"To be a teacher in the right sense is to be a learner.  I am not a teacher, only a fellow student."  (Soren Kierkegaard)

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A FEW PRE-SHABBAT WORDS FROM RABBI AARON

Grief and Consolation

Parashat Shmini contains the enigmatic tragedy of Nadav and Avihu dying a shocking public death in the roles as kohanim. 

Aaron's sons Nadab and Abihu took their censers, put fire in them and added incense; and they offered unauthorized fire before the LORD, contrary to his command. So fire came out from the presence of the LORD and consumed them, and they died before the LORD. Moses then said to Aaron, "This is what the LORD spoke of when he said: " 'Among those who approach me  I will show myself holy; in the sight of all the people I will be honored.' " Aaron remained silent.

Pictures and words
This short text has stirred up emotions and inspired commentaries throughout the ages. The two pages of art/text feature two approaches to the tragedy. Rav Kook (1865-1935, served as Chief Rabbi of Palestine during the British Mandate) proposed a mystical approach to understanding the "strange fire" offered by Nadav and Avihu. The black and white drawing by James Tissot (France, 1836-1902) captures a sense of innocence and helplessness, deepening the heartbreaking moment witnessed by Aaron, Moses, and all the nation.

In the second art/text, the Medieval Painting is surrounded by a tale of consolation told, in a lyrical text called Avot d'Rabbi Natan (probably written during the 8th or 9th Century). This story is not trying to explain "what happened and why." The focus is on grief. We hear the tumbling wordy condolence of Moses, a bereaved uncle. The bereaved father, Aaron - is silent. That silence cannot be contained by any amount of learned commentary. Even if we're told that Aaron's silence indicated his being consoled by his brother, the grief echoes through time. In the case of the story told in Avot d'Rabbi Natan, we are listening and watching as students attempt to console their beloved grieving teacher. Each student, despite his eloquence and sincerity, comes off as much-less-than-helpful. Among the well-meaning condolences is a reference to Aaron's silence. The last student [Eliezer ben Azariah] approaches his master obliquely, with a parable. Unlike his peers, he doesn't try to catalogue his teacher's pain. He speaks to the loss of his teacher's precious son. Additionally, his words are complimented by physical gestures of humility and vulnerability [sitting, having the attendant bring a pitcher].

Our teachers, critically assessing the sincere words of Moses, offer us some blunt advice: don't attempt to verbally console your fellow when his dead is lying before him. Comforting someone who is wrapped up in grief is a challenging and sensitive task. It's not about the perfect story or the right card or the sage teaching. Sometimes it's really about presence, about the mourner knowing that you are there, that you are listening, that your heart is open.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Aaron