In the story of the death of Aharon’s two sons, Nadav and Avihu, there is a moment that sometimes gets lost, probably the most important moment. It is the moment just before they act, the moment when, after all 7 days of practice and an eighth day of rituals and sacrifices, God’s Glory actually finally does appear to the people; the people perceive it, and the people sing out and fall on their faces, joyous and awed and totally satiated from this experience of the divine.
What happens next is “extra,” as my teenage students would say. Nadav and Avihu take pans and bring incense and fire “which they were not commanded to do.” There are many interpretations of what exactly Nadav and Avihu did wrong, and a lot of them seem true and sensible and have something to teach us. But at this moment it seems to me that the primary problem was simply that their action was “extra,” and sometimes extra actually detracts from the moment.
There is nothing more complete than an experience of divine presence. Nothing more could possibly be needed. The people as a whole understood this; they did not act; they re-acted --- they performed two actions that showed on the outside how they were taking in this incredible sight on this inside; they sang, expressing joy and praise (the Sefat Emet says it was the same song they sang at the Sea) and they fell on their faces, expressing awe and a sense of overwhelm and humility at the enormity of the experience.
Nadav and Avihu, by contrast, actually took away from the experience because they took a new action, as if what had just happened was not complete on its own. This is very important. We often don’t appreciate the fullness of our moments because we are too busy trying to improve on them, to add icing to the cake, to add more activities to our schedule, to add another dish to the menu, to add another phrase to the sentence. We think more is needed, that there is a need for “extra,” when actually the world, God, ourselves are all already enough. Let me say it again – the world, God, ourselves are all already enough.
We are so restless sometimes, worrying about adding and acting and more and new and outdoing the past generation and the last moment, but the truth is that this moment is enough, totally complete in itself. All that is asked of us is to acknowledge its magnificence, not to bring new fires, but simply to sing out as we feel the fullness of this moment, the fullness of God’s goodness filling us up. It is enough.
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Thanks. The blog post perfectly conveys its own sentiment, so that for a moment, at least, I was at peace. (Then I had to go and write a comment.) :)
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