Shemini – Torah And Jewish Thinking - The Strange Fire We Still Bring

Jewish Wisdom is counter-cultural. Torah is radical. In a world obsessed with choice and self-expression, Torah teaches that true greatness begins where the self ends.

This shiur explores a radical Jewish idea: you can’t transcend yourself by following yourself. Real freedom and real growth only begins when we stop serving our will.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:01

Two Jews are on a platform at a train station. One's in his twenties, one's probably in his forties. The one in his twenties goes over to the one in his forties. Says, Excuse me, do you have the time? There's no reply from the other man. He waits a few minutes. He goes back over, he says, Excuse me, I wonder if you can help me. Do you have the time, please? Again there's no response, there's no answer. A few minutes later, for a third time he goes over, and now he's frustrated. He says, Excuse me, I don't understand. I've asked you for the time. Why won't you tell me the time? The other guy lets out a huge sigh. He turns round, he says, Look, he says, if I tell you the time, we're going to start talking. He says, and if we start talking when we get onto the train, you'll probably come and sit next to me. He says, and then we'll get a bit friendly. He says, and maybe I'll invite you for a shabbas meal. He says, and then you're going to meet my daughter. And maybe you and my daughter will get on. And then you'll get engaged. And the guy in his twenty looks perplexed. He can't understand what's going on. And he looks in a quizzical way. What do you mean? The guy turns around and he says, Why would I want a son-in-law who can't afford a watch? In this week's Pasha, we have the deaths of Nadavanavihu. And the Mafarshim want to give lots of explanations as to what they did wrong. So there's an idea that they went into the Kodish Hakodashim, which of course only the Kohen Gadol can go in and Yom Kippur. There's another idea that they're intoxicated. There's another idea that their fault was to puskin in front of Moshe and Aaron they took a halachic decision without asking their teachers. What's interesting in the Midrash in Vayikra Rabbah says that the death of Nadavanavihu is mentioned four times in the Torah. And every single time they mention the sin. And the Midrash wants to say it's because this is the only sin they ever committed. In other words, we're talking about Sadiqin. We're talking about Gadolin, we're talking about some of the greatest Jews that ever lived. And perhaps the Mefarshin want to elaborate on what they did because when you read the Peshat, when you read what it actually says in the Torah, it seems fairly innocuous. It says they brought an Eshara, a strange fire that was not Siva, that was not commanded. That's it. But I want to explore this idea of the Peshat. That they bought something that was not commanded. And I want to suggest that that was the problem. And actually, it's not academic. The Torah speaks to us today, and we can learn so much about our own service of Hashem and our own Judaism by understanding what went wrong. There's a Gomorrah in Kadushin in 31 Ahmed Alif. Rav Yosef is blind. And Rav Yosef wants to celebrate with those that puskin that a blind person is not obligated in the mitzvot. Why? Because he intends to keep all the mitzvot, but he wants to do it at the highest level he can. And he believes that if he's not obligated, and then he keeps all of the mitzvot voluntarily, that will be on the highest level. Comes along Rabbi Khanina. Rabbi Khanina says it's better to observe a mitzvah that you're obligated in than to perform one that you're not obligated in. At that point, Rav Yosef wants to say he wants to celebrate with those that say the blind are obligated in the mitzvot. Because again, his intention is to keep them all. And so if it's best to keep them all when you're obligated, if that's the highest level, then he wants to be obligated in the mitzvot. What's interesting about this idea is that it's completely counter to Western culture. I would imagine that if we stopped a few people on the streets of London or New York or Paris, and you said to them, is it better to perform something that you're obligated to do, that you've been instructed to do, or better to perform something good that you do voluntarily that you haven't been instructed to do? I'm almost sure that everybody would say in the Western secular world, well, it's much better to do something that you've done voluntarily. You know, if you're obligated, it's not such a big deal, you fulfilled an obligation. But to do something of your own free will, of your own fruition, that you didn't have to do, all that's at a much higher level. And that's because, of course, in the West, the big values are choice of freedom or of autonomy. And so when you're obligated to do something, you have to do it, okay. But to do something when it's freedom, choice, autonomy, that's fantastic. It's interesting. If you go into a large supermarket in the USA, you'll be confronted with over 200 types of toothpaste. Over 200 types of shampoos. And do you know over 70 types of toilet paper? You say, do I really need 200 types of toothpaste? Do I really need over 70 choices of toilet paper? But of course, if choice equals freedom, then it's almost virtuous to have all these different categories, all these different types of toothpaste or shampoo or toilet paper. It's interesting because the word mitzvah is often translated as good deed. But that actually is not what a mitzvah is. I mean, it is a good deed, but what a mitzvah actually is, is a commandment. That's what it means. It's an obligation. And therefore, it's a very interesting idea. You know, we talk about the Judeo-Christian tradition in the Western world, but I think increasingly, as the Western world evolves, that's not really true. Because if you think about it, I'd say that the highest value in the West is choice, it's freedom, it's autonomy. The highest value in Torah is actually mitzvah, which is commandment, obligation, responsibility. Rav Solovechik talks about the difference between the aesthetic and the religious experience. And of course, on face value, they don't seem very different. So, of course, I can take a record of a band or musician that I really love, and I can put it on, and I can feel uplifted. I can feel, you could even say spiritually uplifted, can feel amazing. Similarly, I can go to Shaw on a hug, let's say, and with the kahila, with the community I'm with, we can do a rousing rendition of Halal. And again, I can feel uplifted, I can feel inspired, I can feel amazing. So on the two, the two seem quite similar on face value. And of course, there's nothing wrong with music and art and literature. You know, Hashem gave us these things, I mean, within the bounds of Torah, of course, you can enjoy those things. But there's a fundamental difference. Because if I take a book to read, let's say, it's a book that I want to read, that appeals to me, that I start to read, that I like, that moves me, that touches me, then the experience is all about me. That's what it is. But the religious experience is actually not about me, it goes beyond me. Trying to connect and go beyond myself to Hashem. It's a completely different idea. But the aesthetic experience, music, art, literature, although it can inspire, you can never transcend yourself, you can never go beyond yourself because those experiences are always about you. I like this band, I like this art, it moves me, it touches me, it speaks to me. The religious experience, when you're commanded, when it's a mitzvah by Hashem, then it's not about you. And you therefore can go beyond yourself. If you understand this, then you can start to understand the problem with Nadavanavu. You see, it was the day of the inauguration of the Mishkan, one of the greatest days in Jewish history. This had been planned for months. The planning of the Mishkan, the building of the Mishkan, the dedication of the Mishkan, the rebuilding and undoing of it for seven days. This was a build-up of all build-ups. And then it gets to the great day, and the Shahinah comes down to dwell amongst Klal Israel. It's the most amazing day, the most unbelievable day, and they were caught up in the euphoria and the inspiration and the enthusiasm, and they wanted to connect and be closer to Hashem. And it was all for the right reasons. But ultimately, they took incense and fire that they weren't commanded to take. And therefore, however well-intentioned it was, it could never be transcendental, it could never go beyond them. It was about them because they took the fire that they wanted to take, even though it was because they wanted to connect with Hashem. And therefore, it was all about them. They took Torah, they took a religious experience and they reduced it to the aesthetic experience. And Rav Solovechik himself says they wanted the experience for the experience. But that's aestheticism. When I listen to music, it's for the music to inspire me. When I read a book, it's for the book to inspire me. When I look at art, it's for the art to inspire me. It's for me, it's for the experience. That's what they wanted. That was the problem. It couldn't be transcendental, they couldn't transcend, they couldn't go beyond themselves. This actually is the whole problem with the self-help thing of the West. You see, if you go into a bookshop today, probably the biggest section, one of the biggest sections for sure, is the self-help section. Of course, if you go onto Amazon looking for books, you'll find the self-help section of all the self-help books enormous. But they're all about me. How I can improve, how I can be better, be a better version of me, do more with me. But actually, Hashem wired this world that the way you grow personally, the way you become a better version of you is to go beyond you. Rabbi Akiva says, love your neighbor as yourself is the fundamental principle of Torah. But love your neighbor as yourself actually means making room for other, making room for Hashem and making room for other people. Selfish people are limited by self. When you're not selfish, when you give to others, you grow existentially because you go beyond the self. And we have all sorts of constructs to be able to do that. Marriage is a construct where you give. The problem with marriage today is people look at it and go, What's the other person going to give me? What am I gonna get from this? Is it worth my while? But marriage is a construct of giving to the other. And when you give to the other, you become more than you could have been. And of course, if both spouses try to give as much as they can, you'll have a wonderful marriage. Family is a construct where you give. Community. Klalish El itself is this way that you can give, but in giving to others, you become bigger than you could ever be on your own. In giving to Hashem, you can be bigger than you ever could be on your own. Real growth comes from being other focused, not being me focused. It's a completely different way of thinking because that's how you transcend the limits of yourself. It's an amazing midrash in Shirashirim Rabbah that says that when the Avot did the mitzvot, it was like pleasant fragrance, it was vapor. But when we do the mitzvot today, it's like flowing oil. And it's a shocking midrash. Because what does it say? It says when Avraham Yitzhak and Yaakov, three of the greatest people that ever walked the earth, when they did mitzvot, it was pleasant, it was a nice fragrance. But it was like vapour, it just disappeared. When we do mitzvot, it's like flowing oil, it's substantial. But Avraham Yitzhak and Yakov are on a far greater level than we are. How can their mitzvot just be vapor and our mitzvot be so much more substantial? How does that work? But Avraham Yitzhak and Yaakov were on the most amazing level. They were so holy they could intuit themselves what the Torah wanted from them, and therefore they kept the mitzvot. But they weren't obligated to keep them. They kept them through their own fruition. And even though it was virtuous, it was a pleasant fragrance, it was an amazing thing. It was still from them. So they couldn't transcend beyond themselves. Have you ever thought why Avraham needed ten trials? Hashem gave Avraham ten tests. Why give him those tests? Because that was the way of him actualizing his potential, transcending, going beyond himself, because he couldn't do it through Torah. Because although he kept the Torah, Torah hadn't been given, it wasn't an obligation. When we keep Torah, it's like flowing oil because we're keeping an obligation. The Maharal explains and says we're limited by our physicality. We're physical beings in a physical world. But when we do a mitzvah, because it's been commanded by Hashem, we can transcend because we can connect to the metaphysical. Hashem is beyond space. Hashem is beyond time. But when we follow the mitzvot, we get to connect with Hashem. And therefore we get to go beyond space and beyond time. We get to transcend because of the obligation, because of the mitzvah. In other words, a mitzvah is a commandment, it's an obligation, but it's also a mechanism where we can connect with Hashem. Seifa Hakinachim, mitzvah 545, although I think it's in other places in the Sefer as well, explains that the actions we take change us. They change our hearts, they change who we are. But the thing is, if we only did actions that we intuited, that we thought of, it would be limited in the way it could change us. The thing about Mitzvot is they give us obligations we'd never come up with ourselves. None of us would take a l of an etrog to shake as we do on Sakot. None of us would have come up with the idea of putting a black box on our arm and a black box on our foreheads every weekday as we do with Tefili. And even something like Shabbat, where you could argue that we might have eventually come to understand to take a day of rest, would never have kept Shabbat in the way we do with all the categories of malachot that we don't do on Shabbas. In other words, these commandments, these mitzfot go beyond us because we would never intuitive themselves themselves. But because they go beyond us, we grow, we can transcend in a way we never otherwise would. It's the most amazing thing. Imagine there's a deaf person and the TV's blaring out, and you ask them to use the volume to turn it down, and the way the volume control is set, it's not obvious what's up and what's down. There's a very good chance they'll make it worse because they don't have an awareness. In other words, they could turn it up instead of turning it down, and they won't be able to hear that they've made it worse. But if you say to a deaf person, can you move it to the left because the left will turn it down? That they will then be able to do, and of course it will have the desired result. That's us. We don't have an awareness. I don't understand how taking a little of an etrog changes the spiritual world. I'm not even fully understanding how it changes me. I might feel different when I do it, but I don't fully understand how it changes me. I don't understand how putting a black box on my arm and my forehead every day, what it does in the spiritual world. Again, I might feel something when I put it on, but I don't fully understand. I don't fully understand why not mixing milk or meat or own-eating animals that chew the cud and have a split hoof, keeping kashrat fully changes me and what damage will be done to me if I didn't keep kosher. But if I follow the instructions of Hashem because I don't have full awareness, I can still make sure I get the right outcomes and it does the right things for me, the spiritual world, and everything else. What's interesting about all of this is people rage against it, people rage against Judaism about it, because they say, how can it be? How can you be prescribed that three times a day, Shachraq minch or marev, you go to Shul, to Davanta Hashem, and you use the fixed text and you think that that's authentic? How can it be authentic? How can it be that on the Khagim suddenly you're told to have simcha, to have joy? How can that be authentic? How can it be that at certain times of year you're meant to have some self-reflection? Let's say the Asseratya May Teshuva, the ten days of repentance between Rosh Hashaniya and Kippur, suddenly you're supposed to self-reflect. How can that be authentic? But actually, the other way it can't work at all. If I say I'm only gonna dove into Hashem, I'm only gonna pray when I feel inspired. So when I feel inspired, I'll pray with the words that I want to use. People go, ah, that's authentic now. But it also doesn't work. Because I decided to pray when I was inspired, using the words I wanted to use. It's all about me. It can't go beyond me. I can't transcend, I can't connect to Hashem. Whereas if I go to Shul and Shacharit, the morning service, and I take a siddha with the fixed press, will I always hit a bullseye? No. Have I been to Shul before and perhaps not been in the zone and not managed to connect in the way that I was hoping to connect with Hashem? Yes, it happens. But the mitzvot are a gateway. They're an opportunity to go beyond myself. They give me a framework, a siddha, the fixed time, the right prayers. They give me a framework to go beyond me. Putting on to filling gives me a framework to go beyond me. The Khagim, Kashrut, all of these mitzvot give me a framework that if I can do it with the right intentions and I can get it right, I can go beyond me and transcend and connect with Hashem and be bigger than myself. Nadava Navihua had all the right intentions. In the euphoria of the day, they wanted to connect with Hashem. And what's interesting is they didn't bring a sinful fire. It says an Aesara, a strange fire, but they did bring a personal fire, because Siva, it wasn't commanded. And a personal fire is the most dangerous fire of all. Because inadvertently, when you bring a personal fire, they're no longer serving Hashem, although that was their intention. Inadvertently, they're serving themselves. The highest value in the West is freedom to do whatever you want. The highest value in Judaism is freedom to be the best version that you can be. And for that we need obligations. For that we need commandments. For that we need mitzvot. So we have the opportunity to go beyond our physical selves, to connect with Hashem, to go beyond space and time, and to be bigger than we could ever be if it was only about us.

unknown 22:00

Okay.