“And it was on the EIghth Day” – Har HaBayit

"And it was on the eighth day”

(Leviticus 9:1)

Nisan 23, 5783/April 14, 2023

Today is Eight Days, which are One Week and One Day of the Omer

This week's Torah reading, Shemini, opens up on the eighth day. In the language of the Torah that is already telling us something. There is no eighth day in the natural world. The world was created in six days and on the seventh day G-d rested. This seven-day repeating cycle is what has defined our world ever since. Once the seventh day of rest concludes, we start anew with day one. There is no eighth day. Therefore, every time an eighth day does pop up, we understand it as being mei'al hateva, literally, "above nature," or, more simply, supernatural. And what are the eighth days that we are familiar with? The eighth day which is the day of brit milah - circumcision. Brit milah, which means, "covenant of the foreskin," is an additional, mei'al hateva step, which manipulates our natural body and fuses our being with our Creator. Shemini Atzeret, which is the Eighth Day Assembly which follows the seven days of Sukkot, likewise, is an above, or out of nature convocation. It follows the seven days of Sukkot, the festival of the autumn harvest, which is saturated in the natural world, including our leafy sukkot booths and the four species that we wave each day. But Shemini Atzeret, also known as Simchat Torah, is a celebration of our Torah, yet another mei'al hateva covenant with HaShem. And the festival of Shavuot, which celebrates our receiving of Torah at Sinai, begins upon the conclusion of the counting of seven full weeks (of seven days each), making it the first day of the eight week following the first day of Passover. Like Shemini Atzeret, Shavuot is also referred to as an atzeret, an additional assembly, and eighth day, as it were, following the seven days of Passover. Indeed, our seven days of Passover celebrate our physical liberation from Egypt. But our spiritual, mei'al hateva, liberation occurred only at Mount Sinai, with the receiving of Torah.

The eight day that parashat Shemini refers to is the eighth day that followed the seven days of the training of Aharon and his sons, the kohanim, that Moshe oversaw. Having rehearsed their service in the Tabernacle, the big day, the eighth day, has arrived. This eighth day happened to be the first day of the month of Nisan, known as the month of miracles (nissim), one year, exactly, after HaShem first commanded Israel to sanctify and set their watches to the appearance of the new moon.

The eighth day of parashat Shemini is the day of the inauguration of the Divine service in the Tabernacle. It is the crowning moment of creation, the day that fire would swoop down from heaven to lap up the very first offering upon the altar, and the day that HaShem's Divine Presence, known in Hebrew as His Shechinah, and referred to in Shemini as the "glory of HaShem," would enter the desert Tabernacle. This eighth day was the final and essential touch to creation. G-d's relationship with Israel has moved from the remote heights of Sinai to the very heart of the Israelite encampment. From now on, HaShem dwells amongst His children, within the world the He created.

The Torah's description of this historical, once in an eternity moment, is succinct, but made more dramatic by its understatement. Following the description of the opening day offerings, Torah tells us, "And Aharon lifted up his hands towards the people and blessed them. He then descended from preparing the sin offering, the burnt offering, and the peace offering. And Moshe and Aharon went into the Tent of Meeting. Then they came out and blessed the people, and the glory of HaShem appeared to all the people. And fire went forth from before HaShem and consumed the burnt offering and the fats upon the altar, and all the people saw, sang praises, and fell upon their faces." (Leviticus 9:22-24)

HaShem graciously shared the stage with Aharon and Moshe, and then, dramatically consumed the burnt offering and moved into His new earthly abode. Yet, there is no denying that HaShem's swift and subtle movements were witnessed by the entire nation of Israel, just as they had witnessed Hashem's nearness and heard His voice at Sinai. "All the people saw, sang praises, and fell upon their faces." Imagining an entire nation, man, woman and child, simultaneously throwing themselves upon the ground certainly informs us as to the drama of the moment, and as it were, it is the only description of HaShem's Presence that Torah provides. HaShem's nearness is reflected in our faces, in the prayers upon our lips and in the songs within our hearts. The Hebrew word, vayaronu, which we have translated as "sang praises," can just as equally suggest a primal, wordless shout of joy, of recognition, of reunion with HaShem.

But the Torah does not allow us to dwell, even for a moment, upon this sublime event. This most perfect day is immediately marred by tragedy: "And Aharon's sons, Nadav and Avihu, each took his pan, put fire in them, and placed incense upon it, and they brought before HaShem foreign fire, which He had not commanded them. And fire went forth from before HaShem and consumed them, and they died before HaShem." (ibid 10:1-2) What are we to make of this? How can it be that this most perfect, most sublime, most longed for and welcome day, so quickly, almost instantaneously, would go sour?

Without losing a beat, Moshe tells Aharon, "This is what HaShem spoke, when He said, 'I will be sanctified through those near to Me, and before all the people I will be glorified.'" (ibid 10:3) These obscure words of condolence are understood by our sages as signifying that Nadav and Avihu, despite their grievous error, no doubt born out of an eagerness to please HaShem, were, indeed, righteous and beloved by HaShem. Understandably swept up in the grandeur of the moment, the two brothers monetarily forgot their seven days of training and acted to introduce something new, and therefore, "strange," into the service of the Tabernacle. And Aharon, in response to Moshe's words, we are told, "was silent." (ibid 10:3) Aharon was comforted.

But again, what are we to make of this dramatic turn of events? Why couldn't the day have ended just as perfectly as it had begun? Why couldn't the Torah have given us more than just a brief moment to take in the experience of the appearance of G-d's glory before turning out attention to mankind's frailty?

The stark juxtaposition of the sublime next to the tragic, of dizzying spiritual heights alongside the depths of spiritual loss, is an occurring theme in Torah, (think golden calf following the Sinai revelation), just as it has been in Jewish history, (think, in reverse order, the establishment of the state of Israel upon the heels of the Holocaust), and just as it is in Jewish life here in the land of Israel, (think of Israel's somber annual Memorial Day for fallen soldiers followed immediately by Israel's joyful Yom Atzmaut Independence Day). And, to our great sorrow, this past week's joyful Passover holiday was marred by the horrific terrorist assassination of a mother and her two daughters, (may Hashem avenge their blood). Why? Why such tragedies? Why do righteous people suffer? To whom do we address these questions? To HaShem? To ourselves? Moshe's message to Aharon of G-d's love, even in tragedy, is perhaps the best answer we can hope for. Just as the appearance of HaShem's glory on the eighth day could only be described by Torah in human terms, ("the people saw, sang praises, and fell upon their faces"), perhaps we can only strive to arrive at a reason for tragedy by searching ourselves. So much of life is beyond our ability to grasp. And like Aharon, we can only gain comfort, if not understanding, through silence.

So what is parashat Shemini's takeaway? What are we to learn by the back to back joyful and tragic events of the eighth day? perhaps the lesson is as simple as it looks: when HaShem's Presence makes itself known, we rejoice; we sing; we shout; we throw ourselves upon the ground in deep gratitude. And when tragedy arrives, we look for answers, but ultimately we accept, in the silence of incomprehension, G-d's love and G-d's will.