One of the explanations the Midrash offers for the tragic deaths of Nadav and Avihu is “על שלא נטלו עצה זה מזה — because they didn’t take counsel from one another.” This signals a failure not in mitzvah observance but in bein adam lachaveiro, interpersonal relationships.
In the very next parshah, Kedoshim, we encounter the famous mitzvah of “ואהבת לרעך כמוך — Love your fellow as yourself.” The proximity of these two parshiyos is no coincidence. The Torah is connecting the tragedy of Nadav and Avihu to the heart of what it means to be holy, and that begins with how we treat others.
Rav Aryeh Levin, the legendary tzaddik of Yerushalayim, once demonstrated this mitzvah in a remarkable fashion. Rav Yitzchak Zilberstein recounts his accompanying Rav Aryeh to negotiate the release of a Neturei Karta prisoner. After hours of effort, they succeeded — only for the man to cover his eyes and refuse to look at Rav Aryeh, declaring, “It’s forbidden to look at a rasha!” because of Rav Aryeh’s connection to Rav Kook zt”l.
Deeply hurt, Rav Zilberstein turned to Rav Aryeh and asked, “Does the obligation to love another Jew extend this far?”
Rav Aryeh replied simply, “But he’s Jewish.”
That moment left a lasting impression on Rav Zilberstein, and it teaches us the depth of ve’ahavta lerei’acha kamocha. While it’s easy to love others when they’re kind and agreeable, the true test is when someone is offensive or even hurtful, especially after we’ve helped them. Most of us would assume that in that case, the mitzvah no longer applies. But Rav Aryeh saw something more — the tzelem Elokim within every Jew.
Parshas Kedoshim outlines many aspects of holiness — Shabbos, korbanos, and more — but its climax is bein adam lachaveiro: “ואהבת לרעך כמוך, אני ה׳ — Love your fellow, I am Hashem.”
Why end this mitzvah with “Ani Hashem”?
The Sfas Emes teaches that holiness comes from being part of Klal Yisrael. Rav Dovid Kviat expands: The Torah is telling us that the only way to truly love another person is to internalize “Ani Hashem.” Recognize that within each Jew is a Divine spark — a chelek Elokah mima’al — and just as Hashem sees past faults and forgives, He wishes for us to do the same.
We won’t become Rav Aryeh overnight. But recognizing this foundation can elevate our relationships and strengthen our avodas Hashem. Rav Akiva said, “זה כלל גדול בתורה — this mitzvah is a central pillar of the Torah.” To succeed in anything, we must believe we carry superhuman strength within, the spiritual inheritance we often forget we possess.
It may be compared to a poor man who discovers his father left him a hidden fortune and runs to claim it. We, too, possess inner greatness; we just have to harness and activate it.
The connection between Nadav and Avihu’s downfall and Parshas Kedoshim is clear. Despite their great holiness, without a corresponding care for others, it remained incomplete. Their failure to consult each other reflected a lack of unity. The Torah teaches us that the pinnacle of kedushah isn’t just in the Beis HaMikdash or with korbanos but in how we speak to, treat, and view one another.
We are not expected to be perfect. But tzaddikim like Rav Aryeh remind us that greatness is attainable if we work at it diligently. This is the season to reflect, to grow, and to realize that “impossible” is simply a failure to see the Divine potential within ourselves and others.
