A Strange Fire: When Religious Creativity Crosses the Line

As I have been doing podcast interviews for my forthcoming book, “God Was Right: How Modern Social Science Proves the Torah is True,” I have been making the case that the Torah is the ultimate guidebook for life – a book that does not belong in the religion section of the bookstore but in the self-help section. I invariably make the point that every verse in the Torah offers a point of interesting, profound and practical guidance.

Often, the podcast hosts will follow up with – “Even Leviticus?”

Yes, even Leviticus – and sometimes, especially Leviticus. In these discussions, which I have enjoyed a great deal, I have come to a new conclusion about the Bible. Leviticus is certainly underrated. In fact, it might be the most underrated thing in the entire world.

This can be evident to everyone who considers the parsha (Torah portion) that will be read, and hopefully studied, on Saturday in synagogues throughout the world – Shemini.

The Torah portion begins with Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aaron, bringing “before Hashem [God] a strange fire that He had not commanded them.”

A heavenly fire then comes forth and consumes the brothers.

What, the reader is drawn to ask, is the “strange fire”? We know that it is something that God “had not commanded.” Aside from that – we don’t know anything about it, and for good reason. The story is not, like all Biblical stories, about the characters in it. It is about, and for, each of us. If the “strange fire” were illustrated by a particular kind of flame, we could easily say that that specific thing is what upset God. The absence of a description of the “strange fire” leads us to conclude that there are all kinds of things that might qualify – and to ask what, in our world, might earn this Divine displeasure.

The Torah text, as usual, guides us to the answer. It can’t be mere creative religious expression. In Exodus 35, God’s greatest prophet (Moses) expresses amazement and even awe towards Betzalel – the artisan whose work demonstrates that “the spirit of God” is within him. Miriam, Moses and King David break out in song that God did not order, but very much approves of.

This same authorization of religious creativity is evident in prayer. The question of personal religious expression comes to the fore in Numbers 11. The 70 elders were prophesying in the camp, with clear Divine authorization. But then a youth comes and tells Moses and his protege Joshua, “Eldad and Medad are prophesying in the camp.” These two men had not joined the others at the Tent of Meeting and were still prophesying in the camp – seemingly in some kind of religious fervor.

Will Moses and God consider this mode of religious expression an “strange fire”?

Joshua thinks so. He exclaims to Moses: “My lord Moses, incarcerate them!”

Moses demurs, explaining that their personal religious expression has within it “the spirit of God.”

So: We see that the Torah simultaneously encourages and even celebrates some creative religious expression (that of Betzalel, David, Eldad/Medad) while condemning some others (that of Nadav and Avihu). What, then, might distinguish between legitimate and illegitimate modes of creative religious expression? How can we tell if our religious expression is that of Nadav/Avihu or Eldad/Medad?

The Torah offers guidance (“as God had commanded”) – but not a bright line. God, for instance, does not “command” David to sing – but David is universally praised for having done so. It makes sense that the Torah (and the subsequent tradition) offers no bright line between what might constitute authorized and unauthorized religious expression. Religious expression is too fluid and adaptable for a single bright line to sustain through the generations.

But the Torah does suggest some guidelines. Eldad and Medad prophesied “within the camp” – indicating that their religious expression was a continuation and perhaps an adaptation of the established practices of the community. Miriam, Moses and David broke into song of praise and gratitude for what God had done. Betzalel beautified God’s home on earth. Hannah prayed to have a child. And Nadav and Avihu are specifically punished for having brought a fire that God did not command when there were offerings that had been commanded.

The fact that the Torah is clear that there are legitimate and illegitimate modes of expression within the Jewish tradition is an important teaching. And it leads us to ask: How can we distinguish, among our religious expressions, whether we are more like Nadav/Avihu or Eldad/Medad?

One helpful way might be to ask whether the expression is for God or using God for our own purposes – whether the expression seeks to use contemporary modes to glorify God or is using God to justify one’s desires or views.

Examples of creative adaptions that are “as God has commanded” – in the spirit of the Torah, with the clear purpose of glorifying and growing God in the world – include Women’s Torah Study classes, female Rabbis (I say this with conviction as a Rebbitzin!) and definitely Six13’s Passover story told to a Billy Joel tune.

Examples of creative adaptations that are not “as God has commanded” include Rabbis who cite a verse (assuredly out of context) to make a political statement, the inclusion of an orange on the Seder plate and religious celebrations where an extravagant party (rather than study, service and commitment) is the focus.

Shabbat is approaching – and it, among so many other things, presents the opportunity to follow the Psalmist and sing “a new song to Hashem.” So let’s embrace a new song (or prayer or teaching) – and just make sure that it is to and for Hashem!