Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, each took his pan, put fire in them, and placed incense upon it, and they brought before the Lord foreign fire, which He had not commanded them.
Vayikra 10:1
One of the most discussed topics in today’s world of religious thought is the question of human autonomy versus man’s obligation to carry out God’s command. Which is the higher religious value: to serve God in a spontaneous outpouring of religious devotion (autonomy), or to obey the Divine imperative (obedience)?
For centuries, Jewish thinkers have struggled with this issue in an attempt to find some solution to the problem. No doubt, spontaneity must play a crucial role in the religious experience. But who is wise enough to know what makes an extemporaneous burst of religiosity into authentic service of God?
We find several incidents in the Torah where human beings decided to take religious devotion into their own hands, only to pay a heavy price. Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aaron, brought a “strange” (illicit) fire into the Tent of Meeting and lost their lives because of this autonomous act.[1]
Obligation as a greater value
Professor Yeshayahu Leibowitz z.l., relying heavily on earlier commentaries, writes:
Just as it is possible for a person to be drawn to regard the (golden) calf as god even when his intention was to worship God… The worship of God itself, if not performed with an awareness that one is obeying an order of God, but because of an inner drive to serve God, is a kind of idolatry—even when the person’s intentions are to serve God. The faith which is expressed in the practical mitzvoth in the worship of God is not something which is meant to give expression or release to man’s emotions, but its importance lies in the fact that the person has accepted upon himself what, in the post-Biblical tradition is known as the yoke of the kingdom of Heaven and the yoke of the Torah and Mitzvot. Faith is expressed in the act which man does due to his awareness of his obligation to do it and not because of an internal urge… [otherwise,] this is illicit fire.[2]
A careful reading of a comment by the Ohr Hachaim seems to support this view. He wonders why Parashat Lech Lecha begins with an unusual introductory clause: “And God said to Avraham, lech lecha me-artzecha (leave your country)…”[3] As this is the first time in the Torah that God speaks to Avraham, the appropriate phrase would have been: “And God appeared to Avraham and said, lech lecha…” The Ohr Hachaim understands the absence of this clause to mean there was only Divine speech but no Divine revelation. In other words, there was no exalted religious experience that would have transformed Avraham, but only a voice speaking to him, which he recognized as coming from God. The Ohr Hachaim[4] offers two possible reasons for this, one of which is that up until then Avraham had not yet received any Divine commandment to which he had responded with absolute commitment. In the Ohr Hachaim’s words, “God refused to grant Avraham the ultimate revelation until He put him to the supreme test—whether he would carry out His commandment, or not.” Only after Avraham had proven his devotion by fulfilling God’s commandment (obedience) would God be willing to appear to him and have him undergo a religious experience of the highest order.
It is for this reason that the commandment lech lecha was not preceded by the words “And God appeared to Avraham.” The Torah indeed informs us that God did actually appear to Avraham then, but only after he fulfilled this commandment.[5]
The risk of religious spontaneity
A famous midrash tells of an act of great heroism on the part of Avraham. Nimrod, the despot of those days threw Avraham into a kivshan ha-esh (fiery furnace)—the first holocaust experience of the first Jew—because Avraham refused to worship Nimrod. Versions of this midrash appear in several places in the Oral Torah, and yet it appears nowhere in the Written Torah.[6] Why is this? The answer may quite well be based on our earlier observations. As impressive as this episode may have been, it in no way sets the standards for Jewish worship. After all, Avraham acted on his own; he was not commanded by God. It was doubtless a correct and desired response to Nimrod’s tyranny, but it was an autonomous one. As such, it lacked the fundamental disposition of a religious act commanded by God.
Spontaneity, then, seems to have value only when it deepens the mitzvah, not when it tries to replace it. Perhaps the most glaring proof of this fact is derived from the incident of “illicit fire” which was brought by the sons of Aaron in the Tent of Meeting. Nadav and Avihu paid with their lives when a deeply religious urge overwhelmed their commitment to religious obligation.[7]
When autonomy is needed
And yet, this is not the whole story. According to the Talmud,[8] our patriarchs were called yesharim—honest, upstanding men. Commentators explain that it was their unusual objectivity and refusal to be influenced by external negative forces that made them yesharim—individuals of outstanding moral character. In fact, they are of the opinion that the patriarchs did not always behave by halakhic standards alone, but conducted themselves according to even higher moral ideals, especially when interacting with their fellow men. This is well expressed by the Yiddish word menschlichkeit.
Thus, Avraham took action to rescue his nephew Lot from captivity, even though it meant taking on a tremendous personal risk. It may be argued that many of the narratives in the book of Bereshit reflect this ideology. The Netziv, Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehudah Berlin (1817-1893) goes out of his way to emphasize that the patriarchs showed the greatest compassion even towards idolaters. His dramatic words are well taken:
Besides the fact that they were tzadikim (righteous) and chassidim (pious) and showed great love towards God, they were also yesharim in that they behaved respectfully towards the most distasteful idolaters; they related to them in a loving way and were concerned about their welfare since this is the foundation of all civilization….This is clearly to be deduced from the degree to which Avraham struggled and pleaded with God to spare the people of Sodom who were thoroughly wicked…and how Yitzchak went out of his way to appease the shepherds of Avimelech who caused him great difficulties….The same is true about Yaakov who showed infinite tolerance towards his father-in-law Lavan.[9]
These observations by the Netziv are surprising in light of the fact that the Torah later introduces the law of “lo techanem”—You shall not show them (the idolaters) any favor[10]—which has far-reaching halakhic import for the relationship between Jews and non-monotheistic gentiles.[11]
It is clear that there are occasions when spontaneity is dangerous, as Nadav and Avihu so tragically learned. And yet, there are occasions when we are called upon to act, like the patriarchs, with autonomy, and not wait for the Divine command. How then, are we to know when to be spontaneous and when to act exactly as we are told?
The distinction is clear: In the sphere of relationship between man and God, we must conduct our religious lives out of a genuine sense of obligation, and not translate spontaneous urges into self-imposed rituals which have no intrinsic connection with a particular mitzvah. “Extra-religious ritualism” is unacceptable.
But when it comes to our relationships with other human beings, the case is different. When the welfare of our fellows is at stake, we are encouraged to act beyond the requirement of the law, with spontaneity and without waiting to be told to take action.[12] By going beyond the letter of the law, we deepen our religious commitment.
Questions to Ponder
- The example of Nadav and Avihu illustrates the dangers of spontaneous religious acts. However, it’s possible that an overemphasis on obedience might stifle genuine spiritual expression and creativity. Do you agree that worshiping God out of an internal urge rather than obedience to Divine command may be considered a form of idolatry? Do you feel that there really is a dichotomy between conducting religious life out of a genuine sense of obligation to God versus translating spontaneous urges into self-imposed rituals?
- At the opposite end of the spectrum, Rabbi Cardozo highlights the actions of the patriarchs, who often went beyond the requirements of the law in their dealings with others. How do you personally determine when it is appropriate to act autonomously in moral and ethical situations, particularly when such actions might conflict with established religious laws?
- How can individuals develop the wisdom to discern when to rely on personal judgment and when to adhere strictly to religious laws? What role does personal conscience play in religious observance?
- Rabbi Cardozo implies that the understanding and interpretation of Divine commandments may evolve over time, influenced by changing ethical standards. How should religious communities approach the reinterpretation of commandments in light of contemporary moral values? Can this process lead to a deeper and more meaningful observance of religious principles?
- The Netziv points out that the patriarchs showed compassion even towards idolaters, despite later Torah injunctions against showing favor to non-monotheistic gentiles. Rabbi Cardozo offers one way of resolving this contradiction. Can you think of others?
Notes
[1] Vayikra, 10:1-2.
[2] Yeshayahu Leibowitz, Notes and Remarks on the Weekly Parashah, trans. Dr. Shmuel Himelstein (Brooklyn, New York: Chemed Books, 1990), 106.
[3] Bereshit 12:1.
[4] Ibid. Ad loc.
[5] Bereshit 12:7.
[6] See Eruvin 53a; Pesachim 118a; Bereshit Rabba, Vilna ed., 39:3; Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer, chap. 26 and numerous other midrashim.
[7] Vayikra 10:1-2.
[8] Avodah Zarah 25a.
[9] Ha’emek Davar, Introduction to Bereshit.
[10] Devarim 7:2.
[11] See Nathan Lopes Cardozo, Jewish Law as Rebellion: A Plea for Religious Authenticity and Halakhic Courage (Jerusalem: Urim Publications, 2018), chap. 22.
[12] Whether this conclusion is entirely correct is a matter of interpretation. Many new customs, rabbinical enactments and stringencies in the worship of God have been introduced throughout the centuries. They may however be seen as ways to give more substance to the Divine command.
