This article is based on teachings from Rabbi Nachman Elsant, SHLITA
WARNING: The contents of this article has not been reviewed by a Rabbi yet.

What is a relationship? I’m not talking about the abstract meaning of the word, but rather specifically what constitutes a relationship between two individuals? 

Is it enough that they simply feel a bond with each other? Do they need to specifically make a commitment? Can some individual have a relationship with someone they’ve never met before, like a famous actor or athlete?

Nadav and Avihu

Vayikra 10:1 tells us a short story of the demise of Aaron’s two oldest sons: Nadav and Avihu; A story which I believe can shed some insight to the above questions as well as help us perfect our own relationships with each other and with our creator. 

Aaron was the Head Cohen of the time and so too his sons were also cohanim, meaning that they merited permission to perform the ceremony of the burning of the incense upon the golden altar in the ‘holy’ room of the mishkan (tabernacle). 

Their deaths are detailed in only two psukim; The first pasuk describes how they took their fire pans (shallow dishes that are designed to be used as the base of a tiny bonfire), filled them up with ‘fire’, and brought before god a ‘foreign flame that was not commanded’. Note the wording in Hebrew: “Esh zara”… More on this later.

Like all the Mitzvot, HaShem gave very specific instructions on how this ceremony was to be performed. Presumably based on the wording in the first pasuk, they performed the ceremony in a manner that contradicted the way it was commanded of them. 

The second verse details the consequences of their actions: A fire came forth from before HaShem and consumed them [the brothers], and they died before HaShem.

This raises a very apparent question: What exactly did the brothers do wrong? The commentators have various opinions for why the brothers warranted such a harsh penalty: some say they were drunk, some say they performed the service at night, ETC… 

In my opinion, the question of what they did wrong isn’t anywhere near as interesting or as important as the question of why they did wrong. Perhaps the psukim don’t say what the brothers did wrong because not only is it not the point, but it’s distracting from the point, which is exactly what the pasuk says it is: that they offered a ‘foreign flame’ that wasn’t commanded. 

Why?

So let’s try and answer what seems to be the real question: Why did they offer said flame? 

Perhaps the brothers didn’t really know what they were doing?
I would say not due to the severity of the punishment. The punishment for breaking shabbat on purpose is death, but the punishment for breaking shabbat by accident is that you’re obliged to bring a burnt offering to the temple. Seeing as they received death it seems fair to say that they knowingly went against the command of HaShem.

Perhaps the brothers were just really reckless?
The brothers are mentioned a few times in the book of Shmot before they died, particularly in chapter 24 where they are honoured on the same level as Moshe and Aaron. HaShem calls up the elders of Israel and Nadav and Avihu are mentioned first by name implying that they were the heads of the elders of Israel.
Moshe even called them the pride of Israel. (source needed)
Rashi to the one of the psukim right after the deadly incident says that Moshe said to Aaron “I knew the mishkan would be sanctified by those close to HaShem. I thought it would be through me or you, but now I see that they were greater than I or you”.

It doesn’t seem to me reasonable at all to suggest people of their stature could have been so reckless to such a harsh extent.
So it very much seems like their actions were deliberate and that even though they knowingly went against the word of HaShem, they must have thought that whatever the transgressed didn’t apply to them, so that’s what they were punished for.
But death seems like a harsh punishment for good intentions, right? Or does it? 

The brothers knew what they were doing perfectly well, they knew it was technically the wrong thing to do, and they did it anyway, and the nature of the mistake they made leading them to the severe transgression is shown in the psukim themselves, in a metaphoric manner. 

In the aforementioned chapter 24 of Shmot, describing the revelation and matan Torah at Sinai, pasuk 11 says “HaShem didn’t raise a hand against the elders of Israel. They beheld HaShem and they ate and they drank”. 
The occurrence at hand should have been very heavy and severe and treated with reverence and awe. HaShem caused flame and smoke to spout out from the mountain in a brilliant and shocking display. And yet Nadav and Avihu seemed to find it entertaining, and were treating it like they were the audience of a show, eating a drinking in merriment. And the pasuk starts off the way it does to show us that from that incident, they deserved to die as Rashi points out citing Midrash Tanchuma, and yet god for the special occasion decided to spare them and didn’t lift a hand against them.

And this was their relationship with God. They loved God, but in a lighthearted manner. 
Generally speaking, there’s two ways we relate to god: avinu and malkeinu. 
Neither of those is like a ‘pal’. We’re supposed to love HaShem, yes, but we’re also supposed to love him with reverence, severity and awe. 

As stated before, they knew what they were doing was wrong, but they also loved HaShem and they knew that HaShem loved them back, and so they rationalised that since there was such strong love, and since they knew that HaShem would love them no matter what (as he does everyone) it was OK for them to perform the incense ceremony the way they felt was right and not like the way it was commanded, and that HaShem would simply feel their passion and understand and be happy with their fervourous servitude.

The brothers had a strong burning love and passion, and their burning passion manifested into a flame and consumed them. 

The Gemara in Sanhedrin (52.) describes a machloket tannaim about whether the burning was of the body or of the soul. But they both agree based on the wording of the pasuk that the burning was from within and their bodies remained intact at least outside. 

Relationships

When it comes to relationships between people there’s ‘what I want’, ‘what you want’ and there’s ‘what we want’. 
Oftentimes, when we enter a relationship we do so with the intention of getting ‘what I want’ and simply hoping that ‘what I want’ is the same thing as ‘what you want’ (though this equity isn’t the same thing as ‘what we want’). 
Or if they are different, we hope that you’ll agree to give me ‘what I want’ and in turn I’ll agree to give you ‘what you want’. 
Only the mindful and refined of us will go into a relationship with the intention of getting ‘what we want’, which is not the overlap of ‘what I want’ and ‘what you want’, but rather it’s what is best for the relationship as a single unit. 

In order to do this, you need to be able to think of the two of us as a single unit, and not just as individuals trying to get ‘what I want’ from a mutually beneficial relationship. 
But the above, while being a good thing to know, isn’t really the point here, which is that one who goes into a relationship with the mindset of trying to get out of it ‘what I want’ is making a mistake. 
With this attitude, you’ll probably make the mistake of thinking that since we’re in a relationship together that ‘what I want’ is the same as ‘what you want’ since ‘what you want’ is to make sure I get ‘what I want’ because you might think that that’s what a relationship is. 

As an example of the above, let’s say we have David and Saul as flatmates. David calls up Saul and asks him to clean the dishes as is his usual duty, but David decides to mop the floor instead, thinking that Saul will appreciate it more. Saul’s usual duty is to mop the floor so he’s quite content to do it, but David doesn’t clean the dishes thinking that since he is mopping the floor, that that makes up for not cleaning the dishes. 
To David it looks like everything is OK, that he and Saul are on the same page, that they’re friends so it must be OK since he’s doing his part diligently. But of course Saul told him it isn’t OK… so it isn’t, even despite how much David feels like it is. 
Saul then comes home with his guests ready to serve them some food but now all the dishes are still dirty… This of course is irrelevant to Davids transgression, but it drives home the point that even if you think that you’re doing is well and good there still could be consequences to your actions.
You need to trust when someone you’re in a relationship with asks you to do something.

Do you think that David’s insistence on constantly doing the dishes and never mopping the floor is strengthening or weakening his relationship with Saul?

This is the mistake that Nadav and Avihu made, and the Torah is coming to teach us what the consequence is: and that is that this mistake is a lethal one: It will kill your relationship. 

It is well known that interpersonal relationships are sustained through compromise. Going into the relationship with ‘what we want’ as the primary focus is great, but ‘what I want’ and ‘what you want’ still need to be attended to, and sometimes they can’t coincide. So compromises need to be made so that they can at least partially be attended to. 
However, a compromise only works if all in the relationship agree to it. Even if you know the person you’re compromising with really well, you can’t just expect them to make sacrifices for you just because you’re willing to make some other kind of sacrifice for them. 
The fact that you really feel like this is the absolutely reasonable thing to do doesn’t mean that the other person agrees with you, and just because you’re certain they should agree with you, doesn’t mean you’re correct. 

In order to be reasonable you need actually have a reason.

Heavenly Relationships

However, the principles of compromise don’t hold up in a relationship with HaShem for a number of reasons, one of which being that you unfortunately can’t communicate with HaShem. Another more to the point reason is because unlike your fellows, HaShem is perfect in every aspect, and being all good, he has your absolute best interest at heart. 
The implication being that if he tells you something, your feelings on the matter are irrelevant since it must simply be that it’s the best thing for you, regardless of whether you feel like you need a compromise here or not. 

OK, so you may think “but what about in this case…” and “what about in that case…”, and for those we have the Rabbis and Poskim who are the people who know and understand Torah so well that they earned our collective trust in informing us what HaShem’s will is in certain situations. 
An example being if, chas ve’shalom, someone is severely injured on Shabbat, it is OK to desecrate shabbat and drive them to the hospital. It never says this in HaShem’s Torah, but we it to so from the Poskim who can prove it raionally based on Jewish principles that are in the Torah.
This is not a compromise but rather a definition of the scope of HaShem’s commandment for us to abstain from melacha on Shabbat.

Rest assured that whatever qualm you may have about a halacha, someone throughout the 3 centuries of our history with much better understanding and authority has thought about your case and still the halacha doesn’t follow whatever compromise you may be thinking of because despite the way you might feel, it simply isn’t the will of HaShem. 

As an example of how this can lead to the same mistake as Nadav and Avihu, let’s say you’re currently on the edge of the kriat Shma window and you’re really invested in what you’re doing (like laying in your bed, for example) so you decide to let it pass and you decide that you will say it afterwards with such a strong connection and so much fervour that you simply know that HaShem will be delighted with you even more than he would have been had you recited kriat Shma how you normally would have within the window. 
Unfortunately for you, you are wrong. Despite your passion, connection and fervour, God wants you to say Shma in the allotted time window. By consciously deciding to miss it, or even by not making enough of an effort to make the window, you’re offering up the foreign flame of Nadav and Avihu and putting yourself on track to killing your relationship with Ha Kodesh Baruch Hu. 

The Spark Lives in Us All

We all have the spark of Nadav and Avihu within us. And I really mean everyone, from all wakes and creeds of life. I see it all the time, including from myself. Akin to the example above, I myself have a strong drive to make brachot while in doubt, knowing that the halacha is that if you have a doubt, you don’t make it. I just really want to praise HaShem for the enjoyment I get from eating or from a mitzvah and I can’t help but feel like HaShem appreciates the passion I make my brachot with, not to mention that he wouldn’t appreciate me forgoing an opportunity to bless him. 
I used to make those brachot knowing it’s wrong but I started making an effort to disappoint myself in the name of doing the right thing. 

It’s worth noting that this kind of error can be remedied with a change in attitude: Instead of thinking that I’m missing out on an opportunity to fulfil a mitzvah taaseh, and I can instead think of it like I have an opportunity to fulfil the aforementioned halacha of not making a bracha when in doubt.

Don’t think that this mistake isn’t prevalent even amongst the most pious of communities. 
I heard a story of a Rabbi that went to visit one of his students but he wasn’t home because he went out to tovel some kitchen equipment that doesn’t require tvila. He had taken up himself a chumera of tvila, presumably thinking that it would render him more pious or that it was HaShems will.
When he returned, the Rabbi chastised him, accusing him of bittle Torah since he could have used that time to learn Torah.
You may feel like you understand God’s will for us even through his own words, but be careful lest you accidentally offer the foreign flame. 

The non-orthodox sects of Judaism are founded on this mistake. 
Many reformed and conservative Jews do believe in a God, but believe the words of the written and oral Torah aren’t what God wants from us. 
That’s what he wanted from people in ancient times but surely not us today, right? 
They read the words and it doesn’t align with how they feel, so they perform according to their feelings rather than God’s will.

And those who don’t believe in God at all may as well be making the same mistake. To them, the words of the Torah could not have been written by God since it doesn’t align with their own beliefs and what they know so surely and passionately to be true, so they serve their own Gods based on their passion instead in a similar fashion to Nadav and Avihu. But as we spoke above, this is not how a relationship works… This is how a relationship dies. 

And even forgetting about God, today almost everyone believes that their lifestyle is right and just. What God may or may not have said is of no concern. So what do you do when there’s no basis for goodness and justice? Whatever you feel is right. And the truth is that generally people’s feeling are coming from a place a kedusha, but the problem is that they simply don’t take into account that these feeling need to be grounded and refined by a higher power. It’s enough to just know passionately that I’m right and my way is just.

And don’t think that the spark that I’m talking about only applies to a heavenly relationship. I’ve already demonstrated how even if we come into a relationship with good intentions we can accidentally slip and let our own passions burn our relationship. It’s only natural and even unavoidable that we think we can please the other on our relationship on our terms. The spark of Nadav and Avihu will be found in us all at various stages of our lives. 
But a spark only lasts for a single moment before it goes out. It’s important to be able to recognise the spark when it flickers lest we let it ignite into the flames of passion, burn us from the inside and kill our relationship. 
This is the lesson that Nadav and Avihu died to teach us. They died so that we wouldn’t have to… so that we would not succumb to the same fate.

Esh Zara and Avodat Zara

If the term “esh zara” (foreign flame) sounds familiar to you, this isn’t a coincidence since there is a strong connection between the esh zara that the brothers offered and avodat zara (idolatry). This connection can be understood through the overlapping word between them: ‘zara’. 
The word zara is rooted by the Hebrew word zar, which means strange. If you want to say in Hebrew that something is strange you would use the word ‘muzar’ which is of said root. 

However the word zara is often translated into English as alien, which makes sense for avodat zara since you would be worshipping the God of an alien nation, which is why I personally translate it as foreign.

But surely the same can’t be said here for the righteous brothers Nadav and Avihu… Or can it?

Let’s say for a moment that I as a Jew (chas ve’shalom) say that the God of the Jews, HaShem, is the true god, but he doesn’t want us to keep shabbat: Is this avodat zara or not? I’m worshipping the god of the Tanach, right? The God of Avraham, Itzchak and Isarel, The Jewish god… right? Wrong. This god is a fundamentally different god. You can say it’s the same god all you like but when you desecrate shabbat in the name of your god you are indeed committing avodat zara since the god of the Jews did specifically command us to abstain from melacha on shabbat. 

Instead of worshipping HaShem by committing the incense ceremony they way HaShem himself commanded, by performing the incense ceremony the way they did, they were essentially worshipping a god who was allowing them to serve him in the way they did, which of course is a God that isn’t HaShem and of course doesn’t exist. 
Comparatively to the example I gave above with serving an alien god by (for example) writing on shabbat, the mistake of the brothers Nadav and Avihu was significantly more severe. 
Though both are abominable, there’s a big difference between serving an alien god by doing something mundane like simply writing innocuous text and by serving an alien god in a way that resembles authentic worship of a deity, such as bowing down to an idol. 

In his commentary on Shmot 22:19, Rashi demonstrates that the death penalty for avodat zara is only warranted with the worship of an alien god specifically with an act like that of which is performed in the inside of the Mishkan/Beit haMikdash; like for example for sacrificing of an animal or performing the burning of incense. 
And now the brothers Nadav and Avihu had not only performed an incense rite to an alien god, but they did it in the second holiest room in the mishkan itself the place where HaShems very own presence rested! They served a foreign god right in his face!

If you previously thought that maybe their deaths was a harsh punishment, in light of this understanding of the nature of their crime perhaps now you would find it reasonable to believe that their instantaneous deaths was a greater mercy than they deserved!
(Though of course this isn’t true since HaShem is a perfect judge and the brothers were righteous after all…)

The reason why strange is also an apt translation is because avodat zara is an inherently strange thing to do. Why on earth would anyone ever worship a false god? You’re literally just worshipping a god that doesn’t exist. You made him up… What could you possibly have to gain other than communal acceptance from other avadei zara? And yet we know from the books of Shmot, Shoftim and Melachim that the Isrelites who witnessed the awesome might of HaShem himself were rampant in avodat zara. 

And what if I told you that we still are today? It’s simply taken a new form. 
The Israelites of then had a crippling desire to worship god’s that don’t serve them, and so to today do we all (Jewish or not) behave in ways that don’t serve us, and we know it, and still we persist and justify it saying that we feel like this is the right thing to do given the circumstances.

How many people out there do you think would gladly say that money won’t make you happy and that it isn’t that important and yet still relentlessly pursue it? How many people do you think say that family comes first and then find any excuse to spend as much time away from their family as possible?
Everyone has a god, it’s just that if your god isn’t all loving, all powerful, and all knowing, then your god is going to be money, or power or sex or status or anything vane and temporary.
And this is still a detriment even for people whose god is of a more riotous form such as family, or fixing the world, or healing those around them… They too will be consumed by the flames of their passion, though it won’t be anywhere near as painful compared to those whose god is money, status, ETC…

And what happens when someone really doesn’t have a god? The same thing when someone is unable to serve their god: they become depressed and they go see a therapist and the therapist tells them they need to start serving a god (IE. having something to live for, a reason… A purpose…).

The yetzer hara for avodat zara is still alive and well today, and we’re all like the Israelites of then, and we who commit avodat zara unaware of our actions will end up just like brothers Nadav and Avihu, burning ourselves with the flames of our passions and killing our relationship with HaShem in the end.

Do not let the spark on Nadav and Avihu ignite into a flame