Shemini: Sometimes You Just Can't Take It Back

I want to begin my blog post this week with an apology. Last week, I wrote at length about people writing "G-d" instead of "God," and I focused my (let's be honest) ire on a blessing card that was sent out with our Ohev Shalom Mishloach Manot for Purim. I neglected to say two very important things, and in doing so, I hurt the feelings of several people. First of all, our Mishloach 

Manot this year were AWESOME! Members of our Sisterhood, together with Hebrew School families and other volunteers, put a lot of work into procuring items, packing the boxes, and sending them out, and it was insensitive of me to focus all my attention on a silly card. I want to publicly thank Sisterhood & Co for all their hard work, and again acknowledge what a wonderful gift box they assembled and distributed. Second, I should have emphasized that Sisterhood was NOT to blame for choosing to send those blessing cards. We sent the same cards last year, and I never noticed the error! And who would think that a Judaica website would do such a thing?? My blog post embarrassed some people, and for that I truly apologize. I was trying to use the blessing card as a teaching opportunity - and I still stand by my comments about "G-d" in general - but I also hurt the feelings of some people that I truly respect and admire. Thank you again to Sisterhood for all their hard work and dedication, and I am sorry for not focusing on that the first time around.

As I try not to be too awkward in my pivot to this week's blog post, I do want to remain on the topic of regret. In this week's Torah reading, we see one of the more upsetting and confusing stories in the Torah; and that's really saying something! The Book of Leviticus focuses heavily on the service of the High Priest in the ancient Tabernacle, and the worship and responsibilities of the other Levitical priests. 

Our reading describes the installation of these priests, paying special attention to Aaron, the first High Priest, and his four sons. In the middle of this inaugural ceremony, two of Aaron's sons, Nadav and Avihu, approach the altar with their fire pans, and "they offered before Adonai alien fire which God had not commanded them to do" (Lev. 10:1). In an instant, fire blazes forth and kills them, to the shock and horror of their father, Aaron, their uncle, Moses, and surely every Israelite eye witness present. When I've spoken about this sad and strange story in the past, my main questions have been, what happened and why? 

We certainly can spend our time debating these valid questions. Various rabbinic sources suggest they were worshiping foreign idols, they were drunk, they were trying to seize power, or they were just being impetuous kids. As I mentioned earlier, however, right now I have been thinking about a different issue, namely regret. 

Sometimes we can take back what we say. We can correct mistakes quickly, we might even be fortunate to catch ourselves in the act and reverse course even before we've gone too far in the wrong direction. Occasionally, "sorry" is enough. If we truly did not offend or err on purpose, and can be appropriately and wholeheartedly contrite and remorseful, an apology MAY suffice. Here on the blog, I've also written in the past about avoiding phrases like "IF I offended." When we say, "I'm sorry IF I hurt you," we're really distancing ourselves from the apology, and not owning the hurt we've caused. No, pain WAS inflicted; whether on purpose or not. The question we should be asking now is, "How can I help make it right?" 

Our parashah, Shemini, however, comes to teach us a much more painful lesson. Sometimes it's too late to say "I'm sorry." We could spend hours, and pages and pages, trying to understand WHY Avihu and Nadav were killed, but we would be missing the point. 

Some mistakes are irreversible, and some are permanent. Drinking and driving, or even texting and driving, are just two examples that come to mind. There are countless situations we may find ourselves in, where we use poor judgment or someone ELSE does, with disastrous consequences. There are many, many good reasons to apologize; it's the right thing to do, it's mature, it's compassionate. But we rarely talk about the value of apologizing for two OTHER important reasons. 1) We should be grateful for the times when a "sorry" will suffice! Sometimes the hurt is too deep, and no amount of penitence can rectify a situation. 2) Apologize while there's still time. Who knows what will happen tomorrow? You cannot know if you'll get a second chance, and you simply cannot afford to wait and take that chance. None of us can.

Our lives can become filled with regret. Let us value the opportunities that are given us to make something right! Apologizing can be hard to do. It's easier to come up with 

excuses, to get defensive, to distribute blame, or to flat out deny, deny, deny. But saying "I'm sorry" can be cathartic, and it is a gift we give another AND ourselves. Rather than focus on the sadness of the deaths of Nadav and Avihu, we should read the text as a reminder and a caution. Don't wait! Try to live a good life, but acknowledge that none of us are perfect and we ALL make mistakes. Errors are opportunities for growth, self-realization, and humility. Learn to say "I'm sorry" a little more often and a little sooner, and perhaps you can live life with a little less regret and a lot more peace and harmony.

Photos in this blog post:

1. CC image courtesy of the Providence Lithograph Company on Wikimedia Commons

2. CC image courtesy of Junkyardsparkle on Wikimedia Commons

3. CC image courtesy of RogDel on Wikimedia Commons

4. CC image courtesy of BlairSnow on Wikimedia Commons