It wasn’t in a hospital.

It wasn’t at a funeral.

It was in the eyes of a man sitting across from me—eyes that once danced with life, now staring past me into nothingness.

He had tasted something so high, so intoxicatingly Divine, that he forgot how to come back.

That’s the danger of spiritual fire. It doesn’t just warm.
It can consume.

The Day Two Giants Disappeared

“After the death of Aharon’s two sons, when they drew near before G-d, and they died.” (Vayikra 16:1)

Why the repetition?

Why tell us after they died… that they died?

Because their death wasn’t just something that happened.
It was the very act of drawing close.

They didn’t die because they sinned.
They died from the way they connected.

Nadav and Avihu were on fire.
Young, pure, burning with longing to unite with their Creator.
But instead of channeling that fire through life… they flew straight into the flame.

The Sin of Too Much Heaven

Chassidus lifts the veil on this tragedy:

These weren’t reckless kids ignoring Temple rules.
They were holy men who couldn’t handle how much they loved G-d.

And that’s where they fell.

Not in running away from the mission.
But in wanting to transcend it altogether.

They didn’t marry.
They didn’t raise children.
They didn’t even wear the priestly garments—the mitzvot that wrap the soul in Divine purpose.

They weren’t trying to build holiness in the world.

They were trying to escape it.

But That’s Not Why We’re Here

If I could, I would stand on top of Mount Meron and scream this to every soul searching for truth:

Spirituality is not about disappearing.

G-d doesn’t want you to vanish in meditation, to dissolve into some ethereal bliss and leave the world behind.

He wants you to build Him a home.
Here. In this dirt. In this chaos. In your marriage. In your job. In your parenting. In your pain.

That’s why He sent your soul down here in the first place.

Not to rise endlessly upward…
But to bring heaven down.

The Holiest Thing You Can Do

It’s not your yearning that makes you holy.
It’s what you do with it.

Every time you kiss a mezuzah, you’re building G-d’s home.
Every time you forgive your spouse, you’re laying brickwork for the Shechinah.
Every time you sit down with your child instead of escaping into your phone—
You are sanctifying a piece of the world.

Don’t burn upward.
Burn forward.

Real Life SoulWork

Let’s bring it home:

1. Feel it? Anchor it.
This week, when you feel that spiritual pull—a deep davening, a flash of insight—pause and ask: What action can I take to ground this moment?

2. Pick one mitzvah, do it big.
Not for reward. Not out of guilt. Do it because your soul is begging to express what words can’t.

3. Embrace the mess.
Holiness isn’t clean. It’s diapers, deadlines, and doing the dishes with joy. That’s your sanctuary.