Acherei - Torah and Tea - Acharei Mot–Kedoshim: Getting Close to Hashem the Right Way

Tuesday 5/2/2017
How should a Jew seek closeness to Hashem? The Rebbe explains that true love of Hashem is not escape or self-fulfillment, but serving His will in practical mitzvos. Like Rabbi Akiva, one must enter in peace and return in peace, bringing holiness into the world.

 

Parshas Acharei Mot–Kedoshim – Getting Close to Hashem the Right Way

Today we read the double portion of Acharei Mot–Kedoshim. At the opening of Acharei Mot, the Torah returns to the passing of Nadav and Avihu, the two sons of Aharon. Their story introduces one of the deepest themes in Torah life: what does it really mean to come close to Hashem?

Every Jew believes that life has purpose. We are not here by accident. Chazal teach that everything in creation was made to serve man, and man was created to serve Hashem. In the end, all existence points toward Divine purpose.

The soul of a Jew is a spark of Godliness. It comes from a lofty source, but descends through many stages until it enters a physical body and this material world. Once clothed in the body, the soul no longer naturally senses the love, awe, and awareness of Hashem that it once knew. Our task in life is to uncover that awareness once again.

That is why we learn Torah. That is why we study Chassidus. The purpose is not only information, but transformation—to awaken the soul and help it feel closeness to Hashem.

The Tanya explains that mitzvos can be done mechanically, without emotion. The mitzvah is still fulfilled, but something essential is missing. A Jew is meant to serve Hashem not only with action, but with heart, mind, passion, and inner connection.

How does one develop that connection?

Sometimes by reflecting that Hashem is our very life. Without Him we have nothing. Sometimes by recognizing that Hashem is our Father, and awakening feelings of love and devotion. Sometimes by deeply contemplating the greatness of creation and the wonder of the Creator until the heart begins to respond.

This learning itself is a mitzvah. To know Hashem, to reflect on His greatness, and to seek awareness of Him is part of the purpose for which we were created.

The Tanya adds another path: compassion for the soul.

A person can feel pity for his own soul—how such a lofty spark has descended into the struggles and concealments of this world. That compassion itself can awaken a desire to elevate the soul and reconnect it to its source.

This is hinted to in the meeting of Yaakov and Rachel. The Torah says Yaakov kissed Rachel and then lifted his voice and cried. In the teachings of Chassidus, this becomes a symbol of union between Hashem and Knesses Yisrael, between the Divine and the Jewish soul.

A kiss represents inner connection. A hug represents embrace. When a Jew speaks words of Torah or prayer, it is like a kiss. When a Jew performs a mitzvah physically, it is like an embrace. Through Torah and mitzvos, one unites with Hashem.

Yet here lies a great danger.

A person may become so inspired, so uplifted, so absorbed in spiritual longing, that he wants only transcendence. He wants the experience of closeness, but not the responsibility of life in this world.

This is the deeper meaning of Nadav and Avihu.

The Torah says: “B’karvasam lifnei Hashem vayamusu”—they drew near before Hashem, and they died. Chassidus explains that they did not simply sin in the ordinary sense. They were overcome with longing for Godliness until their souls expired in that closeness.

Their desire was holy. But it was incomplete.

Hashem wants closeness, but not escape. He wants connection, but not abandonment of mission. He wants the Jew to remain in this world and sanctify it through Torah and mitzvos.

This same principle appears in the Gemara’s story of the four sages who entered the Pardes, the hidden dimensions of Torah. Of all of them, only Rabbi Akiva emerged whole.

The Gemara says not only that he left in peaceyatza b’shalom—but also that he entered in peacenichnas b’shalom.

That is the key.

If one enters spiritual life seeking personal thrill, emotional satisfaction, or self-fulfillment, there may be no brakes. The person may lose balance.

But if one enters with peace—with humility, with clarity, with the intention to do what Hashem wants—then he also exits in peace. He returns to daily life stronger, wiser, and more connected.

True love of Hashem is not “What do I gain from this?” but “What does Hashem want from me?”

This is why the Torah immediately continues with the service of the Kohen Gadol. Entry into the holiest place requires preparation, garments, marriage, responsibility, and restraint. Holiness must be clothed in life.

The Midrash says Nadav and Avihu lacked certain elements: proper garments, marriage, children. These all point to one theme—the absence of engagement with the world. They sought the spiritual without its expression in action, family, and mission.

The Torah teaches that this is not the ideal path.

Even the greatest inspiration must come down into practical mitzvos, family life, kindness, humility, and service.

A Jew may be moved in shul, stirred by prayer, inspired by song, uplifted on Yom Kippur—but the true test is what happens afterward.

Does the inspiration become action?
Does the closeness become commitment?
Does the feeling become holiness in everyday life?

That is the message of Acharei Mot–Kedoshim.

Get close to Hashem.
But do it the right way.

Enter in peace.
Return in peace.
And make this world a dwelling place for Him.

 
 
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