Approaching with Humility: Shemini 5786

 This item is also published in today's Hanassi Highlights. An AI-generated version of the text in Ivrit is reproduced here.

Parashat Shemini brings us to a moment of culmination. After the long process beginning with the Exodus, the construction of the Mishkan is complete, and the eighth day finally arrives—the moment at which the Divine Presence will dwell among the people.

At the centre of that moment stands Aharon HaKohen, the same Aharon who is praised for fulfilling the command to light the Menorah without deviation. Aharon is the model of zerizut, of faithful and consistent avodat Hashem without hesitation.

And yet, here, at the very inauguration of his service, he hesitates.

Aharon must be encouraged: “Krav el hamizbe’ach”—“Come forward to the altar.” The wording is striking.

Rashi explains that he was overcome with shame and fear. The Ramban adds that the appearance of the mizbeach evoked for him the image of the Golden Calf. At the threshold of his greatest role, Aharon is confronted by a lingering sense of failure. How could he be the one to bring about the resting of the Shechinah?

Yet he is told: “Why are you ashamed? For this you were chosen.” Chazal’s formulation can be read in more than one way: not only that Aharon was chosen for this service, but that he was chosen for it precisely because of his reluctance.

Aharon’s hesitation is not incidental. It reflects a profound awareness of the gravity of avodat Hashem. He does not approach the mizbe’ach lightly. He is conscious of the responsibility, and of his own limitations. That very awareness is what qualifies him.

This becomes clearer when set against the later episode of Nadav and Avihu. They bring an esh zarah, a fire that was not commanded, and suffer tragic consequences. Chazal offer a range of explanations, but a common thread emerges: a failure of restraint, an element of overconfidence. Where Aharon hesitates before acting, they do not.

The contrast is sharpened further by Aharon’s response to their tragic deaths: “Vayidom Aharon”—“Aharon was silent.” Even in the face of personal tragedy, he does not presume to explain. His silence reflects the same humility that marked his hesitation at the outset.

Aharon’s greatness lies not in certainty, but in perspective—the ability to carry responsibility without the illusion of complete mastery.

“Krav el hamizbe’ach.” The call to step forward remains. It is a call to step forward with awareness—with the knowledge that what we are doing matters, and that even when we do not feel fully equal to the task, we are called nonetheless.

Perhaps that is the enduring lesson of Aharon’s first step: not that one must feel ready, or certain, or even worthy, but that one must be willing to approach, carrying that very sense of hesitation.

For it is not despite that hesitation that a person is able to step forward—but sometimes precisely because of it.

Shabbat Shalom!

 

Holiness and hubris: Shemini 5785

The death of the two sons of Aaron remains one of the great mysteries in Torah narrative. Midrash and the commentators offer various explanations as to the cause of this tragedy: the sons did not want to marry, they had drunk wine and were inebriated, and other faults were ascribed to them. Since the work of the priests was so holy, they deserved to die. However, this is a difficult way to explain—if human beings can ever explain—why bad things happen to good people.

Some commentators see the deaths as retribution against Aaron himself for his role in allowing the Golden Calf to be created, causing the Jewish people to be seen in such a hideous fashion immediately after receiving the Torah. The problem with this explanation is that we learn that the sins of the father are not to be visited upon the children, nor the sins of the children to be visited upon their parents. Because of these difficulties, no matter what type of explanation we wish to explore, it seems to me that the response of Aaron to this tragedy is really the only response that human beings can make. That response is silence.

Aaron does not say anything and, in that silence, there is an acceptance of the fact that the judgment of heaven is always inscrutable to humans. Despite our best efforts and the wisdom of our commentaries, many times in life the question remains stronger than any potential answer that can be offered—and this itself draws the line between the Creator and the created, between heaven and earth.

 While we would naturally like to be able to understand everything, it is basically hubris on the part of human beings to assume that they can figure everything out for themselves. You will notice that this trait is ever-present within young children, who want to do everything on their own, and who believe that they can. This human trait has a positive side to it because it allows us to be creative and inventive, to attempt new things, and to gain new insights into life. However, it also has drawbacks. We eventually run up against a wall of ideas that we do not understand and which, to our mind, are irrational and even unjustified. We are, therefore, left in confusion and disappointment. The only solution is silence, acceptance, and, so to speak, to be able to move on even if we do not understand the events themselves.

Whenever there is a major crisis in our lives and in our society, there will be many who will assign reasons and causes for its occurrence. However, whatever reasons and whatever ideas are assigned, these will eventually be found wanting on the scale of human judgment and rational understanding. We must accept events for what they are and attempt to move on. Just as Aaron did, we will move forward and accept the judgment of heaven and renew ourselves in the service of God and of Israel.

 Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein

A Hidden Gem

 As a Kohen himself, our member Rabbi Paul Bloom naturally takes a deep interest in the priestly blessing that he and his fellow Kohanim bestow on us in Israel daily. In the following piece he enlarges on aspects of the famous three-fold blessing we have come to know and love so well.

The First Birkat Kohanim: A Hidden Gem in Parashat Shemini

Tucked away in Parashat Shemini, between the detailed descriptions of the Chanukat HaMizbe’ach—the dedication of the altar—and the intricate halachot of kashrut, lies a historic and touching moment: the very first Birkat Kohanim, the priestly blessing, given by Aharon HaKohen himself.

This is not merely a ritual act. According to the Torah, after completing the sacred service, Aharon turns to the people and blesses them. The actual text of the blessing—Yevarechecha Hashem veyishmerecha—does not appear here (it is found later in Parashat Naso), but the concept is born here: the initiative of blessing the people as an act of love and spiritual connection.

Aharon’s Initiative, A Heartfelt Blessing

Rashi, quoting the Midrash, tells us that Aharon said the familiar three-part blessing we're used to hearing today. Remarkably, Ramban points out that Aharon was not explicitly commanded to give this blessing. He did so from the depth of his heart, unprompted, in a spontaneous gesture of warmth and hope for Am Yisrael. This moment is not just ceremonial; it is deeply personal and profoundly moving. It reveals Aharon's character—a leader whose instinct is to bless, to give, to uplift.

Understanding the Threefold Blessing

The Birkat Kohanim contains three verses—each one short, but powerful. The Arizal teaches that these three blessings correspond to three major Yamim Tovim and their spiritual themes.

The Ba’al HaTurim draws this precise connection between the three parts of the blessing and the three core offerings: chatat, olah, and shelamim. Each one mirrors a dimension of human life—atonement, aspiration, and harmony.

1. Yevarechecha Hashem veyishmerecha – “May Hashem bless you and protect you”
    This is the berachah of shemirah, protection. It resonates with Pesach, the "Leil Shimurim"—a night of divine safeguarding. Just as Hashem protected the Jewish people from the dangers of Egypt, this blessing asks for continual divine protection from harm and from the consequences of past mistakes. It’s the korban chatat—atonement for human fallibility.
   
   
2. Ya'er Hashem panav eilecha vichuneka – “May Hashem shine His face upon you and be gracious to you”
    This represents or, divine light and illumination. It echoes the experience of Shavuot, the giving of the Torah, which enlightens and inspires our lives. It’s the light of guidance, clarity, and divine wisdom that helps shape our spiritual aspirations—what the korban olah symbolizes: elevation and striving for higher spiritual realms.
   
   
3. Yisa Hashem panav eilecha veyasem lecha shalom – “May Hashem lift His face toward you and grant you peace”
    The blessing of shalom—peace and wholeness—connects to Sukkot. The Sukkah envelops us in divine embrace and symbolizes unity and harmony, both within ourselves and among people. This reflects the korban shelamim, which brings peace between the body and soul, and between humans and God.

A Contemporary Insight

In human terms, these blessings can be seen as three spiritual pillars:

●      Shemirah is about healing and protection—having the ability to fix, to apologize, and to move forward after a mistake.

●      Or (Light) is about spiritual growth—the yearning to learn, to rise, and to connect more deeply to Hashem.

●      Shalom is about building peace—within ourselves, our families, our communities, and ultimately within Klal Yisrael.

Each time the Kohanim raise their hands, they are channeling not only divine energy but the selfless spirit of Aharon HaKohen, who first reached out with love to bless his people.

The Deeper Calling of a Blessing

It’s worth noting that when Avraham Avinu is chosen, he is given a mission: "Ve’heyei berachah" – “And you shall be a blessing.” This is not a casual compliment; it’s a job description. The Jewish people are meant to be conduits of blessing for the entire world. But to bless, we must first be blessed.The Birkat Kohanim, born in Parashat Shemini, is the divine energy that empowers us to carry out our role. It’s not simply a nice ceremony—it’s a spiritual plug-in. And it began with one man, Aharon HaKohen, who, without being told, looked at his people and chose to bless.

May we merit to receive that blessing with open hearts, and may it ripple outward—bringing kedushah, healing, and peace to ourselves, our communities, and the entire world.