This week’s parashah, Shemini, is the culmination of several portions read in Shemot. In Terumah, God reveals to Moses a pattern, detailing the Ark, the Menorah, the Table, and the structure of the Mishkan – a Divine pattern emerges to shape what is inaugurated in Shemini.

Next, in Tetzaveh, the service and priestly garments were discussed –  Aaron’s garments, the priestly role, and elements are introduced that will be used in the service, such as oil, incense, etc. Here, the level rises; we move from a physical plane (the place) to a level of how the person who will serve before God and people should present themselves, about who they are and how they should serve.

Ki Tisa recounts the rupture caused by the golden calf, when a service not ordained by God was offered, resulting in the death of some of the people. This crisis led Moses to break the tablets, suggesting that any spiritual manifestation without instruction or framework leads to deviation, ultimately resulting in death.

Vayakhel depicts the start of the construction of the Tabernacle, with the contribution of all the materials as offerings. The emphasis was not on the materials but rather on the generosity of the people to the point that Moses had to ask them to stop giving. Some contributed materials, others their creativity, and others their labour. And now Israel is united by one task: to carry out the work entrusted to Moses in Terumah. Now spirituality descends to a practical level.

In Pekudei, the Mishkan is finished –everything done according to God’s command, and the climax was that “The Glory of God filled the void, the Mishkan.” Again, the emphasis was not on the building itself. That is, the fruit of obedience with humility is the manifestation of the Divine Presence. The Mishkan alone is meaningless; man and the Divine Presence must interact, and this can’t happen if they live in separate worlds. So, the “chosen meeting place” became the focal point where God, who is omnipresent, chose to manifest Himself. And now, man would have the opportunity to “draw near” to God. Man cannot be everywhere, which is why God gave him a place. But to be able to draw near properly, God designed the Korbanot (the offerings) for those who wished to approach in a structured way, thus defining the system of offerings.

Now that there are people who wish to draw near to God in “His house,” there have to be, for the sake of order and structure, those who could receive them and guide them so that their offerings are presentable before God. So, in Tzav, instructions are given to the priests, to Aaron and his sons, who were consecrated for seven days, having received precise instructions on how to carry out the service.

The timeline: Terumah is in the month of Sivan at Mount Sinai. Forty days later, on the 17th  of Tammuz, the incident of the Golden Calf occurs. God forgives us and, on Yom Kippur (10th of Tishrei), He gives us the second set of tablets. The Mishkan is subsequently built between Tishrei and Adar, and on the 1st of Nisan, after seven days of consecration, Shemini occurs. Some scholars estimate that 9 to 10 months have passed between the delivery of the design and this day of inauguration, underscoring the fact that it was a sublime day for everyone, a day of great anticipation. A wonderful depiction of a gestation cycle in which the pregnancy is at its end, and everyone is awaiting the moment of birth.

But on the day when the most awesome spiritual climax this world has ever seen should have happened, instead, misfortune occurs. The portion states that Nadav and Avihu presented: “eish zarah asher lo tziva otam, strange fire that was not commanded to them.” The consequence? Death, sadness, and the pain of their father, Aaron, family separation, feelings conflicting with the joy of spirituality and the awe of the Divine Presence.

The structure of the passage describes the inauguration of the priestly service, with Moses instructing Aaron on how to execute it (9:2-22). God manifests himself (9:23-24), accepting the offering, creating a unique moment of connection between the human and the Divine. And then, something happens that “spoils” the celebration: Aaron’s sons offer a strange fire (10:1-7), and a Divine fire consumes them. Next, God indicates that the priests cannot appear before Him under the influence of wine (10:8-11), and then God establishes dietary restrictions for Israel (10:12-20; 11:1-47) that will set them apart (kadosh – holy) from other nations.

But what is all this really about? I believe all the sections deal with the same central theme: “Closeness to God is the most glorious thing a human being can experience, but it also requires delicacy.” That is, not every spiritual impulse is right or good; rather, intentions must be conscious and ordered. Our holiness must be accompanied by structure, not spontaneity.

I remember that as a young man, I used to have very intense spiritual experiences, to the point that I lost physical awareness of time, space, and location—experiences in which I would lose control, supposedly speaking in “angelic tongues,” where I would fall to the ground in “spiritual ecstasy.” Being “Pentecostal became addictive after coming from the exactitudes of Roman Catholicism, where the “spirit” did not flow freely.

Later, when I turned to a more mystical path, I also found that seeking profound spiritual experiences through Gnosticism and meditation was very powerful, but was that really what God ordained? I understand that many of us want to experience spirituality outside of ritual, a siddur, the repetitive coldness of prayer, and the temptation of “extrasensory” offerings in the spiritual world today. Again, I believe the problem with spirituality is that without a “framework” or “structure,” it can lead to consequences like the one in this passage.

We read in the Haftara (2 Samuel 6:1-7:17) that King David was transporting the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem on a cart; the Ark almost fell, and to prevent it from hitting the ground, Uzzah, quite innocently and with sincerity or reverence of heart, reached out to stop it from falling. What was the result? Uzzah died, apparently from an unordained act of approaching the Divine. Again, the pattern ends in tragedy. It seems this pattern repeats itself: “The spiritual world requires order.”

In an example of a high-voltage power line, a question arises: Is energy good or bad? The classic answer: It depends. For energy to be channelled properly, it requires a containment system – a cable. If we expose ourselves to pure, direct energy, the result is disastrous, but if we approach it in a “protected” way, with gloves and specialized equipment, the result is positive, bringing electricity into our homes and helping us in our daily lives.

So the question is, how do we approach Divine energy? In a world that wants to live without rules, without order, it’s now almost unthinkable to structure how to approach God. In the Mishkan, a fire rose like a pillar at night, providing light, heat, and protection. But we also read that a fire struck down Nadav and Avihu. God wants us to relate to Him in closeness, but with limits, with awareness (not drunkenness), and with structure (i.e., order). It’s not about distancing ourselves; it’s about drawing closer in an appropriate manner.

Nadav (נדב) comes from the root meaning “to offer voluntarily, spontaneous generosity,” i.e., an energy that is potentially uncontained. And Avihu (אביהוא) “He is my Father” or “my father is He (God),” implies an intimate closeness. Together, they are very elevated: spiritual spontaneity (Nadav) and intimacy with God (Avihu), but this intensity may have led to the presentation of a fire not ordained by God. In contrast, Eleazar (God has helped me) and Itamar (Island of palm trees, or place of stability) remain alive, that is, in balance. Something similar happened to their father, Aaron, with the Golden Calf; he endorsed a “religious” expression not ordained by God, that is, spirituality without clear instruction, a kind of strange fire. The result? Death. We learn then that not all closeness to God is valid simply because it is intense or sincere; we require instruction, limits, and form.

So, how do I know if I’m offering strange fire to God? How creative can I be in my relationship with God? First, I think it’s a gray area, but we must understand that the Torah is our framework, and there are explicit commandments that we cannot change and are not subject to our personal interpretation, such as: “You shall have no other gods before me, you shall not murder, a man shall not have sexual relations with another man”, etc. These are commandments that leave no room for interpretation. Then there can be re-interpretations that don’t eliminate the original commandment, but rather expand on it within a framework to make it more practical today. For e.g., when Yeshua said: “You shall not murder, but if you have destructive anger, then it’s already as if you were murdering,” or “You shall not commit adultery (physically), but if you desire another man’s wife in your heart, you are already committing adultery,” or “You shall love your neighbor, including your enemy.” The interpretation complements, rather than changes, the original commandment. Second, it comes with humility; so, it allows itself to be examined and validated by others. Third, it is sustainable over time.

The dangers today are that there are people whose spirituality is an experience in which “they feel it’s right, therefore, it’s right.” Others “seek to skip processes,” such as not implementing the prescribed fire and seeking a new formula. Third, intensity, but without structure. As I said before, I spoke in tongues, but honestly, I didn’t even understand what I was saying, and I had no self-awareness. It was a very powerful experience, but it had no foundation. The result of living under high levels of spiritual sensation made me unstable. After coming out of intense spiritual experiences, I felt that I would no longer make the same mistakes that troubled me, because I was like a kind of “Saint Mauricio.” However, the reality was that ten minutes after leaving that state of ecstasy, I would find myself repeating the same mistakes, which led me to feelings of  frustration and guilt—in other words, I lacked stability.”

Shemini, the eighth, implies that which is beyond nature, where a cycle is broken, where there is transcendence. It’s like saying, in the first 7 days the Mishkan was made, and in the eighth, God manifested. It moves from what humans are capable of (7) to the experience where the Divine breaks through (8). What do we learn then? That there are two levels of spiritual life: one level where there is matter, system, order, and discipline, and another level where there is the Presence of God, spiritual intensity, and transcendence, and that if we don’t enter properly, it can end up in tragedy.

In closing, all the portions from Terumah to Shemini corrected the error of the Golden Calf, which wasn’t just idolatry; it was trying to approach God without waiting for or respecting the proper channel. In Terumah, God corrects us from “freely inventing forms,” ​​giving us an exact model of the Mishkan.

In Tetzaveh, God corrects the notion that “anyone can do it,” defining the roles of the Aaronic priesthood and giving structure to the service.

In Ki Tisa, he exposes the problem, showing us impulsive spirituality, impatience, and the need for “something tangible.” The problem is that “humans want to control the Divine.”

In Vayakhel, He corrects intentions; the people gave toward the building of the Mishkan, while in the making of the Calf, everyone gave, but for destruction. Here, we learn that generosity, when channelled correctly, does not overflow in the wrong direction.

In Pekudei, He corrects the implementation, because “everything was done as God commanded or as He commanded Moses.”

In Vayikra, He corrects the approach, giving us clear rules for the Korbanot (sacrifices). “Approach properly.”

In Tzav, He corrects the preparation, giving seven days of training; there is discipline before acting. Emotion does not replace training.

The final test occurs in Shemini, when the true Divine Presence manifests. Here, Nadav and Avihu fail in an “unordered spiritual initiative,” which is immediately corrected by the release of Divine fire.

My wish is that God manifests Himself to each of us in the personal way we need to feel and live our spirituality, but that we do so at the right time, with the right intention, and within the right framework so that we may bear much fruit.

Shabbat Shalom

Mauricio Quintero