There is a profound and sobering lesson in the tragic episode of Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aharon, who were consumed by a heavenly fire. The Yalkut Shimoni (Iyov #921) comments poignantly: “Who would not tremble at such a thing?” Consider the striking contrast: Titus HaRasha, the wicked Roman general, brazenly entered the Kodesh HaKodashim, the Holy of Holies—committing what may be the most flagrant sacrilege imaginable—yet he entered in peace and departed in peace. In contrast, Nadav and Avihu entered with holy reasons, seeking to perform what they believed to be the greatest mitzvah, and yet they did not leave in peace. The verse says that they were consumed by fire.
This is a difficult to understand within the hanhaga (conduct) of Hashem.
How can it be that such azus (brazenness)—Titus's arrogance—goes seemingly unpunished, while the two righteous sons of Aharon meet such a fate? How could the wicked go untouched, and the righteous be struck down? This touches the very depths of the derech Hashem, the ways of Divine providence.
To illuminate this, let us turn to an insight from Rav Eliyahu Lopian zt”l.
The Kohen Gadol would enter the Kodesh HaKodashim on Yom Kippur in absolute kedusha and tahara, such that even a fleeting, improper thought could result in death. Titus, though, a blasphemer, enters the same place without suffering any consequence. How can this be?
Rav Lopian recalled a story from his own childhood. As a boy, he was once overly playful and broke something in the house. His mother scolded him and disciplined him, teaching him a lesson. Moments later, a cat ran inside and broke something as well. But the response was entirely different. She simply chased the cat away.
Rav Lopian turned to his mother and asked, “Why the difference? Why do I get punished and the cat simply gets shooed away?” His mother responded, “Whom do I love: you or the cat?” “Me,” he answered. “Exactly. I punish you because I love you. I want to teach you. I want you to grow. I want you to be successful, to become someone who contributes to the world, not someone who damages it. The cat? Who cares. I just get it out of the house.”
“This is the chiddush,” says Rav Lopian. When it comes to Titus, Hashem says: "Let him go. Who needs him?" Ultimately, his reckoning will come and he will receive his punishment. But for now, Hashem lets him be.
But those whom Hashem loves, He speaks to them and He disciplines them. Because He knows they will listen and His words are not wasted on them.
That is the essence of onesh, Divine punishment. When we experience suffering or difficulty, Hashem is speaking to us. We must not interpret it as rejection. Rather, we must recognize it as love. Of course, we do not seek punishment. But if it comes, we must perceive it as a message of care from the Ribbono Shel Olam.
Hashem only speaks to those He is close to. As the Pasuk says in Tehillim (50:3), regarding tzaddikim who are close to Hashem, “Around Him, it storms mightily.” Those who are closest to Hashem, the tzaddikim, those who dwell in His inner circle, they experience the full force of His scrutiny, because they matter most to Him.
This is the ultimate expression of Hashem’s love and closeness.
When Hashem disciplines, it is not a mark of distance, but of profound love.
