Nadav and Avihu, sons of Aaron the High Priest, offered a “strange fire” on the altar, an offering that had not been commanded by the Lord. As a consequence of this sin, a fire consumed them. This terrible tragedy occurred during the ceremonies dedicating the Mishkan (sanctuary).

What was the nature of the transgression of Nadav and Avihu? Why was their offering of a “strange fire” so serious as to merit the death penalty?

Events of recent weeks have reminded us of what we have always known: people’s judgment is often skewed. Politicians and media personalities pander to their constituencies without strict regard for truthfulness or justice. Terrorists are treated sympathetically, while those fighting terrorists are vilified. Groups decide to boycott a democratic nation, while giving aid and moral support to the vilest of tyrannies.

Why does moral judgment often seem to stray so far from the dictates of reason and truth?

After their glorious victory and rededication of the Temple, the Hasmoneans established the holiday of Hanukkah to be celebrated by Jews for all future generations. The festival of lights is an occasion for thanksgiving to God, celebration of Jewish pride, remembrance of the importance of religious freedom.

It wasn't too long, though, before this great spiritual and military victory lost its luster. The Hasmoneans--a priestly family--set themselves up as kings. Once they centralized so much power in themselves, corruption soon set in. Their "kings" became ruthless despots; the high priesthood became a political prize going to the highest bidder.

A story is told about a famous musician who was to perform a violin concert. The orchestra began the program, but just as the musician put his bow to the violin one of the four strings snapped with a loud pop. The audience gasped. The conductor stopped the orchestra.

The violinist immediately signaled the conductor and orchestra to continue with the program. He played the entire concert with a violin of three strings…and he played masterfully. He was able to improvise and compensate so that the missing string was not noticed. At the conclusion of the performance, the audience gave an enthusiastic standing ovation. Everyone was amazed.

The Torah indicates that the Holy Ark of the Mishkan was covered by Keruvim, angelic figures. “And the Keruvim spread out their wings on high, screening the ark-cover with their wings, with their faces one to another; toward the ark-cover were the faces of the keruvim” (Shemot 37:9).

In describing Solomon’s Temple (Chronicles II 3:13) the Bible reports that the countenances of the Keruvim “faced the house” i.e. the Temple. This seems to indicate that the Keruvim’s faces were not looking at each other.

When I was a teenager growing up in Seattle, our family was affiliated with Congregation Ezra Bessaroth. Our rabbi was Rabbi William Greenberg, of blessed memory.

I still recall vividly a conversation/confrontation I had with Rabbi Greenberg. He taught me a lesson which I’ve never forgotten.

One Shabbat morning, a member of our congregation came to services. Rabbi Greenberg gave him a big smile. The gentleman was given the honor of being called to the Torah, and Rabbi Greenberg welcomed him warmly during his sermon.

(This week’s Angel for Shabbat column is excerpted from my book, “Rhythms of Jewish Living,” chapter two.)

Jewish religious experience is intimately linked to the rhythms of the natural world. The rhythms of the sun and moon govern our times of prayer, our religious festivals, our meditation of the universe. The phenomena of nature evoke within us responses to the greatness of God, the Creator, and we recite blessings on witnessing the powers of nature.

Centuries of Westernization and urbanization have profoundly affected Jewish religious sensitivity. There has been a steady and increasing alienation between Jewish religious observance and the natural world, with a parallel diminution in sensing the awe of God as Creator of the natural universe.

An old Turkish proverb states: “My heart wants neither coffee nor coffeehouse; my heart wants a friend, coffee is an excuse.” We all seek a social texture for our lives…friends, community, a sense of belonging and continuity.

We drink coffee together not because we want coffee but because we want sociability. We want a friend with whom to talk. We want a peaceful respite from a noisy world.

Shalom uvrakha. I hope the academic year is going well for you.

Here are a few items of interest to members of the University Network of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals.

CAMPUS FELLOWS PROGRAM

The Institute sponsors Campus Fellows on campuses throughout the United States and Canada. Campus Fellows receive a modest stipend to arrange several programs per semester. The goal is to create an environment for serious study, open and honest discussion in the spirit of an intellectually vibrant, compassionate and inclusive Orthodox Judaism.

God instructs Abram to set out for a new land. God states that He will bless Abram, make him into a great nation, increase his fame, support his allies and curse his enemies. Abram will be a blessing to the nations of the world.

Abram complies with God’s commandment: “So Abram went as the Lord had spoken unto him; and Lot went with him…”(Bereishith 12:4).

Lot? How did Lot get into this scene? God had spoken with Abram and hadn’t said a word to Lot about going to a new land!

The very next verse (12:5) reports: “And Abram took Sarai his wife and Lot his brother’s son…and they went forth to go into the land of Canaan.” But didn’t the previous verse already inform us that Lot was going with Abram? Why is Lot
mentioned again?

Let us try to reconstruct the story.