Two reactions, two varied responses to the same occurrence. The Kohanim were not to interrupt the joy of their service – despite the tragic passing of two of their own. On the other hand, Klal Yisrael must mourn the deaths of two saintly Kohanim. The people must mourn; the Kohanim, however, must continue their joyful service. Two opposites – how is it possible? If it is a joyful occasion, be joyful. If it is a sad time, be sad. How do we reconcile two contradictory emotional responses to the same occurrence?
Horav Gamliel Rabinowitz, Shlita, understands that there are vantage points from which we establish our perspective on what happened to Nadav and Avihu. One point is clear: the action taken against these two righteous sons of Aharon was not the result of Middas HaDin, the Attribute of Strict Justice; rather, it was a manifestation of Kiddush Hashem, Sanctifying Hashem’s Name. Thus, it was absolutely necessary that the Kohanim not halt their avodah, service – at all. Otherwise, it would be viewed as a desecration of Hashem’s Name. The service of the Kohanim transcends everything. As agents selected to sanctify Hashem’s Name, they must remain b’simchah, joyful.
Although the people experienced the joyful inauguration of the Mishkan, they were still spectators (not agents) to a tragedy which took the lives of the young giants of Torah who perished. They needed to respect this moment with aveilus, mourning, the sreifah asher saraf Hashem, “conflagration that Hashem ignited.” Thus, we see that, concerning one experience, there can be two opposing views – and they are both proper and correct. The difference is the perspective based upon the vantage point.
Rav Gamliel notes that this phenomenon occurs in a number of instances. On Tishah B’Av, our national day of mourning, we do not recite the Tachanun prayer, since the day is referred to as a mo’ed, a term reserved for Festivals. Our Sages cite the Perek, chapter, in Tehillim 79, Mizmor l’Asaf, A Song for Asaf, a chapter that addresses the destruction of the Temple and the ensuing galus, exile. Why is it referred to as mizmor, song? It should be kinah, a lamentation. True, explain Chazal, it does depict destruction, but, concomitantly, we are happy that Hashem released His wrath primarily on eitzim v’avanim, wood and mortar. We were dispersed; a multitude was brutally killed – but Klal Yisrael as a nation survives. Amid the celebration of Pesach night, commemorating our release from bondage, we eat an egg, a food often eaten following a funeral. One reason for this anomaly: Pesach Seder always coincides with the night of the week (that year) of Tishah B’Av. Even when we celebrate, we should not lose sight of our tragic past – or what could occur (by G-d’s decree) tomorrow.
The avodah, manner of service, of a Jew is to follow Hashem’s will, to abrogate himself to the Divine mandate and live in accordance with that which Hashem asks of us. When we live in such a manner, giving ourselves over to His care and instruction at all times, then there are no ambiguities, no questions, no challenges. It is the will of Hashem.
A similar idea emanates from a much earlier commentator. The Rashbam (in his commentary to the death of Nadav and Avihu 10:3) writes: “As soon as Nadav and Avihu died, Aharon was prepared to mourn them. Moshe Rabbeinu immediately instructed him: ‘Do not mourn; do not weep; do not interrupt the Divine service.’ Hashem has said, Bikrovai Ekadeish, ‘Through My close ones I will be sanctified.’ The Kohanim will (be the medium to) sanctify Me among the People, when they see that, despite the tragedy, the service to Hashem continues unabated, for it transcends all. This is giving glory to Hashem – when the people see that Aharon continues his service (despite having every reason to be overwhelmed with grief).”
In his hesped, eulogy, on the occasion of the Sheloshim, thirty day mourning period, for Horav Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler, zl, Horav Eliyahu Lopian, zl, related that, earlier, Rav Dessler’s Rebbetzin had passed away on a Shabbos. Rav Elya came to be menachem, comfort him, in his grief. Despite the cloak of sadness that enveloped Rav Dessler’s home, the Mashgiach (of Ponevez) seemed to be acting in his usual spiritually-elevated manner as per the holy Shabbos. Rav Dessler cited the Rashbam (mentioned above) to explain why, despite being personally absorbed in mourning over the passing of his life’s companion, in addition to the fact that she was the daughter of his illustrious rebbe and life’s mentor, he understood that Shabbos is Shabbos, and serving Hashem supersedes all.
Rav Elya wondered how is it possible to serve Hashem with joy (as evidently Aharon did) while he was overwhelmed by grief. He explained that, when one properly fulfills the mitzvah of ahavas Hashem, loving the Almighty, this love transcends all forms of opposing emotion.
Rosh Hashanah 1930, six weeks following the terrible slaughter which occurred in Yeshivas Chevron on August 18, 1929, the survivors of the Chevron massacre gathered together with their families to daven in the general vaad, meeting hall, in Yerushalayim.
Those survivors – who had seen friends, family and students slaughtered before their eyes – were themselves physically and emotionally scarred. Their idyllic Torah life had been shattered. The atmosphere in the hall that night was heavy and emotion filled. A pall of pain and anguish permeated the room. Feelings of dejection and despair had overwhelmed many. The venerable Mashgiach, Horav Yehudah Leib Chasman, zl, stood up and went over to an unmarried student, Aryeh Leib Shikovitzky, and asked him to lead the services.
Aryeh Leib was known for his sweet tenor voice and deep emotion in song. Nonetheless, he was stunned by the Mashgiach’s request. “Rebbe,” he began, “I am not married, nor I do I have a beard” (preferable requirements of a chazzan for the High Holy Days). The Mashgiach repeated his request, “I want you to lead the services.”
Aryeh Leib stepped up to lead the davening. With his sweet, melodious voice, he began chanting the preparatory Rosh Hashanah tune prior to Barchu. The first bracha (Maariv aravim) was completed, and now the assembly began to recite the tefillah of Ahavas olam. The chazzan began the phrase, V’ahavascha al tasir mimenu l’olamim, “And may You never remove Your love from us.” Tears choked his throat as he began to quietly weep. Again, Aryeh Leib repeated the words, this time accompanied by a wail. Tears streamed down his face as he repeated the phrase over and over, each time with greater pronouncement and emotion. He was intimating to Hashem: “Everything that happened to us in the recent violence, You brought upon us – with love!”
Like a burst dam, all of the accumulated pain and anguish of those assembled burst, as they all raised their voices and wept, wailing along with the Chazzan. V’ahavascha al tasir mimenu l’olamim. “We know that You love us. Please, please never remove that love from us – forever!” They had just performed Tziduk HaDin, Justified the Heavenly judgment, that had been meted out six weeks earlier. It was an expression of love.
The tefillah continued, emotion laden and tear-filled. After the conclusion of the services, the Mashgiach went over to Aryeh Leib and said, Ot dos hab ich gemeint. “That is what I had in mind!” Concise and incisive.
Supposedly, it was that Tefillas Maariv that sparked the turn-around of the yeshivah, as it began to rebuild.
