Silence in the Face of Horror
This Dvar Torah was adapted from one written by Rabbi Leah Richman, CAJE’s past Director of Adult Learning.
Photo by Jason Blackeye on Unsplash
In this week's Parashat Shemini, we find that "Nadav and Avihu, two of the sons of Aharon (Aaron), each took his fire pan . . . and brought before G!D an alien fire . . . A fire [from heaven] came forth… and consumed them, and they died . . . And Moshe/Moses said to Aaron: Of this did G!d speak, saying, I will be sanctified through those who are nearest Me . . . and Aharon was silent" (Lev. 10:1-3).
Many commentators have focused on trying to discern the mysterious reason for the death of Nadav and Avihu, since it is not clear what "alien fire" is or why it merited a death sentence for the two brothers.
There is another mysterious aspect to this story, however, and it's Aharon's silence. We expect to hear Aharon respond in some way -- whether it be in mourning, anger, or even acceptance. Yet, he remains silent.
Sometimes, silence is the only way to respond to events in our lives.
This coming Sunday, many of my CAJE and community colleagues will depart on the Leo Martin March of the Living to observe Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day.
On Yom HaShoah, they will walk from Auschwitz to the death camp of Birkenau, in what used to be known as the March of Death.
By renaming this 3-kilometer path the March of the Living, we Jews proclaim to the world “Am Yisrael Chai / The People of Israel Still Lives!”
The Nazis and their collaborators, aided by fearful or indifferent bystanders, tried to erase us from the earth and here we are demonstrating the commitment of the living to strengthen our Jewish mission within ourselves and within the world and remember those who were murdered.
I have participated in the March of the Living four times as a CAJE staff member, and I can truly say that it was one of the most deeply impactful experiences of my life.
The Shoah is a part of our history that often impels us to speak out loudly against antisemitism, hate, and genocide wherever it lives.
And it is also a part of our history that sometimes inspires silence as we contemplate the horrors that humankind is capable of inflicting on itself and the tragedies members of our community have endured.
There is a custom when visiting a shiva house, or a house of mourning, to remain silent until the mourner begins the conversation.
Why? Because sometimes the mourner might not want to speak, but instead remain silent for whatever reason.
Everyone is different and mourns in their own way. Some people have a need to process their memories verbally and to speak about their emotional pain. Others feel that no words could possibly express the depth of what they are feeling, and therefore, silence is the most respectful response.
Perhaps Aharon was one of those people who finds silence the best way to respond to his pain.
Or perhaps, as many of our rabbis have suggested, he was comforted by Moshe (Moses) or he accepted G-d's decision to take his sons' lives due to his deep faith.
We will never know.
What we do know, however, is that Aharon's silence can be a holy and valid choice for us too in the face of life's mysteries and tragedies.
Silence when we are confronted by unspeakable horror and shock is a valid response. It is important not to judge each other's ways of coping and responding to life's events.
As the psychologists and mental health counselors on our March of the Living staff tell the participants numerous times throughout our journey -- there is no one way to process emotions or events.
Perhaps this is why we Jews have so many personalities in the Torah, Rabbinic Literature and modern times to learn from -- to teach us different ways of being and different models for living.
As Yom HaShoah approaches, I invite you to remember that as we mourn together as a community, we also mourn as individuals each in our own way. Some of us will speak, write poetry, or create art. Others of us will remain silent, and be some of the blank space between the lines or the negative space within a busy design.
Nonetheless, we are all part of one beautiful tapestry that makes up the Jewish community's response to our history.
May we all be a living testament to those who perished in the Shoah, and may their memories be a blessing forever.
Shabbat Shalom!
