The Weekly Sedra – Shemini – The Elusive Pursuit of Spirituality

As a means of vanquishing his evil inclination, Reb Dovid of Lelov would frequently fast from Shabbos to Shabbos (throughout the daytime hours). During one such fast, while travelling, he found himself overcome by an incredible bout of thirst.

This victory left him exhilarated and brimming with joy. It felt good to be able to exert so much self-control and resist his bodily dictates; powerful as they may have been. Yet his sense of delight was short-lived. He quickly became suspect of these flattering thoughts.

Was this the workings of the G-dly spirit, or perhaps the evil inclination, who wished to temper his act of piety and self -sacrifice by causing him to lapse into haughtiness and vanity?

Just a few moments of consideration were enough for him to know the answer. It was indeed the handwork of the evil inclination and he wanted no part of it. In order to ensure that these feelings were permanently purged, he returned to the spring and drank some of the cool refreshing water, which at this point did not taste all that good after all.

”Spiritual” or “Spirituality” has got to be the most misused term in the human lexicon. It’s a word that could describe just about anything you want, from a spectacular sunset to a moving operatic rendition. It means as many different things to as many different people. I’ve even heard it associated with bodily functions that are not to be discussed.

Generally speaking, spirituality connotes some type of extraordinary pleasant experience or feeling. Yet, there can be nothing farther from the truth, at least if Judaism has anything to say about it. In fact, according to Judaism, spirituality is the complete opposite. Spirituality, according to Judaism refers to that which is neither physical, pleasurable, or in any way selfish.

True spirituality is about the selfless journey towards becoming attuned and united with Divine reality and instruction. According to this definition, the “self,” to whatever extent it gets itself mixed-in – and you can be certain that try it will – is a hindrance and contradiction to the process and objective. This axiom is underscored in this week’s Parsha – Shmini.

Our Parsha recounts the events of the eighth day of the inauguration of the Tabernacle. The festivities reached a high note as Aharon and his sons were anointed and initiated into their holy service. However, the celebratory atmosphere with which our Parsha opens is suddenly and tragically marred by the shocking death of Aharon’s two sons – Nadav and Avihu.

It is natural to be perplexed when reading this portion. The swift and stunning demise of Nadav and Avihu is after all one of the all-time Torah tragedies. Two rising stars cut down in their prime, at the height of one of history’s greatest celebrations. What did these sons of Aharon do that was so wrong? Why did they deserve to die?

The Torah attributes their tragic fall from grace to the fact that they took a foreign fire and incense and brought them into the Sanctuary before G-d: “And Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aharon, each took his censer, and put fire in them, and put incense on each, and brought before G-d a strange fire, which He had not commanded them. And a fire went out from before G-d and consumed them, and they died before G-d,” (Lev. 10:1-2).

While there is considerable discussion among the commentaries as to the exact nature of their transgression, it is clear that Nadav and Avihu had no ill intent. They did not mean to rebel against the Divine authority and will. The commentaries agree that they were high-minded, spiritual men who sought to get close to G-d. Their death penalty was warranted only in light of their immense spiritual stature.

As for their error? It seems to have involved the proverbial intrusion of “selfness.” According to the commentaries, they failed to consult with Moshe or Aharon regarding their incense offering. They were led to this by virtue of their own highly charged emotions and drive towards spiritual ecstasy.

Others maintain that their transgression included having drunk wine before their sacred service, perhaps even becoming intoxicated. The evidence for this lies in the juxtaposed warning against entering the Tabernacle after drinking intoxicating beverages (10:9).

In the final analysis, Nadav and Avihu, it appears, were guilty of having allowed their own emotions and selfness to seep into the holiest Divine endeavor at hand. They crossed the line between Divine will and self-ecstasy and intoxication. Fine as it may be, it is a line that demarks complete opposites –Divine vs. self.

I am reminded of the story of the Chassid who, appearing before his Rebbe, breaks out in bitter complaint: “Rebbe, I am unable to serve G-d the way I would like. My wife gives me grief, my kids give me grief, I am strapped for cash – how in the world, under such circumstances, is one able to serve his Maker?!”

“Who’s to say that your Maker wants you to serve Him the way ‘you like’?” replies the Rebbe. “Perhaps the Almighty prefers that you serve Him the way ‘He likes’!”

Indeed, at every turn – every moment and every experience – no matter the level we’re at, we are presented with a fresh test – a test between doing that which G-d wants, because G-d wants, and doing that which we want. . . Or for the more complex creatures; a test between doing that which G-d wants and that which we want G-d to want us to want.

What makes the test so real is the fact that man continuously gravitates towards that which he can relate and internalize. He will naturally seek to humanize every experience even that which is designed to elude any physical grasp and bounds.

The tendency for the “self” to seep into every endeavor – selfless as it is meant to be – is best expressed by the parody of two spiritually accomplished individuals who, moved by a powerful sense of worthlessness, found themselves rolling on the floor declaring their sense of worthlessness and nothingness. When, to their chagrin, an individual of far lesser spiritual status decided to join them, they looked at each other and declared in disgust: “Look who thinks he’s nobody!”

Selfishness, or selfness, inextricably comes at the cost of spiritual achievement. Being virtuous always entails sacrificing selfness and pleasure for the higher spiritual value.

The ultimate goal of having free will is, hence, the willingness to give it up. We must do what G-d wants us to do, not because we approve or enjoy it, but because is the only way to serve Him – the only way to achieve true “spirituality.”
This of course is much easier said than done, but the goal must always be to attain a level of servitude and subjugation that negates any possibility of dong a Mitzvah for any other reason than because it is the commandment of the Divine Commander.

The author welcomes your comments and input: Rabbi@chabadjacksonville.org