What do you do in the aftermath of an unspeakable
catastrophe?
This is the question raised by this week’s Torah
portion. Its very name—and opening
words—Acharei Mot—raise the quandary,
as it means “after the death.” In this case, the death is that of Aaron’s
two sons Nadav and Avihu, cut down in the prime of their lives when they bring
an unusual offering before God and are, in turn, consumed by a fire that leaps
forth from the Ark of the Covenant. It
is one of the most tragic and inexplicable events in the Torah. The commentators make many efforts to explain
it, but none suffice; in the end, we are left with Aaron’s stunned silence and
raw grief.
But what follows in the aftermath that our parsha describes this week? Not—as one might expect—details of a funeral
or sitting shivah, though one can imagine those things happening. Instead, after briefly recalling Nadav and
Avihu’s deaths, the portion goes on to offer a meticulous description of what
Aaron and his remaining sons, the priests/cohanim,
did to minister to the Israelites on Yom Kippur.
Why is this? I
suspect that Torah is reminding us that while we must grieve our losses (and
our tradition gives us a very elaborate structure for doing just this), in the
end, the ultimate response to catastrophe is to return to life, to reaffirm our
commitment to the living by tending to the ordinary details that can provide a
surprising measure of both comfort and meaning.
Judaism could have died with
Nadav and Avihu: Aaron and his family might have easily refused to ever enter
the Tent of Meeting again and thereby destroyed the ritual at the community’s
core. But they didn’t. They wept and mourned—and then returned to
the Divine Service, to the sacred task of tending to the Jewish people and
their needs.
How fitting, then, that we read this portion this Shabbat,
just two days after Yom HaShoah, our Holocaust memorial day. We recall the immeasurable tragedy that
destroyed so many of our people just seventy years ago. We remember.
And then we get back to the business of healing our community through
the timeless Jewish deeds of learning Torah, of spiritual service, and of
performing acts of loving kindness. Next
week we will celebrate Yom HaAtzmaut—Israel Independence Day—and then read
portion Kedoshim, which means,
“holiness.” After the death—remembrance,
and then rebuilding our Jewish state, our Jewish souls, all the while striving
for holiness.
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