Friday, March 21, 2014

Parashat Sh’mini - Hearing Silence

Parashat Sh’mini - Hearing Silence
In Memory of Elissa Froman, z'l
April 5, 2013 ~ 26 Nissan 5773
Rabbi Jen Gubitz
Source texts drawn from Nehama Leibowitz’s New Studies in Vayikra

There was a hush in the room.
What to say?
What not to say?
Amid the silence,
memories, stories, feelings came alive.
And though she was no longer,
and we were speechless,
there was so much to say,
and yet no one spoke.
But the silence
as it often does
said more
than words ever could.  

In the beginning
and in the end,
we listen -
for a sign of breath,
for a sign of life...
In the last breath,
and before the first breath -
we listen into the silence.
Silence is technically
the complete absence of sound.
But living, we know,
breathing
is quite noisy.
And so actually
is silence.
We listen,
we hear
even in the deafening quiet.
**

In this week's Torah portion,
Sh'mini,
Vayidom Aharon
And Aaron was silent.
His sons,
Nadav and Avihu
are consumed by a fire from God.
Moses,
his beloved older brother,
appears to try to console
and make meaning of Aaron's loss.
Vayidom Aharon.
But Aaron was silent.
What is one to make of his silence?
Why is he not screaming out with grief?
His life has literally gone up in flames.

Silence is technically
the complete absence of sound.
But we can hear
Aaron's silence across the generations.
We can hear even
in his deafening quiet.
We know
as daily live-rs
that Aaron's silence
in this moment of extreme loss
is in fact the noisiest sound of living.

Vayidom Aharon       
And Aaron was silent.
Very simply stated,
but our commentators
could not accept his silence either.
They, too, sought
to listen for a deeper meaning.

Vayidom Aharon -
Rashi amends the sentence to read:
And Aaron was silent and did not complain
and consequently
he was rewarded for his silence.
Rashi implies that
Aaron understood within his loss
divine judgment.
Vayidom Aharon
And Aaron was silent and did not complain.

Building on Rashi’s Commentary,
the 19th Century
Polish commentary,
Shem Olam -
points to an understanding of silence
based on word choice:
“Scripture chose vayidom
rather than vayishtok...
a synonym for silence,
we know vayishtok
from trying to quiet a room with Sheket B’vakasha!
“The latter,” he writes,
“signifies the abstention from speaking,
weeping, moaning
or any other outward manifestation...
The verb domem however,
connotes inner peace and calm...
Accordingly
Scripture describes the saintly Aaron
as vayidom and not merely as vayishtok,
thus emphasizing that his heart and soul
were at peace within,
that rather than questioning
the standards of God,
he justified the Divine verdict.”

Rolling back centuries,
Vayidom Aharon -
Rambam reads this to mean:
And Aaron became silent.
He writes,
This means that he had cried aloud,
and then he became silent.
It is not the silence of acceptance
that Rashi or Shem Olam describe;
but a silence of struggle.
It is a silence that attempts to understand
the mysteries of God
the mysteries of life.

Vayidom Aharon:
Abravanel,
15th century Portuguese scholar,
riffs on Vayidom -
when Aaron was silent -
“that his heart turned Vayidom -
k’domem
to lifeless mineral stone
and he did not weep
and mourn like a bereaved father,
nor did he accept Moses' consolation”
for he had no more strength,
his soul had left him
and he was speechless.

Or perhaps a final interpretation:
the 18th century Hakorem teaches,
that Aaron was intentional about his silence,
suppressing his grief and weeping,
in order to show publicly
his acceptance of Divine Judgement -
Aaron knew his public role modeled behavior
and he wanted to keep the Israelites
on the track of accepting
all that God had to offer
while maintaining his authority and authenticity.
But he goes back to work
too soon after his grievous loss
and fails to accurately carry out
the sin-offering sacrifice
required of Priests.
11th century Rashbam
creates this conversation
between Aaron and Moses:
"Would it be pleasing
in the sight of God
for me to partake
of the offering in joy
while my heart is full of grief and sorrow?"
Aaron asks.
Hakorem and Rashbam
depict an Aaron
who has great depth,
and deep humanity -
They suggests two sides of Aaron -
the public and private Aaron -
the Aaron he showed the masses,
and the Aaron whose inner being
he kept private
but for his inner circle and God.

Vayidom Aharon:
the Torah teaches that
Aaron was silent;
he did not complain;
his inner being was quiet;
he cried aloud,
then he became silent;
he struggled;
his heart was like a stone
his soul left him
he was speechless.
He was intentional
he was self aware.  
So many component parts
of Aaron’s being.

Some of these commentaries
feel truer
or more real
to our own life experience
than others -
and who are we really to ask
What Aaron’s silence meant?

Whether it was
speechlessness,
stillness or submission
or all of them...
or none of them...
We stand witness
to what our leader Aaron
chose to offer us in that moment...

That is what it means
to fully bear witness
to another’s grief.
That is why
when we enter a house of mourning -
we say nothing
until the mourner speaks.
They get to choose
in that moment
what that moment of interaction
will look like.  
We are entitled
to the most public displays of grief,
renting our clothes, wailing in despair;
and we are also entitled
to a most private experience.  
And the silence
that might hover
between the mourner and ourselves
could feel uncomfortable,
awkward,
endless -
and we might want to fill it
as did Moses,
with words of consolation
or meaning making,
but this is that time to be silent
that Proverbs speaks of.

We are to wait...
and we are to sustain the silence,
and be silently present in the silence,
until by the mourner,
the silence is broken.

Only one other being
can break that silence.
After Nadav and Avihu’s death,
after a lengthy break in communication,
finally
V’yadaber Adonai el Aharon L’aymor
God speaks to Aaron.  
God gets to break the silence.
**

While silence may be
the complete absence of sound.
We know that living
is quite noisy.
And so actually
is silence.
We can listen,
we can hear,
we can be,
we can comfort
even
in the deafening quiet.

*
There was a hush in the room that day.
What to say?
What not to say?
Amid the silence,
memories, stories, feelings came alive.
And though she was no longer,
and we were speechless,
there was so much to say,
and yet no one spoke.
But the silence
as it often does
said more
than words ever could.