Parashat Sh'mi'nee

This week’s portion – Sh’mi’nee (literally, “the eighth,” as in “In the eighth day Moshe called Aaron) – continues last weeks’ main theme, which is the notion of proper worship through offerings.  But this week’s portion also introduces us to a profound notion in Judaism, and one of its fundamental tenets – that the degree of worship in Judaism must bear an exact resemblance to God’s instructions; not an iota less, and not an iota more.  

I. The Case Against “Too Much of a Good Thing”

Can Judaism tolerate “too much” worship?  Is there “too much of a good thing” in worshipping? These classic theological conundrums, which occupied generations of commentators of all religious stripes, receive a convincing answer in this week’s portion. But before I present these answers (“no, it can’t,” and “yes, there is,” respectively) I want to introduce a term borrowed from modern-day Hebrew: “Rosh Gadol” (“Large Head”).

The term was invented – like many others in today’s Israeli slang – in the army (the Israeli Defense Force, IDF).  What it means, essentially, is the taking of responsibilities above and beyond the command given by your officer. For example, when asked to clean his weapon, a private with “Large Head” will also make sure that his entire military gear is in order. Similarly, a drill sergeant with large head, when asked by his commander to check the unit’s gun cleanliness, would also go ahead and check their entire readiness for battle.  You get the drill. Conversely, a soldier with a “small head” would do exactly as told, or the minimum required to satisfy the order; he would never attempt to perform more than he was asked.

And thus we arrive at this week’s portion. Here, the sons of Aaron – Moshe’s brother and the first Chief Rabbi – are trying to demonstrate a “Large Head.” We first read, in great detail, about the actions taken by their father during his offering ritual (including details regarding the calf’s blood, its internal organs, and certain burned parts) (Leviticus 9:8-22)). We then learn that this offering was well received by both God and men (“And fire came out before God and consumed the burned offering that are on the altar … and the entire People has seen the sights, and they were delighted, and they fell upon their faces” Id., at 24). [For an extra brownie point, compare this well-received offering to the one presented by Abel, Cain’s brother, at the very beginning of our story (see Gen. 4:3-5).]

So now it is the sons’ turn to do the same.

But instead of repeating precisely their father’s set of precise actions, these sons have preferred – like many generations before and since – to try and outdo their parent. They were trying, in other words, to exercise “large head.”

 “Now the sons of Aaron Nadav and Avi’hu each took their pan, and they put fire in each, and they placed incense on it; and they have sacrificed it before God.” (Lev. 10:1)

So far so good. Or was it?  The text changes its tone here sharply, switching from a mere description of the brothers’ actions to a harsh criticism: “[They have offered to God] a foreign fire, which God has never ordered them to.” (Id.)  As we have seen, however, those who exercise “large head” do exactly that: They don’t only do exactly as they were told, but move a step further, “enlarging” their task – usually by demanding more of themselves and others.

But God’s response to such self-improving initiative is swift, and could not have been clearer: “And a fire came out before God, and it consumed them, and they have died before God.” (Lev. 10:2).  So goes one of the Five Book’s most famous stories, of how the sons of the Chief Priest – the two Priest-designated, the chosen sons – were executed for exercising a bit of “business initiative,” a limited amount of free will, or “Large Head.”

At first, this harsh punishment seems like a tough sell.  The two, after all, seem to have not committed a sin of any serious religious magnitude; they certainly did not build a new Golden Calf or called for the worship of other gods. In fact, they never turned away from the One God they were supposed to worship. They actually followed closely both the First, Second, and Third Commandments (“I am the Lord your God”; “You shall not make any statue or mask; and “You shall not take the Lord’s name in vein,” respectively).   And yet they were executed immediately upon committing their act.

But why?

The answer lies in the concept of blind and complete obedience – Na’asse Ve’Nishma (first we obey, then we listen [or question] the command).  This concept is fundamental to the understanding of the entire corpus of the Torah teachings.  As a rule, Judaism despises dissenters.  As we shall see in the next Book in the series, the first indication of a real opposition to Moshe was also met with a deadly faith (the story of Korach and his party).  And we have yet to recover from the punishment – arguably, disproportional – imposed following the Golden Calf event, in which more than 3,000 fellow Jews were killed by their own brethren (the Levites). 

To be sure, scholars of public policy could make the argument that the desert is not the best-suited venue for disagreement.  We can even agree that at least until they have settled in Israel, the Israelites had to unite around the leadership of one leader (Moshe), their well-recognized “slave of God.” 

But how can all this justify such a harsh punishment for an act of worship? Why was the extreme punishment of death required to make the point in this case?  My guess is that these initial attempts at a new form of worship were met with the ultimate punishment because they were considered not less dangerous than the Golden Calf itself. If one were to be allowed to deviate, at will, from the prescribed method of worshiping, we might have tomorrow 600,000 different ways of worshiping – an un-tolerable situation in the desert (and, arguably, in the Land of Israel as well). Further, short of capital punishment, Moshe, waling in the desert sun, had very few options of criminal sanction. No prison, detention center, or community services were available to him. The paying of fines was also inadequate for a desert tribe. Finally, let us not forget that the notion of Separation of Powers has not been introduced yet. Moshe, for all intents and purposes, was at once the legislature, Judge, and jury. It was in his best interest to curtail dissenters, and God backed him up to the fullest extent.  

II. Can the Case Hold Water Today?

Today, however, we are no longer walking in the desert. We do have a complex set of laws and social norms, which may adequately be used against social deviants. And there is absolutely no need – either from a security standpoint or otherwise – to unite under the banner of a single person, even if he or she were truly a Slave of God. Why, then, is the Jewish religion – and almost every other religion, for that matter – still so adamant about rejecting every attempt at new thinking, other ways of worship, or any notion of “Large Head,” for that matter?

Just in the past year we have heard of a woman Rabbi who had to relinquish her chosen title (“Rabba”) so it will not offend her colleagues male Rabbies. We also heard of Reform Jewish women who wanted to prey in front of the Israeli Kotel with Talit and Tefilin, but were not allowed. And most recently we heard of the attacks – physical and others – committed by Ultra Orthodox Jews against little girls, as young as eight, in Beit Shemesh near Jerusalem, for not wearing “modest enough” clothes.

But why? What is so wrong about new female voices in Judaism? What is so wrong about worshiping the same God, in similar devotion, but in different ways? What was so wrong about the writings of Baruch Shpinoza that led to his ex-communication (or “social death”) from his own Jewish community in the 17^th century?

In my mind, this type of monolithic thinking may present one of the larger challenges to Jewish faith today. The story of the Chief Priest’s sons, to the extent it was justified during its time, no longer serves a useful purpose. We must recognize, as a group of modern people, that there is more than one way to worship our God. We must respect the dignity and liberty of other Jews to do so, as long as they respect ours. We must let a thousand roses bloom – all for the sake of one God.  And if both temples were destroyed for nothing else but “hatred among brothers for no reason,” (Sin’at Chinam), then we should focus our efforts in an attempt to ensure that this will never happen again.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron