The Boys with the Golden Spoon

Nadav and Avihu knew what it meant to grow up with a golden spoon in their mouth.

In modern times, the two sons of Aaron would have been termed blue-eyed boys. Their father was a leader of Israel and just appointed high priest in the tabernacle. The two eldest sons were regarded as industrious, efficient, creative — the adjectives just go on. But they were also humble and feared the Almighty.

So, how did these two die at the height of their fame during the inauguration of the tabernacle?

Fire went forth from before G-d and consumed them, and they died before G-d. [Leviticus 10:2]

The commentators in our weekly Torah portion Shemini debate the sin of Nadav and Avihu that led to their death. They ask whether the sons of Aaron were good people; were they sincere in their divine service? What is clear is what the two young men did: They brought lit coals to the tabernacle’s altar when they should have waited for a fire from heaven.

Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, each took a [fire] pan, put fire in it, placed incense upon it, and brought before G-d a fire that was foreign, inasmuch as He had not commanded them [to do so.] [Leviticus 10:1]

If the Torah is clear of the sin of Nadav and Avihu what is there to debate? G-d told them what to do and they didn’t listen — and that was their sin. But that doesn’t jibe with what our sages assert that the two priests feared G-d.

To answer this, we need plenty of background. The day of death marked the formal launch of the tabernacle, the eighth day of operation. For seven days, Moses did everything: He brought the sacrifices, lit the candelabra, even assembled and disassembled G-d’s house. Everything went smoothly except that the shechinah, or divine presence, did not descend on the tabernacle. And all of Israel saw this and sank into a depression. They believed that G-d stayed away because of the sin of the Golden Calf. The Jews had not been forgiven.

Moses knew otherwise. He was not meant to continue his position. He had forfeited this and other opportunities in the desert of Midian, when Moses rejected G-d’s repeated request to lead Israel out of Egypt. Now, his job would be to conduct the test-run of the tabernacle. The miracles would take place during the tenure of his brother Aaron. He would be the high priest and ensure that the sins of Israel be erased by the Almighty.

But on the day of the inauguration, that didn’t happen. Aaron did all that Moses told him: He brought a calf as a sin-offering. The ram was sacrificed as an ascent-offering. Then came a bull as a peace-offering. He brought grain and burned it on the altar.

Still, no divine presence. Aaron then cried to Moses: “Look, what you have done to me. I did all that you said, and I now stand ashamed before the people.” Moses then entered the tabernacle with Aaron and both prayed for mercy. Finally, the divine presence descended.

On the sidelines were Nadav and Avihu. Their conclusion was completely logical. If our father and uncle couldn’t bring the divine presence, what chance do we have? Who will come to our rescue as the people jeer and hiss? And Nadav and Avihu prepared their pan of burning coals for the incense just in case G-d withheld His fire.

And that marked the end. Because for all their qualities and character, they lacked the one thing essential to leadership — faith in G-d. G-d had commanded that the priests wait until the divine fire descended and consumed the offering. And no argument could counter this. Might the arrival of G-d’s flame require prayer? Probably. But would He deny the Children of Israel what He had promised? No.

The Talmud says Nadav and Avihu were consumed by the divine fire. The blaze entered their nostrils and their innards were burned. On the outside, they were not singed, their robes remained white as snow. It was message from the Almighty: These two young priests were the elite, seemingly flawless. They were even greater than Moses and Aaron. But that was their outward appearance. Inside, the young men lacked the essential trait required by every Jew, particularly those in leadership. They did not have complete faith in G-d. Their golden spoon had failed them.

Moses said to Aaron, “This is what G-d spoke about when He said, ‘I will be sanctified through those nearest to Me, and in this way I will be honored before all the people.'” Aaron was silent. [Leviticus 10:3]

The eighth day is one of decision and clarity. A son is born to a Jewish mother, and she nurses and bathes him for seven days. On the eighth day, it’s time for circumcision, an offering to G-d for a life meant for devotion to divine service. When the Israelites left Egypt, they moved seven days until they reached the Red Sea. On the eighth day, Israel walked away, leaving a decimated Egyptian army for good. During the holiday of Tabernacles, the Jews celebrate for seven days with food, song and prayer. On the eighth day, G-d arrives for an intimate gathering with His people.

In our long history in the Exile, there comes an eighth day as well — when G-d foils the plans of the evildoers without and within and protects us completely. When the predictions of doom are no more than empty words from silly people. The eighth day is when we have more than fear of G-d, rather faith in the Almighty. And all the blue-eyed boys can’t change that.

On the eighth day, Moses summoned Aaron, Aaron’s sons, and the elders of Israel. [Leviticus 9:1]