The Sound of Silence: The Death of Aaron''s Sons
Torah Reflections on Parashat Shemini
Leviticus 9:1 - 11:47
22 Adar II 5768 March 29, 2008
When we greet a mourner during the shiva period, the seven days of mourning, we do
so in silence. We allow the mourner to initiate conversation if he or she so desires. In a
modern Western culture which perceives silence as awkward and tries to fill it with
constant conversation, this is a rare silent gesture meant to acknowledge deep pain and
honor the possibility that this death may be so wrenching words are insufficient. It also
gives us the opportunity to hear without the interjection of our own words, judgment, and
ideas.
In our Torah portion we read about the death of Aaron''s sons, Nadab and Abihu. Nadab
and Abihu offer an unauthorized sacrifice and they are consumed in a fire which issues
forth from "before God." The tragic account concludes with the brief note that "Aaron
was silent." His apparent lack of response to God''s harsh judgment may seem
surprising; and further we might be challenged by Midrash Rabbah''s commentary that
Aaron''s silence was rewarded with exclusive communication with God. We arguably
could understand Midrash Rabbah to mean that Aaron''s silent acceptance in the face of
horror was a sort of blind obedience required by a zealous God. The tradition, however,
suggests an understanding of Aaron''s silence as something which transcends
unquestioning obedience. Rabbi Nahman of Breslav reflects that silence is a higher
form of engagement with the world and can move us beyond more limiting forms of
communication and expression:
In youth, one learns to talk; in maturity, one learns to be silent. This is
man''s problem: that he learns to talk before he learns to be silent. Speech
signifies comprehensibilty. Melody is beyond language, expressing moods
which words cannot describe. Silence is yet higher.
As we accompany the mourner, or even as we seek to address loss in our own life,
Rabbi Nahman identifies here one hierarchy of engagement: speech - melody - silence.
This framework allows us to engage with others and with our experience at different
levels and in situationally appropriate ways. Aaron''s loss is profound. What words would
be sufficient? What songs could possibly be appropriate? In his silence, however, we
can read much.
Ecclesiastes tells us, in word and in verse structure, that birth is not judged better than
death and that speaking is not necessarily preferred to silence. Rather what we judge to
be good or bad may reflect our own individual and cultural biases, and that if we are
silent and listen we might gain a new understanding. In our most central prayer, for
example, we say "Shema Yisrael, Hear O'' Israel." We do not say "speak O'' Israel" or
even "sing O'' Israel." Silence and hearing are core values and do not necessarily just
denote obedience, but can suggest a call to understanding through silence''s own
capacious realm.
Herman Hess makes explicit in his Buddhist tale Siddartha two sentiments implicit in
Ecclesiastes. Hess explores what can be held in our consciousness about the world
through silence and listening. The protagonist''s moment of enlightenment echoes
Ecclesiastes’ suspension of judgment regarding human experience:
Siddartha listened. He was now nothing but a listener, completely concentrated on
listening…. Already, he could no longer tell the many voices apart, not the happy ones
from the weeping ones, not the ones of children from those of men, they all belonged
together, the lamentation of yearning and the laughter of the knowledgeable one, the
scream of rage and the moaning of the dying ones, everything was one, everything was
intertwined, and connected, entangled a thousand times. And everything together, all
vices, all goals, all yearning, all suffering, all pleasure, all that was good and evil, all of
this together was the world. All of it together was the flow of events, was the music of
life.
Herman Hess, Rabbi Nahman, and Ecclesiastes suggest silence and listening as
means through which additional levels of discernment can come to us and our
presuppositions may be re-examined. Aaron experiences direct divine communication
perhaps not because of unthinking obedience, but through the potential held by the
silence itself. In silence we can sometimes discover deeper meaning, or serve as an
accepting presence during a companion’s time of grief. In comprehending what silence
may hold for us, we might gain comfort using it to convey empathy and understanding,
or simply to honor the pain of loss.
? Bay Area Jewish Healing Center, Rabbi Jon Sommer
The Bay Area Jewish Healing Center provides Jewish spiritual care for people
coping with illness, loss and dying, regardless of affiliation or ability to pay.
Our services include:
? Rabbinic care, chaplaincy, counseling and spiritual direction—at home or in
hospitals, hospices, nursing homes or other care facilities
? Spiritual support groups for patients, caregivers, and the bereaved
? Healing and memorial services, and specialized rituals
Whether through prayer, study materials, or simply a listening presence, the Bay
Area Jewish Healing Center is here to support you during difficult times.
This Torah Reflection was written by Rabbi Jon Sommer of the Bay Area
Jewish Healing Center. It is brought to you by the Bay Area Jewish Healing
Center (a beneficiary of the Jewish Community Federation of San Francisco,
the Peninsula, Marin and Sonoma Counties), an affiliate of the Institute on
Aging.
3330 Geary Boulevard, 3
rd
Floor West, San Francisco, CA 94118 z (415) 750-4197 z www.jewishhealingcenter.org
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