From Kodesh to Chol: Remembering the Ordinary, Even When You Are So Extraordinary
Parashas Acharei Mos brings us right back to the beginning of Shemini, where we learned about the tragic death of Aharon’s sons. The parashah goes on to detail the Avoda of the Kohen Gadol on Yom Kippur, through which he achieves Kapara for himself, his family, and all of Klal Yisrael.
Between the deaths of Nadav and Avihu in Shemini, there’s been lots of water under the bridge; aside for celebrating Pesach, we also read the parshiyos of Tazria and Metzora. Why is the Torah, in the introduction to the Yom Kippur Avodah, revisiting the death of Aharon’s children? This could have been simply noted as "Hashem spoke to Moshe," as is often found in the Torah.
The Tiferes Shlomo gives an amazing explanation. He suggests that Nadav and Avihu didn’t necessarily die as a form of punishment, but because their closeness to Hashem was so great that there was no place for them on Earth. However had they used their proximity to Hashem to daven for the people, they would have been able to exist here.
He quotes the Gemara in Berachos1:
תניא, אמר רבי ישמעאל בן אלישע: פעם אחת, נכנסתי להקטיר קטורת לפני ולפנים, וראיתי אכתריאל יה ה׳ צבאות, שהוא יושב על כסא רם ונשא, ואמר לי: ״ישמעאל בני, ברכני!״ אמרתי לו: ״יהי רצון מלפניך, שיכבשו רחמיך את כעסך, ויגולו רחמיך על מדותיך, ותתנהג עם בניך במדת הרחמים, ותכנס להם לפנים משורת הדין״. ונענע לי בראשו. וקמשמע לן, שלא תהא ברכת הדיוט קלה בעיניך.
Rabbi Yishmael ben Elisha, the Kohen Gadol, said: Once, on Yom Kippur, I entered the innermost sanctum, the Kodesh Hakedoshim, to offer the Ketores, and in a vision I saw Akatriel Ya, the Lord of Hosts, one of the names of God expressing His ultimate authority, seated upon a high and exalted throne (see Isaiah 6).
And He said to me: Yishmael, My son, bless Me.
I said to Him the prayer that God prays: “May it be Your will that Your mercy overcome Your anger,
and may Your mercy prevail over Your other attributes,
and may You act toward Your children with the attribute of mercy,
and may You enter before them beyond the letter of the law.”
Hakadosh Baruch Hu, nodded His head and accepted the blessing. This event teaches us that you should not take the blessing of an ordinary person lightly.
The Tiferes Shlomo explains that the Torah references Nadav and Avihu to serve as a reminder to the Kohen Gadol that when he goes into the Kodesh Kedoshim on Yom Kippur, he should say a short tefilla for the needs of Bnei Yisrael.2 He explains that of course Rav Yishmael ben Elisha was no ordinary person, hedyot. Rather it means that when he said a beracha for the hedyot, for the ordinary man, that is when Hashem nodded His head, or as Rashi explains - said amen. The blessing for the ordinary person should not be treated lightly.
This is not just the role of the Kohen Gadol, but it is true of any person. The secret to greatness lies in not forgetting the ordinary as one ascends to greatness.
Rav YY Jacobson shares the following story which brings out this idea.
Feivel Shapiro, a member of the Belzer community in Antwerp and a descendant of Satmar Hasidim on his mother's side and Vishnitzers on his father's, shared a poignant story with me. Although his parents followed different Hasidic traditions, they prayed in a Belz synagogue.
In the early 1970s, Feivel, then a burgeoning businessman and community activist in Belgium, made a memorable trip to America during Purim. He found himself at a large gathering in Brooklyn, at the famous 770, the heart of the Lubavitcher community. Eager to meet the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, Feivel attempted to approach him but was initially turned away by the Rebbe's assistants.
Noticing Feivel's persistence, the Rebbe personally intervened. With a gentle gesture, he took Feivel by the hand and led him into his private office. There, they sat together in silence. Feivel, caught off guard by the sudden private audience, had not prepared any questions or notes, which was usually customary.
The silence was eventually broken by the Rebbe, who reached into his desk and pulled out a letter. He began to read from it—it was a letter from Feivel's mother, penned more than 25 years earlier. In it, she spoke about her imminent death and her concerns for her children, asking the Rebbe to pray for them.
Feivel was moved beyond words. He had only faint memories of his mother from his early childhood and had no knowledge of this letter's existence. Realizing that her love and concern had persisted through the years in the Rebbe's care was overwhelming for him.
When Feivel expressed his desire to keep the letter, the Rebbe shared something deeply personal. He explained that he read the letter every year before Kol Nidrei, as a part of his Yom Kippur preparations. It reminded him of the deep responsibility and the power of Tefillah. The letter was not just a memory but a poignant reminder that guided the Rebbe's appeals for mercy for himself and his community during the holiest day of the Jewish year.3
How might our own lives be enriched if we consistently remembered to value the blessings and needs of the ordinary people around us, even amidst our pursuit of spiritual or personal greatness?
Berachos 7
Yoma 53
I am printing this whole thing up and putting it in the front of my Yom Kippur Machzor.