Adi Alouf | Director of Student and Jewish Life, Jewish Studies Teacher
The Mishkan—the Israelites’ portable sanctuary—has been completed. The people stand at the threshold of a new chapter in their relationship with God. Moses, Aaron the High Priest, and Aaron’s sons are gathered to inaugurate the sacrificial service–the essential way for the Israelites to express devotion and connection to the Divine. God lays out detailed instructions for each offering, emphasizing that worship must be approached with precision and care.
Once the scene depicting the sacrificial procedures ends, the text immediately pans to Aaron’s sons, who go up to the altar and provide what the text calls a “strange fire.” The text is sparse, but presumably Aaron’s sons sacrificed in a way that diverged from God’s explicit command. Consequently, they are immediately consumed by fire and leave few remains.
When Aaron hears this news, he doesn’t cry or yell out in anguish or question God’s actions. He doesn’t say a word. Aaron’s response to hearing the news of the death of his sons is total silence.
Aaron’s reaction—his silence—has captured the imagination of commentators for generations. What does it mean to be silent in a moment like that?
Some interpret Aaron’s silence as his state of total shock or despair. Others suggest that it was a kind of acceptance of divine judgement. When I posed this question during Hakhel this week, one student shared that perhaps Aaron’s silence was an expression of mourning—like the moments of silence we take to honor those we’ve lost. Another student added that maybe there simply were no words. Such heartbreak is beyond verbal expression.
When Rabbi David Kasher reads of Aaron’s silence, he is reminded of an instance in the book of Kings where God’s presence is actually embodied in silence: God seemingly passes by Elijah the prophet through a series of natural occurrences – through wind, earthquake, and fire. The verses state though, that “God was not in the wind, nor the earthquake. And after the earthquake – fire – and God was not in the fire. And after the fire – a small, silent sound” (1 Kings 19:11-12). From this, Kasher expounds,
“…maybe, like Elijah, God spoke to Aaron through the sound of silence – and Aaron spoke back in silence. For it is difficult to see God in all the terrible tragedies of this world. But we may discover God in our response to them. Not in the fire, but in the silence” (Parshanut 149).
Yesterday, we gathered as a community to mark Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day. We listened to testimony. We sat in silence. Next week, we’ll observe Yom HaZikaron—Israel’s Memorial Day for Fallen Soldiers and Victims of Terror. Again, we will experience moments of silence together.
As we move through these days of memory, may we embrace silence as a sacred pause—not just as the absence of words, but as a presence of its own. And inspired by Kasher’s interpretation, may we find Godliness, connection, strength, love, and healing in our responses to the tragedy and suffering to which we bear witness. I am grateful to be part of a community that comes together in moments of volume – where there is conversation, song, and laughter – but also in moments of stillness and silence.
Shabbat Shalom.
