“And the fire came down and consumed Nadav and Avihu as they were bringing a sacrifice to G-d.”
Twenty years ago, there was an individual who I thought would have been an excellent candidate to be the president of our community. A president back then was considered a tremendously influential job, who made some major and serious decision. This position was as important as the Rabbi of the community. The old guard were on their way out and this individual was a perfect choice. He was married with children, multilingual; he was very successful in business. He was Orthodox and he looked like Harrison Ford. The community desperately needed a strong leader. He would have been able to mesh together all the colorful personalities and bring out their best to help the community. He was influential and diplomatic, and both he and his wife had elegance, pizazz, and class.
However, it seemed like he had other plans. He and his family decided to make Aliya (migrate) to Israel. The dream that some of us had to build and unite this community was dashed. My heart bleeds with the unfulfilled potential he had. If he only knew, and if some of us were made aware of his talents, maybe it would have been an entire different ballgame.
Potential could make and change worlds; however, one has to be wise to bring it out of himself or bring it out of other people.
In the early 1900s, the NITZIV, a famous Rabbi in the Jewish literary world, once threw a celebration dinner to commemorate the finishing of one of his books. At the dinner, he told the story of his past. The NITZIV was not a very strong student, and one night he overheard his parents’ conversation in which they were seriously considering taking him out of Yeshiva and making him learn a trade, the shoemaker business. Coming from a famous Rabbinical family (Rav Chaim Veloshin was his grandfather), the NITZIV was appalled. He rushed into the room and begged and cried not to take him out of Yeshiva and they should give him one more chance.
Apparently, from that moment on, the NITZIV took his learning seriously and excelled to become the great Rabbi who taught thousands Torah, and his seforim (books) enlightens millions.
At the dinner, the NITZIV continued and said “I would have been a very good shoemaker and I would have been diligent in being kovea itim laTorah (learning a set amount of Torah daily). I would have been a fine up-standing citizen and waited to collect my reward from shamayim (heaven). However after 120 years, the heavenly court will judge me harshly and show me these books and say, ‘look, you didn’t live up to your potential; you could have written these masterpieces’.”
On Yom Kippur morning, when a person reads the portion about the death of Aharon’s sons (which we find in this weeks’ Parsha), he should feel sorrow to a point of tears. If one can get to that state of mind, then he will merit forgiveness for his sins and he will not see death of his children in his lifetime. What should one feel exactly? He should feel how man effects his surroundings and how a righteous man elevates his society. He should feel the magnitude of the loss. If a person misses the opportunity to acquire wisdom, then society losses. Nadav and Avihu’s mission in this world remains unfulfilled. Rashi, one of the main commentaries, says Moshe thought that Nadav and Avihu were greater than he and Aharon. Although one cannot question G-d of the circumstances of His world, one can feel the potential being taken away. In some instances, we have no control; however, in some, the potential is endless. |
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