The story of Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, plunges right into that question. It's a tale filled with both tragedy and a strange kind of… merit?

We find this story in Leviticus 10, but the bare bones of the text are fleshed out in the rich tapestry of Jewish legend. Ginzberg, in his Legends of the Jews, paints a portrait of two men who were, in many ways, exceptional. And yet… they met a sudden and fiery end.

What went wrong?

Well, according to the Rabbis, pride played a huge role. These weren’t just any young men. As Ginzberg elaborates, they were somebodies. Their father's brother was a king, their father was the High Priest, their mother's brother was a tribal prince, and they themselves were heads of the priestly families. Imagine that pedigree! They looked around and thought, "Who is good enough for us?" So, they remained unmarried, and many women were left waiting, hoping for their attention.

But their pride went even deeper. The Midrash suggests they secretly wished for Moses and Aaron to pass away so they could take over leadership. A little impatient, perhaps? As God says, "'Boast not thyself of to-morrow;' many a colt has died and his hide had been used as cover for his mother's back." In other words, don't count your chickens before they hatch.

The climax of their story comes with the offering of "strange fire" (esh zarah) before God. This act, described in Leviticus, seems simple on the surface, but the Rabbis see layers of transgression. They didn't seek permission from Moses or Aaron. They didn't even consult each other! Each acted independently, driven by their own sense of importance.

And the specifics are damning. They allegedly drank wine before entering the Sanctuary, which was forbidden. They didn’t wear the proper priestly robes. They hadn't sanctified themselves with water from the laver. According to some accounts, they even entered the Holy of Holies, a space strictly off-limits! And, crucially, they offered incense when God hadn't commanded it.

It was a complete breach of protocol, a ritual disaster.

But here's the twist. Despite all these sins, the legends also emphasize that Nadab and Abihu were, in many ways, righteous men. The Sifra, a tannaitic midrash on Leviticus, even says that God grieved their deaths more than Aaron did! Why? Because, despite their flaws, they possessed genuine worth and piety.

So, what are we to make of this?

Perhaps the story of Nadab and Abihu isn’t just a cautionary tale about pride and disobedience. Maybe it’s also a reminder that even good people can make terrible mistakes. That even those who possess great potential can be undone by their own hubris. And maybe, just maybe, God sees something in us – even when we stumble – that we don't always see in ourselves. It's a complex and uncomfortable truth, but one that resonates deeply within the Jewish tradition.