Leviticus 9:1-11:47
II Samuel 6:1-7:17
In our portion from Leviticus we read, “Then Moses said unto Aaron, this is what the Lord spoke saying, through them that are near unto Me will I be sanctified, and before all the people I will be glorified, and Aaron held his peace.”
The Tzartkover Rebbe often stood in silence instead of preaching. When asked why, he replied to his disciples, “There are 70 ways of reciting the Torah. One of them is through silence.”
We humans fill the universe with words. It is through speech that we most closely imitate God, Who created the world through words. And yet speech is not always appropriate.
In this week’s portion, Aaron experienced the sudden tragic death of his two oldest sons. On the eighth day of their inauguration into the priesthood, they brought a strange fire before God and were suddenly killed.
Moses tried to comfort his brother: “This is what the Lord spoke saying, through those near to me will I be sanctified.” Aaron heard the words but did not react. All he could do was be silent. Moses tried to help with words, but Aaron did not need words at that point. Sometimes the proper reaction to tragedy is silence.
In the book of Job, the main character experienced a number of grievous losses. His wife told Job, “Curse God and die,” but Job replied, “Should we accept only good and not evil?” His three friends came to comfort him. But they sat in silence next to him for seven days, waiting for Job to speak first. From this, we learn that Jewish tradition when visiting a shiva home (a house of mourning) is for visitors to remain silent until the mourners speak.
Job called on God to appear before him and justify God’s actions. God appears before Job and says, “Where were you when I laid the Earth’s foundations? Speak if you have understanding.” Job listened to God’s words, and in the end said, “Indeed I spoke without understanding, of things beyond me, which I did not know.”
Job spoke, when silence would have been appropriate.
Every family has known some form of tragedy, and the often-violent world we live in gives us terrible examples of this every day. I cannot help but believe that sometimes silence is wiser in the face of tragedy. Like Job, we humans cannot understand the ways of God. When sadness hits, it is not the time to discuss theology. Words about God’s justice are scant comfort to the bereaved and the injured. Moses’ words were scant comfort to his brother Aaron following his tragic loss.
Rabbi Nancy Weiner notes that later in the same chapter in Leviticus it says, “And when Moses heard . . .” All of a sudden, the man who has been giving orders, speaking and directing the actions of others, is now silent. Moses is listening: listening to his brother, listening to his brother’s experience and to his brother’s perspective. And through this act of listening — really listening — Moses understands that his assumptions were incorrect. By listening, Moses is able to move from a position of harsh judgment to one of understanding and accepting his brother’s choices.
Listening, really listening, is a truly demanding and complex activity which offers opportunity for growth.
When we truly listen to someone, when we hear not only the words, but also their importance to the speaker on an emotional level, we are transformed. By reflecting on another’s words, we come face-to-face with who we are, and the assumptions and judgments we bring with us.
And like Moses, when we listen, we find that, in the end, it is we who change. It is we who benefit from the opportunity to see anew someone whom we have judged in the past. It is we who can move so that others and their actions can “rise in our estimation” and “find favor” in our eyes.
There is a time to speak and a time for silence. There are too many words in the world. Perhaps we need a little more silence in the face of the many questions we have doubts about how to answer.
Rabbi Larry Raphael is the senior rabbi of Congregation Sherith Israel in San Francisco.