Day 181
It’s hard not to scream.
Our natural reaction to the challenges, the ongoing losses, the lack of support from the world community - it makes you want to scream.
This week’s Torah portion, once again so timely, teaches us how to react in moments of tragedy.
The portion, entitled Shmini, which means the eighth, speaks of the celebration of sanctifying the Tabernacle.
There were eight days of sanctification, and on the eighth day, the height of spirituality, a tragedy occurred.
Nadav and Avihu, two sons of Aaron the High Priest, themselves priests or Cohanim, brought a strange fire into the Tabernacle.
Due to their elevated spiritual status and the intense holiness of the day, their action was punishable by death.
The two sons of Aaron the Cohen, died tragically at the time that should have been the pinnacle of joy.
The Torah records the reaction of Aaron, the bereaved father.
He was silent.
Sivan Rahav Meir and Rabbanit Yemima Mizrachi share some incredible insights into this tragic incident and share wisdom with us for our present situation.
The day Aaron’s sons died was a holy day, a joyous day.
So too, October 7 was Simchat Torah, a holy and joyous day.
And so many of our children died.
Pure and holy children.
How do we respond?
Aaron was silent.
This is not because he has no words. Aaron was the orator.
He was the one chosen by Gd to speak on behalf of Moses.
But here he has nothing to say.
He makes space for silence.
This is hard for us to fathom.
We are challenged by silence.
In fact, they are called uncomfortable silences.
It’s hard for us.
We feel the need to keep talking.
We have so many questions and we need answers.
But here Aaron is silent.
Yet this is the most talked about silence ever.
It was a thunderous silence.
One born of faith.
It raises the question for us, why are we so uncomfortable with silence?
When a person is sitting shiva for the loss of a loved one and people come to comfort the mourner, there is a Jewish law regarding the conversation.
The mourner needs to speak first. Until the mourner says something and opens the conversation, the visitors are supposed to sit quietly.
Not talk.
Just be there with the mourner.
Give the mourner space and just give the gift of support and presence.
Without talking.
The Torah teaches us that to help people heal we should be quiet.
“Silence is not an empty void, but a language of its own. We need to hear it’s profound voice.”
There is a renaissance of a Chassidic movement called Breslov. One of its main messages is that of quiet, personal introspection.
This allows one to pause.
It permits quiet, and moments not filled with constant tittle tattle that allow us to hear and perhaps truly listen.

It’s hard to sit quietly in any situation.
I challenge you to try it.
Take a few moments and close off all the distractions and sit quietly with your thoughts.
Find a quiet place to do this activity.
It may feel very strange.
The moments of quiet may drag on.
But the more we practice, the more profound and insightful and comforting such moments can become.
Rashi, the super commentator, tells us that Aaron was praised and rewarded for his silence at this time.
First of all, later in the Parsha he merits a direct communication with Gd.
And secondly, Aaron is told that the entire nation will lament with him over this terrible loss.
All the Jewish people will weep over the tragedy.
It was a message that Aaron was not alone.
The Jewish people will mourn together with him.
Lessons from the war.
Jennifer Airly lost her son Binyomin HYD who fell, fighting in Gaza. We have learned so much about this incredible young man who left behind a legacy of personal growth which his mother, Jennifer, has shared with the world.
When she was sitting shiva for her son, people from all over the world came to comfort her.
She heard about a large group of high school students in New York who had accepted upon themselves commitments in personal growth based on Binyomin’s list of potential personal commitments.
These young women were intent on carrying on Binyomin’s legacy.
His mom felt comforted.
She was not alone.
Even teenaged girls on the other side of the world were with her, recognizing her son’s impact, following in his footsteps.
She felt comforted. She did not feel so alone.
This week we lost the 600th soldier of this war.
Eerily enough, his name was Nadav Cohen.
The name of one of Aaron’s sons who died in this Torah portion was also named Nadav.
And he was a Cohen (priest).
It makes us want to scream.
We need to make our voices heard, we need to speak out against the tyranny.
But first we must be silent.
We must make space for the pain so those who are suffering the loss will feel our love, support and presence.
So they will not feel alone.
“And your brothers, the whole house of Israel, will cry over the loss”.
We are quietly bowing our heads and holding the pain with all the bereaved.
In respectful silence.
Shabbat Shalom and so much love.