Look Who Thinks He’s Nobody!

The Elusive Pursuit of Spirituality

By Rabbi Yoseph Kahanov Jax. Fl.

Moved by a powerful sense of humility and worthlessness, two spiritually accomplished mystics were observed rolling on the floor while repeatedly affirming their sense of worthlessness.

The true extent of their humility was not quite known however, until, to their chagrin, an individual of far lesser spiritual status decided to join them.

With rolling eyes, the mystics were overheard whispering to each other in utter disgust: “Look who thinks he’s nobody!”

“If you do His will only because it makes sense to you, then what has it got to do with Him? You are doing ‘your will’. You’re back in prison.” (Tzvi Freeman – Bringing Heaven Down To Earth)

“Spirituality” has got to be the most misused term in the human lexicon. It’s a word that could describe just about anything you want, from a spectacular sunset to a moving operatic rendition. It means as many different things to as many different people.

Generally speaking, spirituality connotes some type of extraordinary pleasant experience or feeling. Yet, there can be nothing farther from the truth, at least if Judaism has anything to say about it. In fact, according to Judaism, spirituality is the complete opposite. Spirituality, according to Judaism refers to that which is neither physical, pleasurable, or in any way selfish.

True spirituality is about the selfless journey towards becoming attuned and united with Divine reality and instruction. According to this definition, the “self,” to whatever extent it gets itself mixed-in – and you can be certain that try it will – is a hindrance and contradiction to the process and objective. This axiom is underscored in this week’s Parsha – Shmini.

Our Parsha recounts the events of the eighth day of the inauguration of the Tabernacle. The festivities reached a high note as Aharon and his sons were anointed and initiated into their holy service. However, the celebratory atmosphere with which our Parsha opens is suddenly and tragically marred by the shocking death of Aharon’s two sons – Nadav and Avihu.

It is natural to be perplexed when reading this portion. The swift and stunning demise of Nadav and Avihu is after all one of the all-time Torah tragedies. Two rising stars cut down in their prime, at the height of one of history’s greatest celebrations. What did these sons of Aharon do that was so wrong? Why did they deserve to die?

The Torah attributes their tragic fall from grace to the fact that they took a foreign fire and incense and brought them into the Sanctuary before G-d: “And Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aharon, each took his censer, and put fire in them, and put incense on each, and brought before G-d a strange fire, which He had not commanded them. And a fire went out from before G-d and consumed them, and they died before G-d,” (Lev. 10:1-2).

While there is considerable discussion among the commentaries as to the exact nature of their transgression, it is clear that Nadav and Avihu had no ill intent. They did not mean to rebel against the Divine authority and will. The commentaries agree that they were high-minded, spiritual men who sought to get close to G-d. Their death penalty was warranted only in light of their immense spiritual stature.

As for their error? It seems to have involved the proverbial intrusion of “selfness.” According to the commentaries, they failed to consult with Moshe or Aharon regarding their incense offering. They were led to this by virtue of their own highly charged emotions and drive towards spiritual ecstasy.

Others maintain that their transgression included having drunk wine before their sacred service, perhaps even becoming intoxicated. The evidence for this lies in the juxtaposed warning against entering the Tabernacle after drinking intoxicating beverages (10:9).

In the final analysis, Nadav and Avihu, it appears, were guilty of having allowed their own emotions and selfness to seep into the holiest Divine endeavor at hand. They crossed the line between Divine will and self-ecstasy and intoxication. Fine as it may be, it is a line that demarks complete opposites –Divine vs. self.

I am reminded of the story of the Chassid who, appearing before his Rebbe, breaks out in bitter complaint: “Rebbe, I am unable to serve G-d the way I would like. My wife gives me grief, my kids give me grief, I am strapped for cash – how in the world, under such circumstances, is one able to serve his Maker?!”

“Who’s to say that your Maker wants you to serve Him the way ‘you like’?” replied the Rebbe. “Perhaps the Almighty prefers that you serve Him the way ‘He likes’!”

Indeed, at every turn – every moment and every experience – no matter the level we’re at, we are presented with a fresh test – a test between doing that which G-d wants, because G-d wants, and doing that which we want. . . Or for the more complex creatures; a test between doing that which G-d wants and that which we want G-d to want, as is evident from the following aphorism related in Hayom Yom in the name of the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe:

“In a reply to a yechidus query in the winter of 5635 (1874-75), my grandfather said to my father: The yetzer hara, (the evil impulse), is called “animal soul,” not because it is necessarily a brute animal. At times it may be a fox, the most cunning of beasts, and great wisdom is needed to perceive its machinations. At other times it may clothe itself in the garb of an earnest, straightforward, humble tzadik, possessing fine traits of character.

The animal soul manifests itself in each person according to his individual character. One person may suddenly experience a powerful longing to study Chassidus or to meditate deeply on some chassidic concept. The truth is, however, that this is nothing more than the yetzer hara’s counsel and the animal soul’s machinations to prevent him from engaging in the avoda of davening or a similar activity…”

What makes the test so real is the fact that man continuously gravitates towards that which he can relate and internalize. He will naturally seek to humanize every experience even that which is designed to elude any physical grasp and bounds.

It is the tendency for the “self” to seep into every endeavor, selfless as it is meant to be. Selfishness, or selfness, inextricably comes at the cost of spiritual achievement. Being virtuous always entails sacrificing selfness and pleasure for the higher spiritual value.

The ultimate goal of having free will is, hence, the willingness to give it up. We must do what G-d wants us to do, not because we approve or enjoy it, but because is the only way to serve Him – the only way to achieve true “spirituality.”

This of course is much easier said than done, but the goal must always be to attain a level of servitude and subjugation that negates any possibility of dong a Mitzvah for any other reason than because it is the commandment of the Divine Commander.

Through our efforts in serving G-d for His sake; in accordance with His will and to the best of our ability removing our ego and self from the process, as the Mishna says: “Do not be as servants, who serve their master for the sake of reward, rather, be as servants who serve their master not for the sake of reward” (Avot 1-3) we will hasten thereby the coming of the righteous Moshiach BBA.

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