A wise person once told me: When do your children know that you really love them? Not when they’re compliant, but when they’re defiant.

Boom.

He couldn’t be more right. As difficult as it is to show love to a child going off the rails, it’s so, so true.

Why?

Because until you prove that your love isn’t contingent on what they do, how can they ever know that your love is truly unconditional? Those moments of defiance are a good time to let them know.

A Sin to Perceive G‑d?

Parshat Acharei begins:

And G‑d spoke to Moses after the death of Aaron's two sons, when they drew near before G‑d, and they died.1

The two sons referred to are Nadab and Abihu. What happened to them?

We read about it a few weeks ago, in Shemini:2 These two aspiring religionists offered a foreign incense to G‑d and were killed in the Holy of Holies.

But it turns out that their sin was really even older than that. Back in Exodus, right after the Torah was given, we read:

And Moses and Aaron, Nadab and Abihu, and seventy of the elders of Israel ascended . . . And they perceived the G‑d of Israel . . . and they ate and drank.3

According to Rashi,4 the grave sin of eating and drinking while “perceiving G‑d” already earned Nadab and Abihu the death penalty. G‑d didn’t want to disrupt the joy of the giving of the Torah, so He held off until later when they committed another infraction.

Now, according to the translation of Onkelos, the words, “and they ate and drank,” mean that Nadab and Abihu perceived G‑d like one who eats and drinks. In this rendering, Nadab and Abihu didn’t eat at all, rather they were ecstatic to be in G‑d’s presence like one who's happy when eating a hearty meal. For them, the spiritual experience was as satisfying as a steak dinner.

This explanation seems to exonerate Nadab and Abihu of any misdeed. Why, then, were they killed? What did they do wrong? How could enjoying such closeness with G‑d warrant a death sentence?

No Mastery

One who enjoys “perceiving G‑d” the same way they would enjoy a steak dinner really misses the point. So much so, that for holy people like Nadab and Abihu it warrants the death penalty.

To explain, here’s a profound truth about religion: You can never truly master it. In fact, it’s impossible to reach “the end.” There is no summit you can arrive at and say, “Ah, now I get it. Now I understand religion, G‑d, and all this spiritual stuff. Now it all makes sense; I’m convinced!” That’s not the way it works.

Rather, we are forced to concede reason and declare that we’ll never truly understand. Why? Because it’s about connecting with G‑d, and G‑d is ultimately endless. Of course, there are parts that do make sense, but those elements do not capture the true depth and beauty of what Judaism has to offer.

To truly connect with G‑d on a deep level, no amount of reason will get you there. It is precisely at that point beyond intellect, the point at which the scholar throws up his or her hands and says, “I don’t understand,” that a true relationship with G‑d is born.

No Explanations Necessary

By way of illustration: Imagine you approach someone and ask them, “What’s your favorite color?” Some may answer blue, others green, and still others red. When pressed to explain why that’s their favorite color, some may have explanations, but others will not. “Why do I like yellow? I don’t know; I just do.”

Now, would you suggest that the person without a good explanation doesn’t really like yellow? Or that they don’t like yellow as much as the person who’s able to explain their love for green?

The intuitive position is this: if you can explain it, it’s not so deep. The less explanation you can provide proves just how much a part of you it really is. “I like yellow because I do. That’s it.” That’s a much stronger and deeper connection to yellow than your sophisticated counterpart with elaborate explanations for the beauty of green.

Ask any parent, “Why do you love your child?” If they have to start mustering explanations about how sweet and wonderful they are, something is amiss. A parent doesn’t need to explain their love for their child, because it’s a core part of who they are. Of course, there are some explanations, but the truest, deepest expression of the parent’s love is precisely when it cannot be explained.

This is most visibly demonstrated in those sad instances when there really isn’t any demonstrable reason for love, when a child causes their parents anguish and grief. Why, then, do the parents still love that child? Because it’s a part of who they are, a love etched deep in their souls.

And so it is when it comes to our relationship with the Divine. There are those elements that G‑d has made available to us in a more accessible way. These are the parts of religion that we understand and appreciate, which allow us to create an “explainable” and “reasonable” relationship with our Creator.

But then there’s G‑d’s true essence that is far beyond all reason. The only way to connect with this dimension is like the parent who declares their love for a defiant child: by tapping deep into their very core.

That’s the beauty and function of faith. Pure, unadulterated faith defies all reason and remains ironclad even in the face of madness. And that's the ticket to a true connection with that deeper level of G‑d that neither contains nor requires explanation.

Religion isn’t Sushi

This, then, was the grave problem with Nadab and Abihu being “overjoyed that their offering was accepted as if they were eating and drinking.” The hallmark feature of true spiritual pursuit is a constant thirst to learn more. The more we understand, the higher and deeper we wish to climb, recognizing that an appetite for true Divine connection can never actually be satisfied.

When eating sushi or a hamburger, you eventually reach a point when you can no longer eat. But Judaism isn’t sushi.

So, by enjoying their connection with G‑d as a regular eating experience, Nadab and Abihu demonstrated an acute misappropriation of what Judaism is all about. Their connection with G‑d was not one of pure faith, rather of intellectual joy. That was tantamount to heresy, for it denies G‑d’s infinity—the acknowledgement that G‑d is more than a human can ever grasp.

Get Real

Faith. That’s the name of the game. Even when it doesn’t make sense. In fact, especially when it doesn’t make sense. That’s when you get to feel just how deep your connection really is.

So, if things are rough and you don’t have any answers, don’t be discouraged and turn your back on it all. It’s at times like these that you can tap into the deepest parts of yourself and authenticate everything you’ve heard, learned, and practiced.

Does it make sense? Nope.

Does that mean it’s ridiculous?

Well, if loving a defiant child isn’t ridiculous, neither is this.5