When Charles and I were driving down to Reb Zalman’s Shabbaton in Ashland, we stopped in Salem, Oregon. In Salem, we saw a stunningly beautiful and absolutely horrifying art exhibit.  The art consists entirely of dead insects, attractively arranged. Not little black and brown insects, like we usually see in urban Vancouver — but multicolored, iridescent, magnificent insects of all different sizes.

The artist travels around the world, sets up nighttime campsites with bright lights, lures these small beautiful animals into traps, kills them, arranges their dead bodies on a canvas, signs his name, sells the piece, and makes a profit.

He is not using the leftover parts of food animals. He is not even making fur coats that keep people warm. He is killing animals because – and here is what he actually says about it – it helps people see how beautiful they are. And it helps him tame his own fear of them. I am not making this up; it’s all in the artist’s statement.

The good news is: Whatever animal offerings meant in the time of the Mishkan, it wasn’t this. Animals were not killed to tame our fears of nature, to make a profit for ranchers and priests, or to create an aesthetically pleasing spectacle.

And still some ancient Israelites were opposed to them.

Nadav and Avihu, for example, sons of Aharon the cohen gadol.

Before the opening day of the Mishkan, Moshe gives very specific instructions about how Aharon should make the offerings. On opening day, Aharon follows the instructions. His four sons assist him by passing him bowls and animal parts. After the offerings, Aharon and Moshe bless the people. And then, Torah says, The Glory of YHVH appeared to all the people. Fire came forth from the Presence of YHVH and consumed the burnt offering.(Lev 9:23-24)

Then, Nadav and Avihu, who were not asked to make an offering, come forward. Torah says, Each took his fire-pan, put fire in it, and laid incense on it. They offered in the presence of YHVH a strange fire, about which they had not been instructed. Fire came forth from the Presence of YHVH and consumed them, and they died in the Presence of YHVH. (Lev 10:1-2)

What caused their deaths?

Our traditional commentators look for clues in the surrounding text.

Moshe himself calls Nadav and Avihu “intimates of God,” so many commentators believe they were not being punished. Rather, their passionate devotion led them to make a fatal mistake.

Some commentators say that they were not supposed to put incense directly on the fire.

Others say that they were not supposed to light a fire at all; they were supposed to wait for fire to come from God.

Others say that they were not supposed to add creatively to Moshe’s instructions. They had not been trained. They used their immature judgment, and they misjudged.

Still others point out that right after their deaths, God says to Aharon, “Drink no wine…when you enter the tent of meeting, that you may not die.” (Lev 10:8) So they say that Nadav and Avihu were so excited about celebrating the opening of the Mishkan that they had too much wine at lunch. They lost that edge of concentration you need when you are working around dangerous elements, like fire.

I have not yet read any commentators who suggest that Nadav and Avihu were making an intentional protest against the system of offerings.

But it seems clear to me, if you look at clues in the surrounding text, protesting is exactly what they were doing.

Nadav and Avihu bring forward incense, but no animals. Perhaps the incense mix was designed to fuel the fire. And without meat to consume, the fire flared in their direction. Or perhaps, in solidarity with the animals, Nadav and Avihu threw themselves on the flame.

After Nadav and Avihu die, Moshe reminds their father and brothers that yes, of course, they should eat grain offerings. But they should also eat meat offerings, because God has ruled that these offerings were given to them.

And still, they refuse to eat the meat from the day’s purification offering. Moshe becomes angry, but Aharon says, “Given all that happened today, do you really think God would like us to eat this?” Moshe hears this, and agrees it is okay.

He then immediately launches into a lecture reminding the Israelites that they are permitted to eat meat from animals with split hooves who chew their cud.

In Parshat Achrei Mot, the story continues. After the death of his sons, Aharon performs a ritual to release himself, his family, and the people from the shock of the events on the opening day of the Mishkan. Aharon brings forward two goats. Using some kind of lottery, he designates one “the goat of YHVH” and the other “the goat of Azazel.” He takes the “goat of YHVH” and burns it on the altar as a purification offering. Then he sends the “goat of Azazel” off into the wilderness.

Many commentators have puzzled over the meaning of the word “Azazel” – is it perhaps the name of a demon or a Canaanite God or a geographical location? But really, it is a simple compound word in Biblical Hebrew. It is the “Ez Azal” – “ez,” the goat; “azal” that went away. One goat is sacrificed, the other gets to walk away.

With this ritual, Aharon acknowledges the validity of the protest offered by his sons, even as he implements the system of offerings his brother taught him. One goat dies at the Mishkan, as Moshe believes it should; the other lives its wild life, as Nadav and Avihu believe it should. And everyone gets to see the ambivalence Aharon expresses towards the taking of so many animal lives.

Some commentators say that ritual sacrifice plays a positive educational role in Torah. It reminds people that you should not wantonly kill an animal – not for a feast, not for a court-imposed fine requiring you to feed the priests, not to offer a life in exchange for yours when you recognize you have committed a terrible sin.

In every case, you have to kill the animal in a specific way, and in a specific location. You must recognize the animal’s spirit, and thank the Source of Creation. You may not eat an animal carcass you found in the field – because you have not taken its life in a respectful way.

Torah is clear. You do not kill animals in order to tame a fear of nature; rather, you do it in a way that expresses awe and respect. You do not kill exotic animals in order to become more comfortable with them. You only kill animals in order to eat them. You only kill animals that live closely with humans – mostly the kinds of animals that traveled with us out of Egypt, whose lives are historically intertwined with our own spiritual and communal lives.

Art made of the bodies of insects would not be looked upon favorably.

Torah reminds us that we don’t even have to kill animals in order to eat. Many of us know that the Book of Bereisheet says that the first human beings were vegetarians. Fewer of us know that the Book of Daniel teaches that a vegetarian diet is healthier than a meat diet. But that is a story for another day.

Please honor Nadav and Avihu by developing your love of vegetarian food. May their act of protest not be forgotten.

Sources:

Insect Art: “Pheromone” by Christopher Marley.

Nadav and Avihu make a passionate mistake: Sifra.

N & A should not put incense on the fire: Nachmanides.

N & A should wait for God’s fire: Rashbam

N & A should not add to ritual: Gersonides, Abarbanel, Sforno, Hirsch.

Azazel = Ez Azal: Radak

Offerings teach meat-eating limits: Rav Kook

– Laura Duhan Kaplan, 2011

Image: www.pheromone.com