This Dvar Torah was given at Temple Beth Israel, Waltham, MA, on March 26, 2022. It was delivered orally, as strongly emoted sermon. It is best read aloud with much feeling.
Our torah portion this Shabbat is Shemini, Leviticus Chapter 9-11. Chapter 11 goes into great detail on kosher and non-kosher animals. It is helpful for understanding the background for Jewish kashrut, but will not detain us today. Instead, I am focusing on chapters 9 and 10, on the enigmatic and mysterious story of Nadab and Abihu, who offer strange fire – Eish Zarah – on the alter, and are devoured by holy flame. Last week we looked at an eternal fire, this week we look at a strange fire. I will have reference to the teaching Rabbi David brought us by Noach Dzmura on The Eternal Flame [“HaNer Tamid, dos Pintele Yid v’ha Zohar Muzar: The Eternal Flame, the Jewish Spark and the Flaming Queer” in Torah Queeries], as well as to a commentary by Reuven Ben Amitai called “Eish Zarah.” Dzmura is concerned with compassion and caregiving in the doorways (e.g., death, conversion) of our Jewish communities, especially with respect to gender differences. Ben Amitai self describes as a reluctant mystic, rabbinical student, and trans southern ex-pat, whose interests include Trans theology, holy heretics, Queer (ing) Jew, and strange fires. Both are trans and bring a special knowledge of, and deep compassion for, lives lived outside the gateways of normative society. For further discussion of living inside and outside the gateways, I invite you to read two books: Trans-Forming Proclamation: A Transgender Theology of Daring Existence by Liam Hooper and The Soul of the Stranger: Reading God and Torah from a Transgender Perspective by Joy Ladin.
I am drawn to this story of strange fire because I, too, am strange, a person whose thought patterns, family circumstances, cultural upbringing, and life history are not in concert with most of the people I know, and never have been. I was over 55 before I began to lean into my queer and Jewish soul, and to nudge my way into more compatible circles.
Now: the text. In Chapter 9 of Leviticus, Moses assembles Aaron and his sons, along with the elders, to command them regarding the sacrifices to be offered by both the priests and the Israelites. The instructions encompass the whole congregation.
In verse 9:7, Moses directs Aaron to make atonement for himself and for all the people. This will involve blood, animal parts, death and fire; meal offerings, sin offerings, oxen, rams, and goats. It is a major celebration marking the beginning of the priestly lineage. At the end of the offerings, 9:22, Aaron lifts up his arms and gives a blessing, which according to Rashi is the Priestly Benediction. In 9:23, Moses and Aaron go in and out of the Tent of the Meeting and bless the people together, and the divine appears to all. At the conclusion of this very big and very grand public event, fire issues forth from the presence of the divine and consumes the sacrifices. When the people see this, they give a great shout of joy and fall on their faces. I mean, how would you feel in the presence of a holy roaring fire?
Following, in Verse 10:1-3 (my adapted translation).
Aaron’s sons Nadab and Abihu each took his fire pan, put fire in it, and laid incense on it; and they offered before HaShem eish zarah, which [the divine] had not commanded them. And there came forth fire from the presence of HaShem, and devoured them. And they died in front of HaShem. Then Moses said to Aaron: This is what HaSham spoke, saying “Through those who are near to me, I will be sanctified, and in the presence of all the people I will be glorified.” And Aaron remained stock still (va’yadom Aharon).”
I call your attention to the Hebrew phrases eish Zarah and va’yadom Aharon. First va’yadom Aharon. This is generally translated as Aaron was silent, or kept his peace. But it actually means that Aaron stood stock still, transfixed, not moving, his whole body reacting. In Joshua 10:12-13, Joshua speaks to HaShem to ask that the Sun stand still upon Gibeon (shemesh b’givion dom) and the sun stood stock still (vayidom hashemesh). For the sun to stand still is a quite remarkable phenomena and we should think of Aaron as if he were the Sun stopped in its tracks. Another interpretation. In Amos 5:13 we find this line: “Therefore the prudent keep silent (yidam) in such a time; for it is an evil time.” So we might say Aaron is rooted to the ground in the face of evil. Whether that evil is the action of his sons or their death or something else, is a matter for debate.
Now: eish zarah. I thank Ben Amitai for drawing my attention to the fact that the phrase eish zarah, strange fire, appears in the Hebrew Bible only in conjunction with Nadab and Abihu. The root suggests stranger. The noun form, zar, is sometimes translated as lay person or outsider (see Lev 22.13). In and of itself, therefore, that fire is not offensive. It is just misplaced, not in it’s rightful home, an outsider, a stranger, not invited in. Do you see where I am going? This is me, often, in the past, and still today. Is it you?
Why did Aaron’s sons initiate this strange fire? The previous priestly activities, in Ch 9, had been expressly commanded by HaShem or Moses. This strange fire was “not commanded them.” They did it on their own. Were they ignorant? Were they overeager to do their priestly duties, rushing ahead of instructions? Were they willfully flouting authority? When they saw how the people joyfully greeted and bowed down in front of the great holy fire of HaShem – did they imagine it would be liberating, holy, mystical, to draw down that fire upon themselves? This last intrigues me and Ben Amitai brings us a rabbinic teaching on the matter.
“According to Sifra Shemini Mekhita deMiluim 99:5:4, Nadab and Abihu took their offering in joy, for when they saw the new fire come from g-d in the immediate proceeding verse – “A fire came from before HaShem … and all the people saw, rejoiced aloud, and fell upon their faces” – they went to add one act of love to another act of love.”
The question of what drove Nadab and Abihu is unsolvable, but would be well worth our time to consider and argue. And all the more so: was the immolation a punishment or a reward?
What if it was a punishment? Recall the haftarah for Shemini, at 2 Samuel 6:6 where, in Ben Amitai’s words:
“Uzzah is killed for the simple act of trying to prevent the Ark from falling onto the ground, an act of devotion and love. However, despite the love and care intent within the act, that brush against the Ark brings swift retribution from on high… This is a terrifying thought, that even our best intentions and our most personal offerings could result in such cruel retribution.”
Now me speaking again: In these harsh passages, in the story of Nadab and Abihu, and of Uzzah, we have a lot of room for struggle, for questioning, for finding meaning, for finding our own ways. A lot of room for our singular and out of the norm experiences to provide tools to unpack meaning.
I would like to close with the end of Ben Amitai’s commentary. When you listen to this, please hear my voice as well, for I while I am not identical to Ben Amitai, I am also on this path that many may judge, or consider not sacred. And also when you listen to this, raise your eyes or your minds to that small bulb burning in front of the ark, that small ner tamid that, as we learned from Noach Dzmura last week, stands in for all the holy and eternal fires and lamps from Exodus to the Maccabees. It is a small and weak bulb, but carries deep symbolism if we really receive it and if, as Dzmura adjures us, we keep this flame well-tended. Now, Ben Amitai takes us out:
“I identify with Nadab and Abihu and their unidentified offering, this strange fire that no one knew. I identify with these two who out of ecstatic joy or confusion or chutzpah or all of them together offered something new to HaShem. I am a trans Jew, a queer Jew, a convert. So much of what I have to offer is somewhat new, is often unsure, is always strange.
I do this joyfully, full in the knowledge of possible death, full in the knowledge that some of my fires are “against” traditional Judaism and “traditional” Abrahamic morality. I do this aware that my Jewish life is – by many – not considered to be sacred. I do this mindful that my path may even be seen as not just un-sacred, but as innately unholy. There are some who may wish me consumed by an angry fire and others who judge my motives to be unrighteous and impure.
And yet, here I still stand – a Jew. These strange fires are the fires that burn within me. I will place my incense upon it and offer up what I have.”
Shabbat Shalom
Banner: Nadab and Abihu offer unholy fire and die (coloured woodcut) – German School, (15th century) in Paris, Mus.des Arts Decoratifs
Note the MIStranlsation. Zarah is strange, but NOT unholy.