Prayer Moves Us Beyond the Self

This week we read a harrowing story. Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, bring a sacrifice, but are punished with death.

“Now Aaron’s sons Nadav and Avihu each took his fire pan, put fire in it, and laid incense on it; and they offered before God alien fire—which had not been enjoined upon them. And fire came forth from God and consumed them.” (Leviticus 10)

What was their sin? The sages offer numerous suggestions. Some say the sacrifice was not specifically commanded by God. But this would suggest that there is no room for spontaneous prayers. Are we only to offer the prescribed prayers and not those of our own hearts? Others suggest it was an alien fire. What is such a fire? Translating the Hebrew as foreign or strange does not remove the question of how can a fire be alien.

Still others argue Nadav and Avihu were intoxicated. They find support for this argument because immediately after this episode a law is transmitted forbidding the consumption of alcohol when performing sacrificial rituals. It is wise not to mix drunkenness and prayer. Who knows what one might say when under the influence!

A few rabbis argue they were overzealous and inexperienced youths. They were impatient with their father Aaron who continued to maintain his position as High Priest, refusing to make room for their younger generation. And yet how can their sin be so great as to merit death? 

The punishment appears extreme. The story continues to trouble me. Perhaps there is still a message to garner. 

When offering a sacrifice, or a prayer, one must let go of selfishness. Nadav and Avihu’s sin was that that they did not carry their fire pans together.  The Torah makes clear: “each took his fire pan.”  They only thought of their own prayers. They were not united. 

The essential prayer always begins in the plural, with “we.” 

Sometimes it is difficult to think of others. We are burdened by our own worries. We reach out to God with our own troubles. This tendency is understandable. It is also not what God asks of each of us. God asks us to think of others, to pray with others in mind.

Is this always possible? It is not. And yet it remains our tradition’s ideal. 

Nadav and Avihu’s prayers are deemed unacceptable. The danger remains. We might become consumed by the fires of selfishness. Our prayers might then wither. 

We spend much of our days focused on our own needs—or those of our family. Prayer offers us the opportunity to think of larger concerns, to expand our reach and place others at the forefront of our concern. 

Prayer is an invitation to move beyond the self and join hands with others.