But for Elisheba, the joy is amplified fivefold! As Ginzberg recounts in Legends of the Jews, luck seems to be showering blessings specifically on her. Her husband, Aaron, is the High Priest, the most holy position. Her brother-in-law? None other than Moses himself, the King of Israel! Her son, Eleazar, holds the esteemed position of head of the priests. And her grandson, Phinehas, is the priest of war, a position of power and respect. Even her brother, Nahshon, is a prince, a leader of his tribe.
Can you imagine a day filled with so much pride and happiness? Every corner she turns reflects her family’s prominence and favor.
But the Talmud (Sanhedrin 52a) reminds us that joy and sorrow often walk hand in hand. The Talmud tells us that Nadab and Abihu were punished for four sins: offering a strange fire, going into the Sanctuary while drunk, entering without washing their hands and feet, and not having wives. Elisheba's joy, so potent, so complete, is about to be shattered. Her two sons, Nadab and Abihu, caught up in the fervor of the dedication, decide to add their own offering. They take their censers, intending to increase God's love for Israel through this extra act of devotion.
It sounds innocent enough, doesn’t it? An eagerness to show their devotion. A desire to contribute to the already overwhelming joy.
But instead of being lauded for their piety, they meet a tragic end. The story, as told in Legends of the Jews based on various Midrashim, is chilling. From the Kodesh Hakodashim (Holy of Holies), two thin flames, like threads of fire, emerge. These flames divide into four, and two pierce the nostrils of each brother. Their souls are consumed, yet their bodies remain outwardly untouched. No visible wound, no sign of struggle – only the extinguishing of life.
The Midrash Rabbah on Leviticus describes this scene vividly, emphasizing the unexpected and horrifying nature of their demise. It was an act of God, a divine judgment delivered swiftly and silently.
Why? What did they do wrong? The Torah tells us they offered an eish zarah (strange fire) before the Lord, "which He had not commanded them" (Leviticus 10:1). They acted without being commanded, taking initiative in a realm where only divine instruction was permitted. According to the Talmud (Sanhedrin 52a), they were punished for a variety of sins, including entering the Sanctuary while intoxicated, failing to wash their hands and feet, and even for not being married. Some interpretations suggest their eagerness, their very enthusiasm, was itself a transgression – a presumption of divine favor.
Elisheba's story is a stark reminder of the fragility of happiness. It highlights the unpredictable nature of life, where blessings can be followed by unimaginable loss. It’s a story that stays with you, isn’t it? A cautionary tale woven into the very fabric of Jewish tradition, reminding us that even in moments of greatest joy, we must remember humility and reverence. And that perhaps, true happiness is not in the accumulation of blessings, but in the ability to navigate both joy and sorrow with faith and grace.