Shemini: Emotional Control and Lessons for Post-Pesach Blues

By Meir Jacobs

After the tragic death of Aharon’s two sons, Hashem commands Aharon and his two remaining sons

רָֽאשֵׁיכֶ֥ם אַל־תִּפְרָ֣עוּ ׀ וּבִגְדֵיכֶ֤ם לֹֽא־תִפְרֹ֙מוּ֙ וְלֹ֣א תָמֻ֔תוּ וְעַ֥ל כׇּל־הָעֵדָ֖ה יִקְצֹ֑ף וַאֲחֵיכֶם֙ כׇּל־בֵּ֣ית יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל יִבְכּוּ֙ אֶת־הַשְּׂרֵפָ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֖ר שָׂרַ֥ף יְהֹוָֽה׃

They should not let their hair grow long nor tear their garments, as per the usual custom for mourners, rather the rest of bnei yisrael will mourn the deaths of Nadav and Avihu, but not Aharon and his sons, the deceaseds’ father and brothers.

Rav Soleveitchik comments that this pasuk not only begs the question of why Aharon and his sons are unique in that they aren’t allowed the right to mourn their dead, but also nods to a more fundamental question: Human nature is to mourn the loss of a beloved relative. In modern psychology it’s considered healthy and necessary for grieving individuals to have some sort of outlet for their grief, some sort of mourning period through which they can process the intense emotions they feel. In commanding Aharon and his sons to leave the mourning of their sons and brothers to the public, while personally showing no signs of mourning and carrying on their lives as if nothing had happened, the Torah is demanding of them to go against their basic human nature and instinct! How could the Torah demand or expect of anyone to go against their own psychological and emotional makeup?!

The Rav notes that this isn’t only an expectation of כוהנים גדולים, but of ordinary people as well, as when one is sitting shiva for a relative, shiva is suspended by שבת and canceled by a חג. In the words of the Rav:

“Now let us visualize the following concrete situation The mourner, who has buried a beloved wife or mother, returns home from the graveyard where he has left part of himself, where he has witnessed the mockery of human existence. He is in the mood to question the validity of our entire axiological universe. The house is empty, dreary, every piece of furniture reminds the mourner of the beloved person he has buried. Every corner is full of memories. Yet the halacha addresses itself to the lonely mourner, whispering to him: “Rise from your mourning; cast the ashes from your head; change your clothes; light the festive candles; recite over a cup of wine the Kiddush extolling the Lord for giving us festivals of gladness and sacred seasons of joy; pronounce the blessing of [שהחיינו וקיימנו והגיענו לזמן הזה]; join the jubilating community and celebrate the holiday as if nothing had transpired, as if the beloved person over whose death you grieve were with you.” The halacha, which at times can be very tender, understanding and accommodating, may on other occasions act like a disciplinarian demanding obedience. The halacha suggests to man, broken in body and spirit, carrying the burden of an absurd existence, that he change his mood, that he cast off his grief and choose joy.”

It must be, then, that the Torah expects of everybody to be in complete control of not only their actions, but their emotions as well. And in response to this begging question, the Rav writes only that “I have no right to judge. However, I know of people who attempted to perform this greatest of all miracles.”

While this is a message which can be applied to nearly any situation in avodas Hashem, I think it has unique relevance to the time of year we find ourselves presently in.

Right now, the week after pesach, is prime time for the Post-Pesach Blues. Picture the scene: You just came out of a fun bein hazmanim. There were family trips, outings, great matza pizza, and a week ago you may have had a really uplifting seder. But there’s a little bit of discomfort when looking back at your bein hazmanim because you know there was something missing, something you could have done better. And for myself, and I’m guessing for many others as well, that thing was Torah. Maybe there was no Torah learned. Maybe there was some learning, but it was sporadic and not kavua. And maybe it was kavua, but just not as much quantity as you think you should have done. Whatever the case may be, it’s a well-documented phenomenon. Many of us have the Post-Pesach Blues, and the question, as always in yiddishkeit, is how we respond to it.

After Hashem commands Aharon and his sons to refrain from mourning, Hashem speaks only to Aharon, and tells him to do three things:

וַיְדַבֵּ֣ר יְהֹוָ֔ה אֶֽל־אַהֲרֹ֖ן לֵאמֹֽר׃

יַ֣יִן וְשֵׁכָ֞ר אַל־תֵּ֣שְׁתְּ ׀ אַתָּ֣ה ׀ וּבָנֶ֣יךָ אִתָּ֗ךְ בְּבֹאֲכֶ֛ם אֶל־אֹ֥הֶל מוֹעֵ֖ד וְלֹ֣א תָמֻ֑תוּ חֻקַּ֥ת עוֹלָ֖ם לְדֹרֹתֵיכֶֽם׃

וּֽלְהַבְדִּ֔יל בֵּ֥ין הַקֹּ֖דֶשׁ וּבֵ֣ין הַחֹ֑ל וּבֵ֥ין הַטָּמֵ֖א וּבֵ֥ין הַטָּהֽוֹר׃

וּלְהוֹרֹ֖ת אֶת־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל אֵ֚ת כׇּל־הַ֣חֻקִּ֔ים אֲשֶׁ֨ר דִּבֶּ֧ר יְהֹוָ֛ה אֲלֵיהֶ֖ם בְּיַד־מֹשֶֽׁה׃

1. Don’t drink wine when you or your sons come to the אוהל מועד

2. Separate between קודש and חול and טמא and טהור

3. Teach בני ישראל the Torah

Rabbi Rosner in his sefer Shalom Rav brings down the Netziv who ties the three seemingly random commandments together. Says the Netziv: Hashem is continuing to address Aharon’s emotional state after his loss. First, Aharon might have a hava amina that if he can’t express his pain through the usual means of mourning, he will instead drown out his sorrows with alcohol, so Hashem prohibits him from doing so. Instead, Hashem gives him a different outlet: Study the laws of טומאה וטהרה and teach torah.

Rabbi Rosner discusses how Rav Soleveitchik experienced torah as a comfort in his times of distress and mourning, and how he felt the shechina with him late at night, nodding in approval when he came up with חידושי תורה.

We have all had moments when we felt tremendous joy in our learning. And for each person those moments manifest themselves differently. But for most of us, those moments aren’t consistent, and could even be few and far between. And I would speculate that even the Rav may have had moments where the torah he was learning wasn’t so sweet and comforting. So how can we understand this solution that Hashem gives to Aharon, to study the laws of טומאה וטהרה and to teach torah, and through that he will be comforted?

Maybe the answer is right there in the pasuk. Hashem specifically tells Aharon to be מבדיל בין קודש לחול ובין הטמא ובין הטהור, which Rabbi Rosner interprets to mean studying the laws of טומאה וטהרה. Why does Hashem ask Aharon to study this area of halacha specifically? And why does Hashem command Aharon not only to learn, but להורות את בני ישראל, to teach it as well?

Maybe one can suggest as follows: טומאה וטהרה is the paradigm of a חוק, loosely defined as a mitzvah we do not and cannot fully understand. Hashem is telling Aharon “Be עוסק בתורה, and specifically the parts of torah which you don’t completely understand. And you’re not going to know why these halachos exist, but they do. And you’re going to master these halachos (among others) to the extent that you can teach it to others, and through this your spirit will be revived.”

Maybe the message being communicated to Aharon and to us is עץ חיים היא למחזיקים בה, that Torah is a reviving force after any life experience because it is the source of life itself, and we don’t need to understand why. It is the עץ חיים, and we just need to be מחזקים בה. We need to take hold of it not because it’s geshmak, but because it is life itself. Once we internalize that, then it will resonate with us as being the עץ חיים that it is.

Coming out of what may have been a disappointing בין הזמנים, we can be דנים קל וחומר לעצמנו: If Hashem expects of us to go against our own human nature to flip a switch from mourning the death of a close relative to rejoicing on a חג, Hashem expects us to overcome our natural instinct to feel dejected and self-pitiful, and manually force a sefer back into our hands, a shiur back into our ears, and the sweet words of torah back into our hearts — and only then will we appreciate it. May we progressively internalize this idea, and each be מחזק the rest of the chevra as we head into a new זמן, and as we approach מתן תורה in the weeks ahead.