Catholic priests. They They made a decision. They wanted to be celibates. They thought that would be a holier state and in Judaism it's the other way around. That's an improper state and therefore they were punished for that. Okay. Uh reason number three. They would pass skin halachic questions in the presence of Mosha and Aaron. When someone would ask Mosha a shaila, Nadav and Avihu would kind of interrupt and give their view. That's profoundly disrespectful and that's another reason why they were punished. Reason number four, which is almost similar, is that they would sometimes say to themselves, "When will these old fogies get out of the way? When will Mosha and Aaron die so we can take over the leadership?" It's kind of connected to the notion of pass skinning halacha in the presence of Mosha and Aaron. I'm losing count here, but I think I'm reason number five is that they didn't wear all of the big day Kahuna. When a Kahane officiates in the Mishkan, the Kahane is supposed to wear a specific uniform and if you're not wearing every single article of that uniform, the avodah is passel and you're liable for misah in the hands of heaven and therefore they were missing big garments. They were lacking big garments. Reason number six, if I'm counting correctly, is the following. In truth, Nadav and Avihu deserved to die all the way back to the day of Matan Torah on Shavuot. If you recall, there is a scene in Parshas Mishpatim that there was a visualization of God sitting on his sapphire on his throne and at his feet there was sapphire brick and it mentions the youth of Israel were gazing at the Shechinah and they were eating and drinking. Now, it does not say in the passuk that's improper, but Chazal understood that this was an improper gazing at the Shechinah and the youth were none other than Nadav and Avihu and they should have died at the time of Matan Torah, but God didn't want to mar the joy of Matan Torah. This is also a little strange. So, he deferred it to the day of the Mishkan. I mean, if God doesn't want to mar the day, why choose that day? But still it says he didn't want to mar Matan Torah. Oh, and the final reason that's given is that because of Aaron's participation in the sin of the golden calf, he and all four of his children should have been destroyed, but Mosha Rabbeinu's prayer saved two of the children, which means Nadav and Avihu are dying because of the cheit ha'egel. They are the residual casualties of the cheit ha'egel. So, I think I've given you seven different reasons for the sin of Nadav and Avihu. Problem is, the one in this whole cornucopia of reasons after reasons, the one reason that's not stated is the reason the Torah itself gives. The Torah gives a reason. The Torah says they brought foreign fire to God. Now, again, what would that mean? Just just in terms of I'm just reading the Chumash. What does it mean they brought foreign fire to God? The answer is this, that normally when you burn incense on the inner golden altar, the small golden altar in the Mishkan, you're supposed to take coals from the outer mizbeach and the outer mizbeach has fire that came from heaven. Nadav and Avihu, for reasons we'll have to explain, decided they wanted to augment the aish min hashamaim with their own coals. They brought in their own coals and that's called a quite literally that's called a foreign fire and they were destroyed because they brought in a foreign fire. They were supposed to take the aish min hashamaim, the fire from heaven that's burning on the altar. So, the problem is very obvious. Why do Chazal give seven other reasons for the death of Nadav and Avihu and seemingly ignore the one reason the Chumash itself gives? The answer must be that Chazal are not ignoring the idea of foreign fire, but rather the seven aveiros are really a commentary on the meaning of what foreign fire means. Now, this foreign fire was understood as not only the specific sin of bringing in coals me bachutz, but it also has a reference to a another phenomenon that could be described by the seven aveiros that we mentioned. And that is all of us know that fire is a very symbolic term. Fire often refers to passion, excitement. Right? We talk about aish Torah, right? Or sameach generates light. Aish Torah generates heat. No. Uh but there's the fire of Torah, passion. Right? That's a good thing when it's done in the right way. Uh so, here is the problem that we have. There was an old conflict in Judaism between the internal spiritual state of a person who wants to cleave to God and the details of a halachic lifestyle that sometimes seem to inhibit or constrict the expressiveness of my spirituality. In other words, the mystical spiritual temperament can sometimes tend, I'm going to use a highfalutin word, can sometimes tend towards antinomianism. Antinomianism simply means I'm against laws. I'm against rules. A spiritual person wants to connect to the infinite. A spiritual person wants to feel love and fear of God. I want to feel the presence of the Almighty. Don't tell me about not ripping toilet paper on Shabbos. I just don't see how that makes me a more spiritual person. The minutiae, the detail one after the other. I want to focus on the big picture and don't get lost in labyrinths of detail. So, as a result, we often find the idea that people who are very very deeply spiritual are often very impatient with halachic detail. They feel it's slowing them up. It's inhibiting them. At the other extreme, a person can kind of become an OCD and almost an obsessive-compulsive person. I mean this in a non-nonclinical sense in terms of every detail, but they lack passion. They don't think of Hashem. They don't have a relationship with God. They kind of use the halacha as a substitute to connecting to Hakadosh Baruch Hu. In fact, I remember I was once years and years ago, I was once talking about developing a connection with God. So, somebody told me, says, "I'm very uncomfortable when you use God talk. Uh let's talk about connection to Torah, connection to mitzvahs. Connection to God sounds too Christian. Connection to God, you know, don't don't let's not talk about that." But in reality, there is a purpose to mitzvahs after all, right? Mitzvahs are not just a bunch of arbitrary things. Mitzvahs are vehicles that are supposed to connect us to God. So, if we don't think about our relationship to God, we're missing the point. Now, of course, let let me hasten to add, it's better to do mitzvahs even without that conscious intention than not to do them at all. But this was an early machlokes in the early years of Chassidim of Chassidus in which some Chassidic teachings, I wouldn't say from the authoritative ones, but maybe this was a distortion, took the point that the only important thing in avodas Hashem is the inner subjectivity of your spiritual feelings. And if Halakhic detail is going to interfere with that inner spirituality, then it's better to not keep the Halakha. As a result, some said that's why you could have it when it's not the Zman because if I can have more Kavana at 11:30 in the afternoon or 2:00 in the afternoon than at 7:00 in the morning, well, what does Hashem want? Does Hashem want a superficial reading of the Shema when I'm falling half asleep at 7:00 and I made the Zman? Or does he want a passionate Shema filled with love of Hashem even if it's 2:00 in the afternoon? Now, again, this may sound ludicrous today, but but this was a live controversy and the truth is it hasn't gone totally away even today. So, there were aspects of early Hasidus. Again, I I want to point out right away that the Baal Hatanya notably absolutely rejected this position. And that's why he writes in the Tanya about the importance of Halakha. So, I am not talking about the Baal Hatanya and the like, but there were certain aspects of Hasidus that were highly antinomian. Meaning they said, you know, the most important thing is your Dveikus. The most important thing is your inner spiritual state. When Halakha's inhibiting you, then the rules aren't aren't that important. Reb Chaim Volozhin, as well as Reb Shneur Zalman, Reb Shneur Zalman wrote Tanya. Reb Chaim Volozhin wrote Nefesh HaChaim. It's around the same time. Tanya was a little earlier. Were essentially polemical works in part in part to combat that idea. To basically say, yeah, of course, the goal is to love God. The goal is to revere God. The goal is Dveikus to God. But you can't accomplish that framework. You can't accomplish those goals except in the framework of compliance with Halakha. You know, Reb Chaim Volozhin gives a humorous example. Let's assume Pesach is coming up and let's assume that by the time the Seder night comes, you are dead tired. You've been working. You've been cleaning. You've been scrubbing. You can barely You see, the woman of the house that does more of the work, but whoever's doing the work here or both, you're so exhausted. You know, you're going to fall asleep in the middle of the Seder and the four cups of wine are not going to help uh and that, right? So, let's assume you make the following decision. This is actually from Reb Chaim Volozhin. He said, you know, listen, we just need a break. We've been exhausted. So, how about let's skip the Seder tonight. Let's go to bed early. And then tomorrow morning or maybe maybe even the Shabbos Chol HaMoed, we'll make a gevaldige Seder. We'll be rested. We'll be enthusiastic. We'll be creative. Our minds will be sharp. Our spirits will be high. Come on. Which Seder does God want more? A Seder where we're falling asleep, which happens to be the right time, or a Seder with geshmack and with passion? So, Reb Chaim Volozhin says, it's ludicrous. Uh yeah, it's it's nice to have a nice Shabbos meal, but but you know, you're not mekayem the Seder with that. I mean, you got to serve God the way God defined it. You can't make up your own rules. Because then your relationship to God is really narcissistic and egotistical. What? I love God. I fear God, but I just don't want to go by his rules? That's an oxymoron. You don't really love God. It's just like you're your own thing. So, that's why he wrote this. Now, if this sounds obvious, in truth, a lot of great fundamental ideas are obvious because he made it obvious. Meaning, when he wrote it, it was a live controversy. It was not such a simple It was not such a simple uh thing. By the way, just to show you that uh life imitates art, I was once giving this example to a group of people who were not uh Orthodox at the time. And a woman said and and I was using this as a reductive ad absurdum, an example of something that's so preposterous, so illogical that nobody in a million years would ever think, oh, let's make the Seder in the middle of the week. I I thought this was like an obvious example. So, a woman just says casually, yeah, yeah, we did that last year. We couldn't get the family together uh for the Seder, so we decided the week after Pesach we would have a Passover Seder with matzah and everything. And it was great. It was the most wonderful experience. Everybody was happy and uh you know, and and and the like. And the kids could even have some bread on the side, you know, cuz which indeed indeed that was okay, too. So, so So, you see what things where things go in this world. Things that were so absurd and so obvious that nobody in a million years would ever think about it. People do it. You know, that's that's the that's the way that's the way it is. Okay. So, now, here is the thing. Metaphorically, the term Eish Zarah refers to a misplaced, foreign, passionate desire to serve God, but not within the confines of his Halakhic system. Nadav and Avihu were righteous, holy people. They had a passion to be connected to God. But they felt that the detailed Halakhic rules inhibited them. So, they had a certain cheshbon. And the cheshbon was, okay, rules are for regular people. Regular people who are not capable of a direct relationship to God need to have procedures. But we are capable of a direct relationship. The rules shouldn't apply to us because we don't need them as stepping stones. There actually is a certain logic to this. And that is, you know, some have even said, the Torah is kind of given as an average. You know, most people need the need these things. Of course, we believe everybody needs them, but but their cheshbon was, it's not for us. By the way, I I I want to add, I don't want to get into the issue of sexual abuse and the like, but unfortunately, to this very day, there have been tragic, sad examples of some rabbis, I put it in quotation marks, who felt that rules like Yichud, not being alone with a woman, and Negiah didn't apply to them because they felt they were on a certain level of sanctity where they don't have to worry about negative consequences. Of course, what happened is exactly as you would expect. They violate those rules and all the negative consequences happened. Right? The notion of being above the law. So, the basic idea is Nadav and Avihu were antinomianists who believed that the detailed and I'll show how this fits the seven. Who felt that the details of the Halakha should not apply. Now, here is something that's very tantalizing and maybe daring. It could very well be that they were actually right. But God took them from the world because their philosophy was too dangerous to be emulated by others. See, it's very interesting. This is a whole open question. I can I can get in big trouble for this. Is there such a spiritual idea as a private deal with God? Right? The Torah is the overall contract. Are there Yechidim in the world who can kind of negotiate their own deal? Now, just as a matter of logic, none of us can make that judgment. But we're asking theoretically, is there a concept of private deals? Right? We know in contracts, right? You have contracts that apply and then people negotiate their private deals. It could very well be I say this just as a possibility that Nadav and Avihu may have had their private deal with God. But people who have their private deals cannot be leaders of the Jewish community. They cannot be our guides. They cannot be our teachers. They cannot be our inspiration because they will lead us down a path that is dangerous and devastating. A path of no return. So, seen in this way, their death might be understood not so much as a punishment, but as the idea that they these are not people that are suitable or capable of being leaders. In fact, this could be why Moshe Rabbeinu said to Aaron, they are more righteous than us. They may have had a deeper relationship to God than we have. But God took them because they were otherworldly. They they weren't living by the rules. It's a very complicated idea. In some ways, I don't want to get into into specifics that much, but that might explain why some rebbe's daven shacharis, you know, 3:00 in the afternoon. It's They They actually have They have a private deal on some level, you know, we we don't understand that. That's not for us to imitate. It's not for us to follow. They work it They work it out with God one way or the other. But the story of Nadav and Avihu does say that that's not a model for us to follow. We can't follow that model. We got to stick with the basic rules. So now, if you understand that aish zarah is this misplaced destructive passion, then all of the aveiros fit that particular paradigm. Let's go I I don't know if I'll say it in the same order. Let's take the first aveirah, drinking wine. Now, obviously, the assumption is pashut, they they they didn't enter drunk. They were not intoxicated. But they drank wine because they thought that the stimulant of alcohol will bring them to a higher level of simcha, and even if the halacha said it's assur, but so what? For us, the ikar is our subjective state of joy. And therefore, once again, it's an example of saying, let's violate the halacha for the higher purpose of deveikus Hashem. Not getting married. They took the cheshbon that because of our holiness, we should not be involved in sexuality, we should not be involved in creating a family. We need to be separated. But once again, that's not the halachic system. The halachic system says pru urvu. Yeah, their motivation was holiness. Their motivation was sanctity. But it was a sanctity not within the balance of halacha. It's like the nun or the priest that says, I'm married to God. Okay, but God doesn't want that to be an exclusive marriage. I mean, we are actually all married to God, but we need to be married to people also. Uh the notion of paskening halacha in the presence of Moshe and Aaron, or waiting for Moshe and Aaron to die, essentially, this is an impatience with what Moshe and Aaron represent. Moshe and Aaron represent the established order. Moshe and Aaron represent the rules. Moshe and Aaron represent the laws. Nadav and Avihu want to replace that with spiritual subjectivity, feeling and passion. And therefore, they had a certain impatience with Moshe and Aaron kind of laboriously, step by step, lay laying out laying out the rules. Uh lack of garments. Remember not wearing all of the bigdei kehunah. Well, once again, metaphorically, clothes is what kind of separates me, right? In other words, I'm separated from you because I have garments. Taking off the garments is removal of separation. In fact, that is one of the reasons bedavka in halacha, uh even in marital intimacy, you know, the there's not supposed to be a barrier of of clothing. So, Nadav and Avihu not wearing all of the garments symbolizes we want a direct connection with the Almighty without barriers, without inhibitions, without limitations. See, it's all connected to that notion of the foreign passion. Then we come to the idea of matan Torah. They were chayav misah at the time of matan Torah. Well, why were they chayav misah? They were gazing at the Shechinah without a sense of limitation, without a sense of boundary, without a sense of structure. Once again, that's a foreign passion. Because on one hand, we have to love we should we should love God, but we also need to have our distance, to have reverence from God for God. You can't just look at God as your best buddy that you can do whatever you want anytime you want to do it. And finally, we come to the idea that Nadav and Avihu residually died because or they they they were the residual casualties of the golden calf. Now, the golden calf itself is an example of an attempt to connect to God by violating its halachic directives. Remember the Ramban and the Kuzari that nobody thought the egol was the creator of heaven and earth, but they felt that they needed a spiritual intermediary to connect to the Almighty. They thought Moshe was their intermediary, and they felt they needed some tangible intermediary that would give them a a greater sense of intimacy with Hashem. Well, that's a great idea, but God said not to do that in the 10 Commandments. Therefore, once again, it's an example of saying the rules don't apply to us. We can go beyond those particular rules. So, essentially, what is being described here is the idea that the spiritual temperament, the passion of love of Hashem and reverence for God has to be within a halachic framework because otherwise, it becomes narcissistic. Now, it may very well be, I'll repeat, that there may be individuals who are so great that they can have their passions transcend halachic rules, but under no circumstances can they be our role models. Can they be our leaders. Because we have to live within the framework of Hakadosh Baruch Hu's laws. And then essentially, therefore, one could look at the whole story of Nadav and Avihu as a confirmation of the great point of the Nefesh HaChaim and the Baal HaTanya that although the goal of mitzvos is, of course, to connect us to God, but we have to recognize that our connection to God has to be in Hakadosh Baruch Hu's terms. He defines the parameters of the relationship. It's not up to us to tell Hashem how we are going to relate to him. And when one tries to do so, that's going to have disastrous consequences. So, the truth is, it actually is a dilemma. And I got I mean, I see this in in Or Sameach all the time. You know, I mean, in some ways it's almost funny, although it's it's sad at the same time. And that is a person comes to a yeshiva or to a seminary or to any type of Jewish religious school because they feel a yearning that they want to be connected to God. They have a passion. They have a love of Hashem. They have a reverence for Hashem. And they want to be inspired. And although Baruch Hashem, there there are many classes that do inspire people, but a lot of what is taught in in particular maybe more so in a in a in a men's yeshiva than a women's seminary. So, I know that let's take Gemara, right? This is it's almost it's almost funny. You know, they're going to have their first class in Gemara. Wow, Talmud. And they say, ah, the Talmud will teach me the meaning of life, the purpose of life, the the reason for human existence. Why am I here? What is my goal in life? I am so excited. I'll finally get answers to everything that troubles me. I will have the answer to my search. And they come with that enthusiasm. Again, it's it's almost funny. It would be funny if it wouldn't be sad. So, they're sitting. The Gemara is open. And all of a sudden, we're reading something about two guys holding on a tallis, uh they march into beis din, or a chicken lays an egg on Yom Tov. And you know, if you're a legal mind, you enjoy that because, you know, intellectually, it's it's logical and there's arguments. But if you're a spiritual person, you're going to have some trouble. You say, huh? Huh? How is this addressing my purpose in the world? Where's the spirituality? Where's the meaning here? Now, the truth is the truth is, in a mystical way that's not easy to explain, when you connect to any part of the Torah, you're actually connecting to God. And it actually does raise you spiritually. And that is 100% true, but it's not immediately apparent. It's not readily apparent because the content is not always going to be addressing what you might call global spiritual concerns. Right? So, the person comes to that Gemara shiur thinking they'll get answers to the mysteries of life. And instead, will be exposed to technicalities and all sorts of details that may or may not be interesting to him depending on his general interest, but certainly do not address spirituality. And yet, that's what Judaism is about. There's almost a reason for this, and the reason for this is we want someone to understand that the global spiritual feelings are good and noble and wonderful, but they have to be rooted in the concrete realities of day-to-day life. And we're not going to allow you to escape into global you know globalization or universal you know ideas of spirituality that are not rooted in the here and now. And therefore almost obsessively and maybe sometimes we go to the other extreme. I would admit that. Almost obsessively we're going to say, "Let's not talk about spirituality. Let's talk about the here and now. How do you deal with your neighbor? Right? What are the halachas about making noise after 11:00? Now very tangible things. Because spirituality has to be rooted in the rules of Kadish Barnea and not doing so may be the tragic lesson of Nadav and Avihu. Have a good Shabbos. Thank you.