And The Seeds That Were Silent All Burst Into Bloom And Decay (Robert Hunter & Jerry Garcia - "Eyes Of The World")

          With the conclusion of Passover and the return of our house to normal, I find myself constantly referring to the Jewish Calendar.  Besides counting the Omer every evening since the second night of Pesach, I start checking the calendar because a new Jewish month begins shortly. I check the calendar because this week the Jewish people commemorated Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Memorial Day. Next week, Israel will observe Yom HaZikaron (Memorial Day) and Yom Ha’Atzmaut (Independence Day). I recently conducted a funeral for a Holocaust survivor. The woman died alone. She had no surviving family members. She never married, never had children. She lived with her sister and when the sister passed away she went into an old age home. The lawyer who looked after her estate explained this to me. Normally, I would meet with the family and ask all kinds of questions in order to get to know the story and the life of the deceased. The silence occurs after the family has shared numerous details about the life of their loved one and that silence is the silence of quiet peaceful pleasant memory. For the funeral of this Holocaust survivor, there was only the silence of an elderly woman’s life and an even more resounding silence in her death. There was no one to tell me about her life nor her death. Rather there was only silence.

          This morning we read from Parsha Shemini. The Parsha is comprised of chapters 9,10, and 11 of Sefer Vayikra. In the first chapter of the Parsha, Aaron has now been separated from the camp, and the people for 7 days. He has now become spiritually pure to make offerings on behalf of the people to God. He now makes the first public offering on behalf of the people and God accepts it. The second chapter is a narrative that tells us about Aaron’s two eldest sons, Nadav and Avihu. They want to approach godlike their father did, however, they are not spiritually ready. They offer “strange fire”, and are immediately killed.  Moshe instructs Aaron and his two surviving sons about the appropriate behavior that is necessary when making offerings on behalf of the people. The third chapter of the Parsha discusses all the animals that are permitted and prohibited under the laws of Kashrut.

        Upon the death of Nadav and Avihu, Moshe has to tell his brother Aaron of his son’s death.  Vayomer Moshe El Aharon Hu Asher Diber Adoshem Leimor Bikrovai Ekadesh V’Al P’nei Chol Ha’Am Ekaveid – Moshe said to Aaron: “Of this did God speak, I will be sanctified through those who are closest to me, thus I will be honored by this entire people.” (Lev. 10:3) In as touching and humane a manner as one will ever read, Moshe tells Aaron that his sons have gone to God. Aharon’s response is silence. Vayidom Aharon – and Aaron was silent (Lev. 10:3). He didn’t cry out, he didn’t protest, but rather remained silent. Ramban, the 13th century Spanish Torah commentator explains that prior to Moshe’s words of comfort, Aharon had been weeping loudly. Moshe’s words of consolation calmed Aharon and he became silent. Aharon’s weeping was not only because he discovered that two of his sons had died but he was unable to make sense of the senseless. Parents aren’t supposed to bury children.  Aharon’s silence was not the silence of indifference, nor the silence of emotional shock. Aharon’s silence was the silence of acceptance.  He accepted Moshe’s words and God’s actions. Aharon’s silence indicated that he was able to make sense out of something that seemed senseless. When his sons died, there was someone to weep for them and there was someone to give meaning to their lives and to their deaths. Only in the aftermath of ascribing meaning to his sons' lives and his sons' deaths were Aharon capable of silence. Only then could Aharon listen to Moshe speak to his remaining two sons as to the appropriate manner in which he and his sons, given their stature and role within the community, must conduct their lives.  

          For the funeral of the Holocaust survivor, there was only silence because no one was able to tell me about this woman’s life nor death. I couldn’t help but think about the hundreds of thousands, if not millions of Jews whose deaths were greeted with silence because there was no one to talk about their lives, their deeds, their stories. This was not the silence of a pleasant memory after the memories have been shared. Nor the acceptance of death because that person’s life made sense.  Instead, there was only the silence of not accepting the unacceptable nor trying to make sense out of the senseless. 

Peace,

Rav Yitz

And The Seeds That Were Silent All Burst Into Bloom And Decay (Robert Hunter & Jerry Garcia - "Eyes Of The World")

Well it happened again.  Over the past 7-10 days there have been two terrorist attacks. One occurred in Brussels, approximately 35 people were killed and nearly 300 were wounded. This past Sunday, Easter Sunday, there was a terrorist attack in Pakistan where Christians were targeted, 72 were killed and approximately 340 were injured.  Each of the terrorist was a Muslim fundamentalists linked to ISIS. As I watched the news, and I watched my children watch news, I thought about the victims. Normally, I think about the terrorists, the environment in which they operated their religious fanaticism. This time, however, my thoughts gravitated toward the victims. No, I did not know any of them. Rather, the most obvious thought came to light. Each of these victims was someone’s child. Children were killed, millenials were killed, baby- boomers were killed. No matter their age, each of those killed had parent.  I watched my children and I tried to imagine how the authorities told the parents that their child was killed in a terrorist attack, and I tried to imagine the parent’s response to such horrific news.

This Shabbat is known as Shabbat Parah. The weekly Torah reading is Parsha Shemini. However, at the very end of the Torah reading, an excerpt from the first 21 verses from Parsha Chukat that discusses the laws of the Red Heifer, are read. Parsha Shemini consists of three chapters. The first of the three chapters discusses the Aaron’s final preparations and offerings that makes prior to his taking over the responsibilities of the Priestly service, offerings and opening of the Mishkan. He makes a Chatat, a Sin Offering, he makes an offering on behalf of the people, he blesses them, and everyone sees the offering is accepted by God. The second of the three chapters tells the narrative of Aaron’s two eldest sons deciding to make their own illicit offerings after the ceremony concludes. Their offerings are not only spurned but Aaron’s two sons are consumed by the fire of the offering. Moshe has to tell Aaron, his brother, the tragic news,  Aaron listens, Aaron mourns in his own way, and then Moshe warns Aaron and his two youngest sons to be sober when making the offerings and to be in an appropriate state of mind. The third of the three chapters discusses the laws of Kashrut and specifically those animals that are permissible to eat and those that are prohibited to eat.  The Parsha concludes with Hashem reminding the people that Kashrut is an expression of holiness and just like God is holy; B’nai Yisroel’s behavior must express its holiness and the holiness of its relationship with Hashem.

Aaron’s two eldest sons, Nadav and Avihu, “each took his fire pan, they put fire in them and placed incense upon it and they brought it before Hashem an alien fire that He had not commanded them. A fire came forth from before Hashem and consumed them, and they died before Hashem.  (Lev. 10:1-2). Moshe must now bring the news of the sons’ death to Aaron. Aaron’s response is amazingly dignified, profound and linguistically simple: VaYidom Aharon – And Aaron was silent.  Ramban, the great 12^th century commentator explains that until Moshe approached Aaron and offered an incredibly humane explanation as to what transpired, Aaron had been weeping. Moshe told Aaron Bikrovai Ekadeish – I will be sanctified by those who are nearest me.  Upon hearing Moshe’s explanation and consolation Aaron’s weeping ceased and he “silence” was an expression of his accepting Moshe’s consolation. Other commentators suggest that Aaron’ had been weeping because he mistakenly thought that his son’s were killed as a result of Aaron’s involvement with the Eigel Zahav – The Golden Calf. Moshe’s explanation convinced Aaron that he had been completely absolved of his involvement with the Golden Calf. As the Kohen Gadol who understood the nature of Korbonot, of offerings; intellectually, Aaron understood that nothing spiritually impure could ever be in close proximity to Hashem. The fact that Moshe suggested that his sons were in such close proximity to Hashem gave Aaron great comfort. Aaron’s silence should not be construed as a lack of sadness or loss. Rather Aaron’s silence demonstrated a profound belief in God despite suffering a tragic loss, and the strength of acceptance.

I can’t imagine hearing such tragic news and greeting it with silence. I can’t imagine that I would be capable to demonstrate my unwavering belief in God with silence; yet our tradition teaches us that when we hear tragic news we say Baruch Dayan Emet –Blessed is the God of Truth. The response doesn’t mean that we are neither weeping nor wailing on the inside. The response doesn’t mean that we are insensitive to the loss of those most treasured by us. Rather, we understand that sometimes the death of a loved one, certainly, God Forbid, the death of a child, seems so random and so out of order and utterly unfathomable; there are no words. Instead there is only the truth of silence. For all those parents who received the tragic news that their child was killed in Brussel and in Pakistan, there only response is the silence in the re-affirmation of life.

Peace,

Rav Yitz