(א) וַיִּקְח֣וּ בְנֵֽי־אַ֠הֲרֹן נָדָ֨ב וַאֲבִיה֜וּא אִ֣ישׁ מַחְתָּת֗וֹ וַיִּתְּנ֤וּ בָהֵן֙ אֵ֔שׁ וַיָּשִׂ֥ימוּ עָלֶ֖יהָ קְטֹ֑רֶת וַיַּקְרִ֜בוּ לִפְנֵ֤י יְהוָה֙ אֵ֣שׁ זָרָ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֧ר לֹ֦א צִוָּ֖ה אֹתָֽם׃ (ב) וַתֵּ֥צֵא אֵ֛שׁ מִלִּפְנֵ֥י יְהוָ֖ה וַתֹּ֣אכַל אוֹתָ֑ם וַיָּמֻ֖תוּ לִפְנֵ֥י יְהוָֽה׃
Vayikra 11: 45-47
"For I am HaShem who brings you up from the land of Egypt to be a God unto you; you shall be holy, for I am holy. This is the law of the animal, the bird, every living creature that swarms in the water, and for every creature that creeps on the ground. For distinguishing between the impure and the
pure, and between the creature that may be eaten and the creature that may not be eaten."
Rabbi Eryn London creating distinctions and boundaries is imitiating God
The word “to distinguish,” להבדיל, is used in two other places in Tanakh. The first time we see it used is in B’reishit, when God creates the lights in the sky in order to distinguish between the day and the night (B’rashit 1:14). The last time it is used is towards the end of Ezekiel when the Prophet is describing the Temple in chapter 42, verse 20 “Thus he measured it on the four sides: it has a wall completely surrounding it, 500 cubits long on each side, to separate the consecrated from the un-
consecrated.” Rashi commenting on Vayikra 10:10, tells us that one must distinguish in order to differentiate between the work of קדוש and the חול, from sacred and profane work. And later, with regards to 11:47, he says that the distinction needs to be more than theoretical, rather an actual physical separation is required. Similarly, in Ezekial, Rashi comments that the reason for the separation was to physically distinguish between the holiness of the Temple and the mundane of the rest of the
world.
Summary: there are many opinions regarding what exactly was Nadav and Avihu's sin. In the Yalkut, Rabbi Mani concludes that it is because they entered the sanctuary while drunk, or that without washing their hands and feet first, or without (the priestly) clothing, or due to the fact that they did not have children, or did not marry wives, or taught halacha in front of Moshe their teacher, or because they would go around saying " When will these two elders (Moshe and Aharon) die and you and I will rule over the public?", or as punishment for Aharon for taking part in the sin of the Golden Calf...all of these opinions, even though they have some basis in the verses, in any case this verse contradicts them, as it states, " and they offered a strange fire in front of G-d, which G-d did not command them." We learn from this that they did not have any other sin, aside from this one.
Nechama Leibowitz, New Studies in Vayikra, p. 124
Evidently, Nadav and Avihu did not offend against any ritual precepts but sinned by reaching for God through the dictates of their own hearts rather than through the path set by God. Submission to the yoke of Heaven — the ultimate aim of the Torah — was here supplanted by unbridled religious ecstasy. Hence their punishment.
It is neither through momentary passion nor even through self-sacrifice that the religious goal is attained but rather through the discipline spelled out in the precepts of the Torah. Many consider such submission to the commandments, as against spontaneous worship stimulated by personal and subjective sentiments, as mechanical and objectionable. Yet...it was precisely the unrestrained desire to ascend to forbidden heights that constituted an unpardonable sin.
Avigayil Halpern, "Shmini: Messy Lives"
Do you think that’s how Elazar and Itamar felt, serving in the Mishkan? Did they try to quash all emotionality as they fulfilled the sacred rites of the Mishkan? Did their own fear serve as enough of a check on any outpouring of awe or of love? Did they dip their fingers in the blood of korbanot and tell themselves “I’m doing this because God commands it?"
Kli Yakar on Vayikra 10:1
And that which you say that they did not wash their hands and feet, it makes sense that there was a strange fire, since as they did not sanctify their hands and feet from the basin, they were mundane in a sacred place. And therefore this fire is called a strange fire, since the strangeness reverses the sanctity, as is written, “and any stranger [non-priest] shall not eat the holy [sacrifices],” therefore it says “each man took his fire-pan.” Since it was his own fire-pan, which didn’t have a holy aspect, and all of this was since they didn’t sanctify their hands and feet, and since they sinned with water, therefore they were judged by fire, which dominates in a place where there is no water found to extinguish it.
Avigayil Halpern, cont.
The Kli Yakar explains that according to the interpretation that Nadav and Avihu’s sin was a failure to wash their hands and feet, the essence of the problem was that they brought mundanity into the holiness of the Sanctuary. Their messy lives came into the untouchable holy space. This interpretation suggests that a person must cleanse themselves before engaging with the holy, that our “own fire-pans” do not belong there.
(cont)
The Kli Yakar argues that by failing to wash their hands, Nadav and Avihu “היו חולין במקום קודש,” “they were mundane in a sacred place.” But the same word he uses for “mundane,” “חולין,” is the name of the Talmud tractate that details the laws of kashrut. It is called “Chullin” because it appears in the order of Kodashim, Holy Things, where all the other tractates deal with the sacred laws of the Temple. Kashrut is mundane, for everyone.
After Nadav and Avihu are burnt up for bringing too much of themselves, their passion, their firepans, their unsanctified bodies, into the Mishkan, the parsha dwells on “chullin.” These mundane animals, their bodies which are simply for our food, occupy substantial real estate in the parsha. The mitzvah of kashrut is all about this mundanity. It takes places outside of the Mishkan, inside our homes and our bodies. Nadav and Avihu might have been punished for bringing chullin into the kodesh, but we are then exhorted to engage with chullin to become kodesh.
Kashrut is a way of bringing the holy into our lives, of orienting our very sustenance towards God’s will. Nadav and Avihu bring their messy lives into the Mishkan; kashrut is about bringing the Mishkan into our messy lives. That is where it belongs. Chullin is important.
What Parshat Shmini teaches us is that while we are asked to adhere to God’s will, it is also God’s will that God be in our lives, as we go about our days. God is in the Mishkan, where we might feel terror to enter, but God also wants to be with us as we sustain our unsanctified bodies. God wants to be part of our lives, not to engage with us only when we divest ourselves of everything we bring with us to the Sanctuary. We do not need to wash the mundane off of our hands to engage with God.
Read Avigayil's complete essay here: Shmini: Messy Lives