Bamidbar: The Terminal Bachelorhood of Nadav and Avihu

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Bamidbar: The Terminal Bachelorhood of Nadav and Avihu 

The census of the Leviim (Levites) begins with Aharon and his sons: 

These are the names of the sons of Aharon: the firstborn was Nadav, and Avihu, Elazar, and Itamar. These were the names of the sons of Aharon, the anointed Kohanim, whom he inaugurated to minister. Nadav and Avihu died before Hashem when they offered a strange fire before Hashem in the Wilderness of Sinai, and they had no children; Elazar and Itamar ministered during the lifetime of Aharon, their father. (Bamidbar 3:2-4). 

The question is: Why does the pasuk (verse) emphasize that Nadav and Avihu “had no children”? This information seems irrelevant in a census, the point of which is to count actual children rather than children-that-never-were. 

The pshat (straightforward) answer given by most commentators is that the first half of the pasuk preemptively explains the end of the pasuk: “Elazar and Itamar ministered during the lifetime of Aharon, their father.” If Nadav and Avihu had sons, these sons would have inherited the prestigious positions of adjunct Kohanim Gedolim [1] (high priests) from their fathers. Since they didn’t have sons, these positions passed on to their brothers, Elazar and Itamar. 

A different answer kind of answer is stated in the midrash: [2]

One who does not engage in [attempting to fulfill the mitzvah of] peru u’revu (“be fruitful and multiply”) is liable for death, as it is stated: “Nadav and Avihu died, and they did not have children” – [implying] that if they had children, they would not have died. 

This midrash is aggadic (non-legal) rather than halachic (legal), and is clearly not intended to be taken literally. According to halacha, one who does not engage in peru u’revu is not actually liable for death. Furthermore, Nadav and Avihu didn’t die because they neglected peru u’revu, but because they “offered before Hashem a strange fire that He had not commanded them” (Vayikra 10:2). This is clear from the fact that each and every time the deaths of Nadav and Avihu are mentioned in Tanach, this is reason given for their death. 

If so, the question is: What does this midrash mean when it says that if Nadav and Avihu had children, they wouldn’t have died? 

The Torah Temimah [3] offers the following explanation: 

This is to be understood in light of Taanis 4a, which says: “Yaakov Avinu didn’t die” because “his offspring are alive, and therefore, he is not considered to be dead,” and Bava Basra 116a which states: “Why does it say ‘lying down’ for David’s death but ‘death’ for Yoav? Because David left behind a son, like him, [whereas Yoav did not].” Here, too, the intent is that if [Nadav and Avihu] had sons, [these sons] would have served in their place … and if that had been the case, it wouldn’t have mentioned the deaths [of Nadav and Avihu because they would “live on” through their sons]. 

This explanation aims to connect the midrashic interpretation of our pasuk to the pshat explanation stated above. The “lives” of Nadav and Avihu were defined by their avodas Hashem (Divine service) in their position of adjunct Kohanim Gedolim. If they had sons, and their sons succeeded them in this role, then this “life” of theirs would not have ended. 

However, there is a harsher midrashic [4] take on the causal relationship between the childlessness of Nadav and Avihu and their fate: 

“and they had no children” – but if they did have children, they wouldn’t have died. Nadav and Avihu were aristocratic, [5] saying: “Our father is Kohen Gadol, our father’s brother is a king, our mother’s brother is a prince, and we are the two chiefs of the Kehunah (priesthood). Which woman is good enough for us?” and they withheld themselves and didn’t desire to marry any woman to fulfill peru u’revu. That sin caused them to die by fire. 

An even more condemnatory version of this midrash [6] elaborates on their sin: 

R’ Levi said: [Nadav and Avihu] were exceedingly aristocratic. They would say, “Which woman is good enough for us?” There were many lonely [7] women sitting and waiting for them, but they said: “Our father’s brother is a king, our father is a Kohen Gadol, our mother’s brother is a prince, and we are chiefs of the Kehunah. Which woman is good enough for us?”

Rebbi Menachma [8] said in the name of Rebbi Yehoshua bar Nechemiah: regarding [Nadav and Avihu] David said: “Fire consumed His young men, and His maidens had no marriage celebrations” (Tehilim 78:63). Why were “His young men consumed by fire”? Because “His maidens had no marriage celebrations.” 

Another [proof can be brought] from: “To Moshe He said, ‘Go up to Hashem, you and Aharon, Nadav and Avihu” (Shemos 24:1). This teaches that Moshe and Aharon would walk ahead, Nadav and Avihu would walk behind them, and all of Israel were behind them, and they (i.e. Nadav and Avihu) would say, “When will these two old men die, so that we can exert our authority over the community in their place?” 

These alternative midrashic accounts shed quite a different light on the notion that Nadav and Avihu died because “they had no children.” According to these midrashim, it wasn’t the transgression of abstaining from peru u’revu per se which made them liable. Rather, it was the aristocratic bearing which gave rise to this transgression and warranted this punishment. 

The problem is that these midrashim make Nadav and Avihu out to seem like they had some real serious problems! Are we really to believe that these sons of Aharon ha’Kohen took such petty pride in their own status and in the status of their family members? Did they really think that no woman was good enough for them, knowing full well that Moshe and Aharon each got married, despite their greatness? Most astounding of all, are we really supposed to believe that Nadav and Avihu eagerly awaited the deaths of their beloved father and their illustrious uncle so that they could seize power to lord over the community? It is quite difficult to accept this portrait of Nadav and Avihu at face value. Remember that these are the individuals whom Hashem referred to as, “My close ones” (Vayikra 10:3) [9], and who were second only to Moshe and Aharon in their proximity to the divine glory at Sinai (see Shemos 24:1,9). 

In my view, the answer is: no, Nadav and Avihu were not the pompous megalomaniacs depicted in these midrashim. Rather, I believe this is a case in which the midrashim employ the device of exaggeration in order to make a point, as Chazal [10] said: “The Torah spoke in an exaggerated language, the Prophets spoke in an exaggerated language, and the Sages spoke in an exaggerated language.” 

This stylistic device of magnifying the imperfections of tzadikim is frequently employed by the pesukim themselves in order to make it easier for us to learn from their flaws, which would otherwise be too subtle for us to appreciate. For example, the pesukim say: “Reuven went and slept with Bilhah, his father’s concubine” (Bereishis 35:22), “Samson went down to Timnath, and in Timnath he saw a woman of the daughters of the Philistines [and married her]” (Shoftim 14:1), “Shlomo built an alatar for Chemosh, the abomination of Moav, on the Mount facing Jerusalem, and for Molech, the abomination of the Children of Amon” (I Melachim 11:7). According to the traditional interpretations, none of these tzadikim committed the serious transgressions described in the pesukim. All of these narratives are exaggerations of transgressions or flaws which were much less severe, and which are blown out of proportion for rhetorical and didactic effect. And if the pesukim themselves are known to do that, then certainly the aggadic midrashim can be expected to follow suit. 

I believe that the authors of these midrashim would acknowledge that Nadav and Avihu died because they “offered before Hashem a strange fire that He had not commanded them,” as the pesukim explicitly state. Having acknowledged that, the authors of these midrashim are theorizing about the personal shortcoming which led to this severe transgression. Based on the information provided in the pesukim, the authors of these midrashim maintain that Nadav and Avihu had an underlying sense of aristocratic pride in their roles as adjunct Kohanim Gedolim, which gave them the unconscious feeling of superiority, and derived incidental gratification from the power they held. In other words, these were not open faults in their character. If they were, the Torah would have been more explicit in divulging such information which would be critical in order to understand why they died. It is quite possible that this deep-seated streak of aristocratic pride didn’t manifest itself outwardly at all. 

According to these midrashim, it was this underlying feeling of pride which led Nadav and Avihu to “make a halachic decision in the presence of Moshe, their teacher” [11] by offering the “strange fire” without being commanded. It was this unconscious aristocratic mentality that caused them to defer marriage and procreation on the pretext of not finding suitable wives. It was this idle musing about who might take over as the nation’s spiritual leaders after Moshe and Aharon died which arose in their imagination when they stood on the mountain and “saw the God of Israel” (Shemos 24:10) and which nearly prompted divine retribution, as it is stated: “against the great men of Israel He did not stretch out His hand” (Shemos 24:11). 

How are we to understand their punishment? According to the pshat, they died by fire because they brought a “strange fire,” midah kneged midah (measure for measure). But perhaps according to these midrashim one can see a different level of midah kneged midah which corresponded to their underlying flaw. They unconsciously sought to supplant Moshe and Aharon in order to claim a permanent place in the eternal pantheon of the Israelite hierarchy, and they believed they were “too good” to perpetuate the human race. As a punishment, their lives were prematurely cut short, and because of their abstention from peru u’revu, they left no offspring through whom they could “live forever” in the sense that Yaakov and David “live forever” through their progeny. 

There are two takeaway lessons for us: one in methodology and the other in human perfection. The lesson in methodology is that the authors of midrashim will expound on any textual clue, no matter how small, if there is some lesson that can be extrapolated from it, and when it looks like they’re making a mountain out of a molehill, they’re really just embellishing the presentation of their theory in order to make a subtle concept into a blatant part of the narrative. 

The lesson in human perfection is that a misplaced sense of pride is an insidious thing which can plague even the greatest of men, often on account of their genuine greatness. Like a small crack in a large dam, this pride can grow and spread imperceptibly until it’s too late, and the entire edifice comes crumbling down. 

[1] See Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 3:4, who writes that Nadav and Avihu were anomalous among Kohanim in that they functioned in the capacity of Kohen Gadol similar to their father, whereas in all subsequent generations there would only be one Kohen Gadol at a time. I’m calling this the position of “adjunct Kohen Gadol.” According to this explanation, Elazar and Itamar inherited this unique designation of Kohen Gadol upon the deaths of their brothers, Nadav and Avihu. 

[2] This midrash appears in a number of different texts with variations between them. Perhaps the most authentic version is the one that appears in Talmud Bavli: Yevamos 64a. I’ve chosen to use the version of that midrash as cited by the Torah Temimah, both because it is phrased in a more standalone manner, and because I subsequently reference the Torah Temimah’s commentary later. 

[3] Ha’Rav Baruch ha’Levi Epstein, Torah Temimah on Bamidbar 3:4 footnote 1 

[4] Midrash Aggadah (Buber), Sefer Bamidbar: Bamidbar 3 

[5] The Hebrew term here is שחוצים, which Jastrow translates as: aristocratic, proud, vainglorious, pompous. 

[6] Midrash Tanchuma (Warsaw) Sefer Vayikra: Acharei Mos 6 

[7] עגונות, which can’t be understood in the usual halachic sense here – unless I’m missing something. The term literally means “deserted,” and since we’re talking about unmarried women here, I’ve translated it as “lonely.” 

[8] Not a typo; just an unusual name: רבי מְנַחְמָה 

[9] According to Rashi, at least. 

[10] Talmud Bavli: Maseches Tamid 29a 

[11] Talmud Bavli: Maseches Eruvin 63a

Texting, Torah, and the Stamina for Immortality

Originally published in April 2012 (not counting the updated social media references). 

Texting, Torah, and the Stamina for Immortality

The Technological Generation Gap

I heard a shiur by Rabbi AZ about this generation's unprecedented preoccupation with and dependence on technology. Smartphones, Facebook, texting, Snapchat, Instagram, and other forms of online/electronic social networking - the average teenager considers these things to be an indispensable component of his or her very being. Many of these kids cannot conceive of a life in which they are not constantly connected to their social circle via the various modes of technology. To some, the thought of giving up their phone is actually terrifying. 

Members of the older generations have a difficult time understanding this phenomenon. To them, the notion of being so attached to their cell phone is laughable, pathetic, and altogether mystifying. "What do you mean you can't live without your phone?" "Do you really need to be texting everywhere you go?" "How much time do you spend on YouTube anyway?" "Don't you want to spend time with your friends in person instead of communicating with them through typing?" These expressions of astonishment reflect a drastic disconnect with the direction in which the world is moving. 

Rabbi AZ believes that this new wave of technology will change (and is already changing) the way our minds and psyches work. Just as such changes have occurred with every major technological advancement in history (e.g. the agricultural revolution, the invention of the printing press, the industrial revolution), so too, the human psyche will be changed with the rise of the "information age." Rabbi AZ maintains that the driving force behind this change is the fact that we carry our technology on our bodies and are connected 24/7 (or 24/6, for Jews). This constant connectedness to our social circles and to the world is largely responsible for the change in how we relate to others and how we relate to ourselves.

Changes in Man

Some might challenge Rabbi AZ's assertion by quoting the words of Shlomo ha'Melech in Koheles:

Whatever has been is what will be, and whatever has been done is what will be done. There is nothing new under the sun. Sometimes there is something of which one says: "Look, this is new!" - it has already existed in the ages before us. As there is no recollection of the former ones, so too, of the latter ones that are yet to be, there will be no recollection among those of a still later time (Koheles 1:9-11).

"How can you say that things are changing?" one might ask. "Are you saying that just because we have new technology, the way that humans operate will change?"

The answer is that Shlomo ha'Melech was talking about the permanent nature of things - not the particulars, which clearly do change. Adler provides a good example of this distinction in Desires Right & Wrong: the Ethics of Enough (1991):

[We] must distinguish between primary natural needs and those that are secondary and instrumental. The primary natural needs are those that are inherent in human nature and so are the same for all human beings everywhere and at all times. Having a capacity for knowledge, man has a natural need for it. As Aristotle said, "man by nature desires to know."

To acquire knowledge, human beings do not need schools as now constituted and operated. At other times and other other circumstances, the need for knowledge was served by parental instruction, indoctrination and discipline by the elders of the tribe, pedagogues and tutors, and so on. There are many different means to serve the acquisition of knowledge by the young. At different times and under different circumstances, each of these different means may be required to implement the acquisition of the real good needed.

These secondary and instrumental needs can be called "natural" only in the sense that they are means for implementing needs that are natural. They themselves are not natural in the sense of being inherent in human nature and so common to all human beings everywhere and at all times.

Keeping this distinction in mind helps us answer the question often asked: "Do not natural needs change from time to time and with variations in the surrounding circumstances?" The answer is both no and yes. No, primary natural needs never vary. Yes, the instrumental needs that we call "natural" because they are needed to implement our natural desires, do change.

In our present society, people think schools are needed; that was not always the case. In our urban society, people think that public transportation is needed to serve the need to earn a living by those who live at a distance from their place of work. That was not the case in tribal life or in rural agricultural communities. Health is a primary natural need, but it is only in an environment being polluted by the effects of advanced technology that we now need, secondarily and instrumentally, environmental protection for the care of our health.

When the word "need" is used with reference to whatever may be needed to implement our natural desires, we must remember that, unlike our primary natural needs, the secondary instrumental needs are variable. New needs come into existence; needs that once existed disappear. Such variation in needs violates the sense of the word "natural" when it is applied to primary needs. The secondary needs can be called "natural" only in the sense that the goods needed to serve to implement genuinely natural needs.

Our growing dependence on recent technology falls into the category of "secondary instrumental needs." At its core, the human psyche remains the same, but changes in our secondary instrumental needs can trigger changes in our psyche and the way we view the world.

The Tragedy of the Vampire

As I listened to Rabbi AZ's shiur, I was reminded of a passage in Anne Rice's book, Interview with the Vampire (1974), which I am currently rereading. 

SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! 

The protagonist of the book is Louis. In 1791 Louis is transformed against his will into a vampire by another vampire named Lestat. The two of them subsequently transform a five year old girl named Claudia into a vampire, whom Louis grows to regard as his beloved immortal daughter. Louis and Claudia eventually flee from Lestat and travel to France where they encounter a group of "Old World" vampires led by the 400-year-old Armand. A series of sinister events leads to the death of Claudia and all of the other "Old World" vampires except for Armand. Louis and Armand band together as the sole survivors, and begin to develop a vampiric companionship.

Up until this point, the nature of this companionship has not been defined. It is only towards the end, when Louis is contemplating leaving, that Armand tells him why he needs a companion:

[Armand:] "You fear that, the isolation of it, the burden, the scope of eternal life."

[Louis:] "Yes, that's true, but that's only a small part of it. The era, it doesn't mean much to me. She (Claudia) made it mean something. Other vampires must experience this and survive it, the passing of a hundred eras."

[Armand:] "But they don't survive it. The world would be choked with vampires if they survived it. How do you think I came to be the eldest here or anywhere?" he asked.

[Louis:] I thought about this. And then I ventured, "They die by violence?"

[Armand:] "No, almost never. It isn't necessary. How many vampires do you think have the stamina for immortality? They have the most dismal notions of immortality to begin with. For in becoming immortal they want all the forms of their life to be fixed as they are and incorruptible: carriages made in the same dependable fashion, clothing of the cut which suited their prime, men attired and speaking in the manner they have always understood and valued. When, in fact, all things change except the vampire himself; everything except the vampire is subject to constant corruption and distortion. Soon, with an inflexible mind, and often even with the most flexible mind, this immortality becomes a penitential sentence in a madhouse of figures and forms that are hopelessly unintelligible and without value. One evening a vampire rises and realizes what he has feared perhaps for decades, that he simply wants no more of life at any cost. That whatever style or fashion or shape of existence made immortality attractive to him has been swept off the face of the earth. And nothing remains to offer freedom from despair except the act of killing. And the vampire goes out to die. No one will find his remains. No one will know where he has gone. And often no one around him - should he still seek the company of other vampires - no one will know that he is in despair. He will have ceased long ago to speak of himself or of anything. He will vanish." 

That is why Armand needs Louis. Armand senses that he is unable to connect to the present generation and is in danger of remaining frozen in the world of the past, which is quickly fading.

"I must make contact with the age," he said to me calmly. "And I can do this through you ... not to learn things from you which I can see in a moment in an art gallery or read in an hour in the thickest books ... you are the spirit, you are the heart," he persisted.

The Torah's Stamina for Immortality

The dilemma that confronts the vampire, as expressed by Armand, closely parallels the dilemma that confronts the teachers of Torah in the face of the changes in technology and society. Rabbi AZ concluded his shiur by calling attention to the fact that the educational methods employed by the guardians of the Mesorah (Torah tradition) must be adapted to this rapidly changing world. If the methods used by teachers clash with the mentality of the present generation, we risk alienating the modern Jewish teenager. Rabbi AZ said:

The question is: How can the method of learning Torah - how can the process of learning the methodology and the Mesorah - how can that transform from [the old way] to the new way that people think, the new way that they take in knowledge ... The old ways are fixed, and the people running the institutions are not 20 years old. They're 50 years old. They don't live in this kind of world. So the old institutions are made for different people. 

New changes in educational media are happening every day. Public services such as Google and Wikipedia have revolutionized the manner in which people seek out knowledge and information. Devices like the Kindle and iPad are threatening to replace the book as the medium of learning. Institutions like TED and Khan Academy are changing the way people educate themselves.

We have seen our Mesorah undergo many changes throughout the millennia of the Torah's existence: 

• The transition from having "direct access to Hashem" via Moshe Rabbeinu in the Midbar, to the implementation of an independently standing Torah-system in Eretz Yisrael. 
• The transition from the age of Nevi'im to the post-prophetic era. 
• The transition from a centralized, authoritative Sanhedrin overseeing the formulation and transmission of Torah she'baal Peh, to the fragmented educational organizations in galus. 
• The transition from a purely oral Torah she'baal Peh, to a limud Torah she'baal Peh that is anchored in writing: first in the form of the Mishnah, then the Sifra, Sifrei, Tosefta, and Braisos, then the Talmuds, and so on. 
• The transition from the "Geonic monopoly" of the to post-Geonic authority. 
• The transition psak that naturally emanated from learning the primary sources of Torah she'baal Peh to psak rooted in the written works of the poskim. 

Although the Torah itself is perfect and unchanging, these changes in our circumstances have made it necessary to adapt. For example, if Rebbi Yehuda ha'Nasi had not radically altered the model of teaching Torah she'baal Peh, then it would have been utterly lost. His decision to alter the manner in which Torah was taught and learned does not imply any lack of perfection in the Torah itself.

The sum of the matter is that the Torah does have the stamina for immortality, but in order to tap into that stamina, the teachers of Torah in every generation must adapt to the continually shifting reality of the present age. The guardian of the Mesorah must embody the spirit of Torah, but must simultaneously "make contact with the age." The teacher who fails to do this runs the serious risk of stultifying the Torah in the eyes of the contemporary student and endangering the entire chain of the Mesorah.