The Day After Sinai: What the Tabernacle and Nadav and Avihu Teach About Holiness

The days between the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai and the building of the Tabernacle were the peak of Israel’s history. As the prophet said: “I remember for you the kindness of your youth, the love of your betrothal — when you followed Me in the wilderness, in a land not sown” (Yirmiyahu 2:2). The giving of the Torah was like a wedding canopy for the newborn nation. The love and closeness to God were so unique that later, in exile, Israel longed for that intimacy and cried out: “Let Him kiss me with the kisses of His mouth” (Shir HaShirim 1:2). Rashi explains: “This is what the congregation of Israel says in her exile and widowhood: Oh, that the King would kiss me again as He did before — mouth to mouth, like a groom to his bride.”

What happens after such a great wedding? The Midrash provides a parable: A king had an only daughter. Another king came and married her, taking her to his land. The father said: My daughter that I gave you is my only one. To part from her, I cannot. To tell you not to take her, I cannot either, for she is your wife. So please do me this favor: wherever you go, make me a small chamber that I may dwell near you, for I cannot leave my daughter. So too, said God to Israel: I have given you the Torah. To separate from it, I cannot. To tell you not to take it, I cannot. But wherever you go, make for Me a house so that I may dwell with you, as it is said: ‘And they shall make Me a sanctuary, and I shall dwell among them’ (Exodus 25:8).

This parable carries a deep lesson. What lies in the “day after” the greatest wedding in history? And why, one might ask, did God ask for a separate chamber close by, and not the very same room?

A Sobering Contrast

At the end of the Torah portion of Mishpatim, we read of one of the most painful tragedies in Jewish history: the decree against Nadav and Avihu. Their sentence was sealed but not yet carried out, so as not to mar the great joy of Sinai.

Nadav and Avihu, referred to in Torah as “the nobles of the children of Israel,” were second only to Moshe and Aaron, destined to inherit their leadership. Later they were called “Those near to Me, I will be sanctified” (Vayikra 10:3).

We, so far below them, cannot grasp their true level. But on the simple level of the verses, Rashi explains (Shemot 24:11): “And upon the nobles — these were Nadav, Avihu, and the elders. He did not stretch out His hand against them — implying they were worthy of punishment. They beheld God while eating and drinking, gazing upon Him with arrogance.”

Why were they eating and drinking? Ramban explains that they made it into a celebration, a festival of joy for receiving the Torah, which is indeed fitting. Yet Rashi refers to their behavior as “gazing with arrogance”. Here lies a profound secret.

The Jewish View of Intimacy and Boundaries

There are two different worldviews regarding building a home between husband and wife. The “enlightened” secular view promotes absolute openness without boundaries. Judaism, however, sees marriage as holy and sublime — so sacred that the upper worlds themselves depend on it. At the same time, it celebrates modesty, dignity, and tact, even between husband and wife.

The Talmud (Shabbat 140b) tells of Rav Chisda advising his daughters before marriage to be careful in the way they present themselves, avoid unwise habits or careless openness that might diminish their grace in the eyes of their husbands. His guidance was not about strangers, but about their own husbands — men of towering holiness such as Rabbah and Rami bar Chama. The lesson is that even with one’s beloved spouse, wisdom and refinement must guide the relationship. Love is elevated by dignity.

Thus, love without restraint or dignity can slip into arrogance. Even when “everything is permitted,” there is still a way to act with respect.

Learning from Nadav and Avihu

From this perspective, we can get a glimpse of what happened with Nadav and Avihu. Their greatness was so exalted that at the very pinnacle of holiness, they forgot the subtle line of reverence. Like a beloved guest who feels so at home that he carelessly puts his muddy shoes on the host’s couch, without meaning disrespect, but missing the awareness due in that moment.

Even in the greatest intimacy, one must not be careless.

The Message for Us

It is hard to compare ourselves to such lofty souls, but the lesson is clear that we are God’s beloved children. We study His Torah, strive to do His will, and rejoice in His closeness. At the same time, let us not forget the need for sensitivity, respect, and reverence.

In the House of God, we must act with feeling, honor one another, and notice those who are “invisible.” Then we will truly be worthy of His love.

As the Torah promises: “And I shall dwell among them” (Shemot 25:8) — within each and every one of us. The Divine Presence is here, inside us and between us. That is great love, but it obliges us in great respect.