(Chava Alberstein sings “Each Person Has a Name,” based on the famous poem by Zelda.)
Every family has secrets. Revealing them can be risky, but it can also provide relief. Fear and shame often keep us quiet, and compel us to edit the reality of our familial lives. As readers of the Hebrew Bible — a story that is ultimately about family dynamics — we are always “in: on the secrets, and can observe when the hidden is ultimately revealed.
When reading this week’s Torah portion, I thought a lot about what it means to tell hard stories that we’d prefer to edit out of existence. Even though the full story of Nadav and Avihu (Aaron’s sons who were killed because they offered “strange fire” before God) is detailed in the Book of Leviticus, it is referenced again in this week’s portion. Why? Wouldn’t we rather forget? Or in honor of their memory, couldn’t we have included their names without rehashing their transgression?
In this week’s portion, the Author of the Bible chooses to provide a full lineage of the Jewish people. Nadav and Avihu are not erased — they are included and remembered. However, they are remembered in the context of their sin, and that too is included in our collective origin story. In this respect, the Torah is committed to a certain kind of honesty that is difficult but is also instructive.
In particular, I think about families that obscure the membership of those who have died in ways that traditionally cause shame: suicide, substance abuse, and crime. No matter how much we try and change the discourse around these issues, shame still remains a central part of the grieving experience, and often compounds the pain of loss.
When Aaron receives the news of Nadav and Avihu’s death, his response is an immediate silence. For too many of us, we respond to the mixture of grief and shame with disassociation and hiding. It is an understandable, human reaction to this complex of emotions. However, we do know that long-term hiding leads to increased depression and suffering for survivors. Self-disclosure, by contrast, brings relief and a healthier path forward.
We don’t know for certain if Aaron ever discussed his loss with others in his community after the initial shock had passed. However, irrespective of Aaron’s personal choice, the Torah recalls their memory publicly for all eternity. Members of our family cannot be disappeared in the eyes of God, regardless of the nature of their shortcomings.
This week, let us reflect on the deeper message of the Bible’s censuses, which at first blush, can seem boring and irrelevant. However, on a deeper level we are being taught something crucial: everyone needs to be counted and remembered by name. Yes: shame and confusion are normal parts of life and loss, and all of us are inclined to cut off and forget the people, places, and experiences that cause us pain and shame. That said, healthy and holy communities make space for a full accounting, and for the kinds of disclosure that lead to personal and familial healing.
As we approach Shavuot, we approach the conclusion of Counting the Omer. With this ritual, we recall the importance of each day on our journey to revelation at Mount Sinai. On this Shabbat, let us not only remember to number our days, but also to keep counting every member of our community — eye to eye, face to face, and known by name.
Shabbat Shalom and Chag Matan Torah Sameach! (Happy Shavuot — the holiday where we celebrate the Giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai)