Parashat Shemini: On the Balance of Passion and Devotion

In every close relationship, there is some balance between passion and devotion, between the spark of love and the daily acts of loyalty and caretaking. It is no different with God. There are the peak moments of connection and spirituality, the highs of Yom Kippur or of a particularly good moment of prayer or song -- these are indeed essential to keeping the flame alive. But there is also the daily devotion of simply being there, the myriad commandments one does even if one is not feeling so excited at that moment.

Nadav and Avihu seem to have gone to the extreme in the passion department. Every year at this parsha we try to understand why they were swallowed up in flames at the consecration of the Tabernacle, upon bringing to God an incense offering with a “strange fire” , “which they were not commanded to bring.” Many are the interpretations of what went wrong, and many also include tales of what went right – this was a sin of passion, done out of love for God and great joy at the consecration of the Tabernacle. These two sons of Aharon were on a spiritual high, say the rabbis, perhaps even a higher level than Moshe and Aharon, and it was precisely because of this spiritual high (some say brought on by alcohol, a symbol of the loss of control to passion) that they went forward and brought this offering.

But passion was only part of what was needed at this particular moment. The people standing around watching had already witnessed God’s Presence descend upon the Tabernacle, had fallen on their faces in ecstasy at the sight of the divine flame consuming the sacrifices. Nadav and Avihu went one step further in this direction of passion, and it turns out that one step further is a complete consumption by God of humanity. What was needed at that particular moment was not passion, but a sense of boundaries, and a sense of the security of “commandedness.” The people needed to know that to be close to God is not only about attaining spiritual highs (and perhaps for some not at all about that, at least not to the level that Nadav and Avihu were capable), but simply about being a loyal, devoted servant of God – keeping His commandments.

Personally, I find there is some relief in this. As much as we search after those spiritual highs, that sense of peak connection to God, and I still think we should, we cannot always attain them. And to feel empty and disappointed in those numerous moments when we are left down on the ground, decidedly uninspired, well – what then? But no –it is not all about highs. The bread and butter of one’s relationship with God, like one’s relationship with one’s spouse and children, is daily devotion, a sense of steadfastness – standing there through thick and thin, through the dry days and the high days and the low days, but still being there to make the lunches and say the brachot (blessings). It is a relief that sometimes all God wants of me is simply to show up, to be my small uninspired self in His presence, to show my devotion through emptiness and humility as well as through passion and intense emotion.

It’s what I think of as the “daily minyan attitude” toward religious practice. Many a morning have I wondered: What are we really accomplishing here – how can I/we say all these words with any sense of meaning? Is anyone really getting inspired/carried away here? But then I look around at the people who come day in, day out, early in the morning, many 3 times a day, and am inspired not by their passion, but simply by their steadfastness. What they are offering up to God is a different sacrifice than Nadav and Avihu’s burst of love, aflame with a wild fire. It is a daily humble expression of connection and loyalty.

Such an approach is also a tremendous relief to a mourner. I ofen worry: Did I think of my father today? Am I remembering him enough? Am I feeling enough sadness? Did I have that peak sense of overwhelming loss? Those feelings do come, and they are an important part of the grieving process. But saying Kaddish is not always that – often, it is simply an act of devotion. Today I did something to remember my father, to mark his loss, and to mark, at least for myself, my continuing devotion to him.