Modern take on Biblical story in Zwerin novel

PASSOVER EDITION 
SECTION C PAGE 14

HOW does the biblical account of Nadav and Abihu, the ill-fated sons of Aaron the High Priest, relate to Nate and Avi, fictional Jewish brothers scrambling to survive in Holocaust-era Yugoslavia?

Jump into Ray Zwerin’s novel Holy Fire — a fascinating juxtaposition of time and circumstance — to discover the answer.

Zwerin, Temple Sinai’s rabbi emeritus, is the co-leader of the synagogue’s long running Torah study group, where nothing escapes examination, speculation or a direct challenge.

This applies to Leviticus 10, in which Nadav and Abihu anger G-d for offering a “strange fire . . . which G-d had not commanded of them.

“And a fire went out . . . and consumed them.”

Dissatisfied with traditional explanations — for example, that the brothers were drunk — Zwerin develops a penetrating tale that reads like a modern mystery to explore alternative possibilities.

Nachshon is the brother of Aaron’s wife Elisheva.

Devastated by the death of her sons, Elisheva begs Nachshon — the first person who dove into the Sea of Reeds before the waters parted — to lead an informal investigation.

Curious to a fault, this natural detective also serves as a crucial literary device, for the reader observes every nuance, contradictory fact and suggestive omission through his wise eyes.

As the story progresses, characters ranging from Moses to the vocal, perennially doubting mob all weigh in with evidence and opinions about Aaron’s sons.

The historical setting, customs, language and biblical relationships are faithfully reproduced.

Nachshon’s stealthy sleuthing into the enigmatic cause of the two priests’ demise would make a great novel unto itself.

But Zwerin wasn’t finished.

RIKKI Zwerin, the rabbi’s wife, is a child survivor of the Holocaust. Utilizing her chaotic childhood in Yugoslavia as the foundation, Zwerin crafted a second story loosely built around her tumultuous experiences in Sarajevo, Italy and Palestine.

Nate, who narrates this part of the novel, and his younger brother Avi grow up in the arms of a large Sephardic family in Sarajevo. The familial love is palpable.

By the 1930s, ominous signs leave little doubt about the Nazi’s intentions in Yugoslavia and the rest of Europe. Just as Nate’s parents finally decide to leave their homeland, cruel fate intervenes. Nate and Avi find themselves totally alone.

Confused and frightened, little Avi innocently asks Nate, “Will you take care of me?”’

“My heart stopped,” Nate says. Will I take care of my brother? Can I take care of myself yet? What does it mean to be responsible for another person?” Nate would find out soon enough.

After fighting with the partisans in Montenegro and Bosnia, the brothers book passage to Palestine, where they fight in Israel’s War of Independence and have families of their own.

Passover plays a subtle role throughout the novel. In the Nadav-Abihu section, the Israelites’ exodus from Egypt starts the contextual ball rolling.

After their parents are arrested, Nate and Avi celebrate Passover with non-Jewish neighbors. Zuran Buric, the host, opens the door for Elijah but instead catches sight of the brutal Ushtashe police.

He turns to his family and declares, “Tonight I have experienced leaving Egypt. I have joined with my neighbors in telling the story of the Exodus. I have hidden from the Nazis. I have experienced persecution.

“ ‘Tonight, my dear young friends and family, I, too, have become a Jew!”

Reliving Passover is central to Judaism because “it ultimately defines what makes us Jews,” Zwerin says.

The Torah is fond of reiterating themes: parents favoring one child over another; sibling rivalry and responsibility.

Certain relationships appear again and again like a refrain you can’t get out of your head.

The subject of brothers dominates Holy Fire, albeit in reverse order. Nadav and Abihu are dead. It is their parents who are left behind to mourn and wonder.

Conversely, Nate and Avi grieve their parents’ premature deaths and try to make sense of out the senseless.

“Both are parallels,” Zwerin says. “They are opposite parallels, but parallels nonetheless.”

Similarly, both stories conclude in tents: Nadav and Abihu’s in Aaron’s tent, and Nate and Avi’s in the Tent of Remembrance at Yad Vashem.

While Zwerin’s decision to combine two ostensibly disparate circumstances and characters into one narrative might initially confuse the reader, keep reading.

But beware.

Just when you’re confident that you have solved the puzzle of Nadav and Abihu’s behavior in the Tabernacle and deduced the conclusion of Nate and Avi’s storyline, think again. In the world according to Zwerin, revelation hits like a tidal wave, and redemptive fire burns with the strangest embers.

Copyright © 2012 by the Intermountain Jewish News