Parshas Shemini
Adar 2 5768
March 29, 2008
Daf Yomi: Nazir 9
Guest Author:
Rabbi Moshe Taub
Young Israel of Greater Buffalo, NY
The Sound of Silence:
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, famed Spanish novelist and author of “Don Quixote”, lay on his death bed surrounded by family and close admirers. What will this “man of words”, this artist and playwright, choose to say to close his remarkable life, they surely wondered. His eyes darting wildly around the room, and, in a show of sheer panic and almost pathetic pining, he is said to have remarked, “I can not go into the night silently! Tell them I said something!”
We all want to have just the right words, articulated succinctly, at all the right moments. Conversely, silence, has become a forgotten art. Although we are all familiar with the statements of Chazal and works of Mussar which speak at great length about the virtues of silence, it may sometimes, ironically, cause us to only talk about this truism. As Elie Weisel so wonderfully put it, “Yes, Judaism has secrets…we just don’t talk about them.” Silence, or Shetikah, may very well not be the demonstration of what is not known or the humility to admit ignorance; rather it is an action, a verb, a suppression of some kind.
In this week’s Parshah we are told of the demise of Nadav and Avihu. Their father, Aaron, had a reaction to this event that has perplexed scholars for centuries: " "...וידם אהרן… - “…and Aaron was silent…”. The questions are many: why the term Vayidom, as opposed to Vayacharish or Vayishtok?; in what way was his silence shown, for, surly he mourned and eulogized his own children, and, not being talkative otherwise is certainly to be expected; What words were anticipated that ultimately were not uttered?
One may be tempted to suggest that Aaron was at a loss for words after his horrific loss. However, Rashi (s.v. VaYidom) quickly reminds us that there was something unique, nay, exemplarily, about this silence of Aaron that merited reward. What was unique about his silence however, seems to remain a mystery.
Ramban, in a brief comment on this verse, gives two possible interpretations, both of which change entirely how this episode may have transpired. “For {Aaron} cried out loudly after which he was silent, or, {Vayidom} has the same meaning as in Eichah 2:18, to be still.”
Perhaps Ramban is not teaching two possible explanations to this event rather illuminating and then expanding on one idea.
Aaron’s silence was not representative of his having nothing to say. On the contrary, it represents his holding back. Indeed, in a fascinating, if not spectacular Midrash, the Rabbis teach us what Aaron’s grief could have brought him to say as well as the “questions” he could have, or may have, been tempted to ask the A-mighty: “What could he have said (to G-d)? ‘Does it not say…’”(see Shallal Rav pg 104 where this Midrash is discussed at length).
Instead, in a remarkable expression of faith, Aaron became still, passive, inanimate –Domeim – and, perhaps, it is for this reason that Rashi (cited above) comments on these words first –out of order with the written verse – so as to illustrate that Aaron’s ultimate silence in the face of what he began to articulate eclipsed his original human reaction.
Did he have questions? Certainly! Did he wonder why he, a righteous man, had to suffer to such degree? How odd that we need to remind ourselves of the humanity of our leaders. For, after all, is not that what makes them great? If there is no doubt, no questions, then can there even be “Faith”?
In 1909, Erev Shabbos Parshas Zachor, a man came with his daughter to the Chafetz Chaim. His daughter, he felt, was “possessed” and the Chafetz Chaim agreed. So began one of the greatest and most legendary stories of a Dybbuk in Jewish lore. The next many hours are shrouded in mystery. Although many reports have been given (Reb Elchonon would speak about it every year Parshas Zachor), they vary. The Dybbuk was asked about the world we live in, the Chafetz Chaim, as well as the impenetrable mysteries of the next world. Finally, after the directive of the Chafetz Chaim, the Dybbuk left the girl’s body. Everything that was told to Reb Elchonon prior- from the soul of the Dybbuk leaving through the girl’s pinky finger to the crack that would be formed in the window in its departure – happened.
Years later, Reb Elchonon would say; “My entire life I worked on Emunah/Faith, it was one thing I was sure that I would get Zchar for after 120. Now, after what I saw, it went from אמונה פשוטה to ידיעה בעלמא (it became fact not faith. What will be with my Zchar, this loss of the challenge?! ”
In the spotlight of life, in the shadow of death, we may fear but we do not “Yira Rah-fear evil” for we understand the bad and evil can not stem from the Heavenly throne. Hence, sometimes, we must demonstrate our acceptance of the impenetrable through silence.
The Baal Shem Tov, after being informed about the illness of a student, turned his head to the heavens and exclaimed, “Aibeshter, Zug Mir Nisht Far Vuss, Nor Zug Mer Iz Du A Far Vuss” – “G-d, you need not tell me why (this has happened), just let me know that there is a Why.
The opposite of Faith is not doubt, it is certainty.
It is fascinating that blood is the only necessary component of life one need not do anything for. We must breathe to get oxygen, eat to get nourishment etc, but blood just flows on its own into the pumping heart.
Perhaps the Hebrew word for דם /blood shares its root with both דומם /inanimate and וידם /silence of our verse; sometimes we need not move, do or say anything to make our conviction known.
The hardest moment for the person of faith is when they know there is nothing more they can do, that they can only now sit and wait for G-d to act or not to act. This is what we were told to do by our first mass exodus: after the Dam Milah was spilled and the Dam HaPesach was poured on our doorways, we were Dam – still, trusting that now that we have done our part G-d will certainly do His.
May the conviction of our actions, coupled with the courage of our silence, herald a new Exodus and a new day.
For the sake of full disclosure, although I heard this version years ago, I did research to its validity for this Drashah and found an interesting version: It was Reb Elchonon’s Talmid, Rabbi Shlomo Elimelech Drillman, who always wanted to ask his Rebbe if he had lost his Bechiras Chafshi after said incident, see http://www.teaneckshuls.org/parsha/pdf/Shmos/TetzavePurim64.pdf.
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