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Shabbat Shalom! This week’s Torah portion is Parashat Shemini, which opens with a disturbing story of two sons of Aaron. Nadav and Avihu bring a “strange fire” into the Mishkan as an offering of God, despite the last 8 chapters of very details rules and explanations of what kind of sacrifices God expects now that the Mishkan is ready. As a result, God smites the brothers dead. Then abruptly the parasha shifts to discuss which animals are kosher. The Torah will return to the topic of Nadav and Avihu and how their family mourns them, or doesn’t actually, in this case. But for now, Moses is over it already, and continues on his lecturing to the Israelites. 

On Tuesday I was invited as a guest teacher to the middle school tefillah period at Gesher Jewish Day School, so I led a midrash-writing activity on the parasha. Arguably the most textually sound midrash of these tweens was one that suggested Nadav and Avihu were super annoying and so God spitefully declared all their favorite birds to be unkosher. Thus, as they still wanted to eat or sacrifice those particular, now unkosher, birds, they were smote. I liked how this one wove together the two parts of the parasha, which is not easy to do given the sharp shift and lack of segue.

 My favorite midrash, of a student who knew better than to share it aloud but whose paper I found left behind after the class, suggested that Santa Clause triggered a chimney while descending it (clearly this kid has one of those gas chimneys that can just be switched on without actually building a fire). So the “strange fire” of Nadav and Avihu was actually just the chimney fire burning up all the Christmas presents. Nadav and Avihu were not actually smote by God in this narrative, but rather died of a broken heart upon seeing they were not getting any presents. Very anachronistic and totally outside the normal rules of midrash writing, but bonus points for creativity. 

The vast majority of the midrashim to come out of that half hour simply posited that Nadav and Avihu were killed for bringing in an unkosher animal for the sacrifice. The Torah text itself says “Strange Fire” which would suggest some sort of incense offering rather than an actual animal, but it’s not totally outside the realm of possibility. A disturbing number of these midrashim suggested the unkosher animal in question was … Human. Apparently the current Gesher Middle School is obsessed with human sacrifice. I had heard this from a Bat Mitzvah student I’m tutoring who goes to Gesher, but I wasn’t fully prepared for the number of human sacrifice stories I heard on Tuesday. There is really nothing in this parasha or the commentaries on it to suggest Nadav and Avihu were preparing a human sacrifice, but it is compelling nonetheless. I am disturbed every year by their deaths, and unconvinced of the ancient rabbis’ reasonings for why they deserved it. But if indeed they were trying to sacrifice humans, I am certainly willing to concede that they needed to be stopped by any means necessary. 

Judaism is clear from the very beginning that human sacrifice is a no-go. It’s the main lesson from the disturbing story of the binding of Isaac. Isaac was NOT sacrificed. Abraham was stopped, and commanded to sacrifice a ram instead. Many rabbis and historians have suggested over the millennia that this is to teach that our budding monotheistic religion would never engage in human sacrifice as did some of the neighboring pagan cults in the ancient near east. Talmud Bavli Sanhedrin 74a discusses how one of the few reasons that may make it halakhically permissible to kill another person is if that person is out to kill another. This is called “din rodef” (the law of the pursuer) and the language of the Talmud actually suggests that the extrajudicial killer of a rodef (one who is pursuing, in this case, pursuing to commit murder) is “saving” the rodef from committing a grave sin. The Talmud of course argues extensively about how immediate and assured the pending murder must be, and whether it may be stopped any other way before accepting that extrajudicial killing is permissible, but the general sentiment is that it is better to kill a murderer than to let that murderer kill an innocent. This is not a discussion of capital punishment, to be clear, although that is also discussed elsewhere in Tractate Sanhedrin. Here we are talking only about a case where unjust killing is imminent and killing the potential killers may save the innocent victim as well as the soul of the rodef. 

I have mixed feelings about halakha din rodef and its practical applications in today’s world. However, God’s omniscience would allow for a certainty regarding Nadav and Avihu’s plans that we modern mortals could not possess. Thus, God’s need to strike them dead to prevent a clear and present danger of human sacrifice would be reasonable and justifiable. It soothes my discomfort with this week’s parasha to accept this seemingly ridiculous premise the Gesher middle schoolers presented. It was a great reminder of one of the most important lessons in life: to learn from everyone, especially your own students. For those who aren’t educators, it may feel even less intuitive, but I hope this serves as your reminder as well to learn from your children, niblings, and mentees. This Shabbat and always, may we deal with incomprehensive situations with humor and creativity, an open mind, and a willingness to learn from one another. Amen and Shabbat Shalom.