The Book of Leviticus and the portion, Shemini, pose intriguing challenges. An underlying purpose in the Book of Leviticus is to promote ritual holiness in order to gain God’s blessing. Everything points to the efforts of the priests and the people to maintain a high level of order and cleanliness. Their reward is God’s blessing and not God’s curse. It sounds like a fairly simple equation for righteous living, but it is more complicated than it appears.
It’s in this portion that we read about Aaron’s sons, Nadab and Abihu. Sons of the high priest, one could assume that the boys knew their way around holy matters. But, Nadab and Abihu brought an “eish zarah,” an alien fire as an offering to God, and “fire came forth from the Lord and consumed them; thus they died at the instance of the Lord.” In at least two responses to this event, rabbis have upheld the record that the boys were drunk when they entered the Tent of Meeting with their offerings; therefore, their punishment fit the crime. They’ve also suggested that they brought an offering that was not commanded. Their offering was the result of their personal interpretation of God’s commands, which was an affront to Moses.
After the boys were consumed by fire, Moses says to Aaron, “This is what was meant when God said, ‘Through those near to Me, I show Myself holy, and gain glory before all the people.’” Then Aaron, their father, said, and Torah records, “Aaron was silent.” Aaron’s silence has astonished readers ever since. Perhaps it’s the finality of God’s decree. Perhaps it’s the utter silence of Aaron whose grief is not recorded in Torah. Perhaps it’s the finality we’ve all felt at times in our life when “we didn’t see it coming” or “we should have known better.”
This week, I can’t think of this Torah story without also thinking about the former governor of New York, Eliot Spitzer, or the Mayor of Detroit, Kwame Kilpatrick. They’re just two examples of people, mostly men, who have held the alien offering and faced the consuming fire of public embarrassment and scrutiny. The difference is that there wasn’t silence. Spitzer hesitated before accepting his inevitable resignation. To date, Kilpatrick refuses to see what everyone else has already seen.
The Torah story speaks of holiness under harsh conditions. Play by the rules and all is well; violate the rules and there is no second chance. At the level of communal work where public service is a responsibility, and not just a privilege, leaders are indeed held to a high standard. There are curses inherent in the job. Today, every move and every word is scrutinized in the press, on YouTube, and elsewhere. There is no privacy and there is little room for error. But, there are blessings inherent in the job, too. There is the enormous respect and authority that enables a good leader to make an enormous difference in the community, perhaps for many years to come. The challenge is in recognizing that as leaders they have to accept both the glory and the responsibility in order to enjoy the privilege of high office.
I’m only sorry they never had the opportunity to hear the story Rabbi Karff used to tell at High Holyday services every year. Generations grew up on it. It was “The Land of No Second Chances.” I have no doubt that boys and girls who heard Rabbi Karff’s story have drawn on its lesson. Saying I’m sorry is possible in Judaism; but, there comes a point when sorry isn’t enough or sorry should have come much sooner, so that now the blessing and the privilege are no longer available. Only the curse and the negative consequences remain. For Aaron, whose sons were killed, his role continued. No doubt, he held fast to the rules of his position and he maintained the stature of his office. The blessings came easily then not only for him but for all who touched by the work of his hands.
From my desk to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
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