Holidays: "Pull and Take" the Passover Lamb

by Rav Yosef Naveh, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

When the Israelites were preparing for the Exodus, Moshe Rabbeinu told their elders: "Pull and take for yourselves sheep for your families, and slaughter the Pesach sacrifice" (Sh'mot 12,21). The fulfillment of this charge involved no small miracle, in that sheep were the Egyptians' god, yet they were powerless to stop the Jews from using and slaughtering them.

Shabbat HaGadol – the Great Sabbath, the last one before Pesach – was set as the day on which we remember this miracle and Israel's dedication to fulfilling G-d's word. As the Tur explains in Orach Chaim: "The Sabbath before Pesach is called Shabbat HaGadol, because of the great miracle of that day." He explains that we were commanded to take the sheep on the 10^th day of Nissan, which came out that year on the Sabbath, as the Exodus took place five days later, on Thursday.

But this raises the following question: It's true that the miracle happened on a Sabbath, but why shouldn't we commemorate the miracle on the 10^th day of Nissan every year, no matter what day of the week it falls out on?

The Chidushei HaRim writes that the 10^th day of Nissan is like the 10^th day of Tishrei – Yom Kippur, the day of atonement for all our sins. (This explains the custom of reciting the Pesach Haggadah, up to the words "to atone for all our sins," on Shabbat HaGadol.) That is to say, this Sabbath is a time to do teshuvah (repentance), a time to shore up our powers of improving ourselves and our deeds.

To do teshuvah, one must strive and work steadily – and what type of work? That of thinking and meditation. The word gadol (as in Shabbat HaGadol) is of the same letters as dilug, skipping; this Shabbat empowers us to do the skipping type of teshuvah, that is, teshuvah in which we skip the difficult stages between "Pull" and "Take" and go directly from one to the other. When a Jew fulfills "pull," pulling himself away and detaching himself from his bad deeds, he can immediately reach the stage of "take," in which he is taken to become the essence of that which is acquired to the Creator, for His purposes.

Of course, however, there is no guarantee. When one's service of G-d is done in the mode of "skipping," there are liable to be some falls and tumbles, because what he acquired quickly in terms of spirituality can sometimes be lost quickly as well, as it takes time for it to be well-grounded in one's soul. But via the special qualities of the Sabbath, which is kvia v'kayma [permanently fixed, precisely every seven days, week in and week out – as opposed to the Festivals, which are dependent on the rabbinic court's determination based on the sighting of the moon and other factors], these new spiritual qualities are rendered more permanent.

This is why our Sages chose to mark the taking of the lamb on the Sabbath every year, and not on the 10^th of Nissan – which generally falls out on a weekday – for weekdays do not have the power of stability and permanence.

This Shabbat grants us the ability to "pull" all at once, to withdraw our hands from any contact with foreign items, to purify our morals and actions. "Pulling" in its simple meaning is a legal form of acquisition; in our context, it means that we become "acquired" to G-d as His servants by pulling ourselves away from all unacceptable behavior and anything that is the opposite of the holiness of Israel.

Another reason can be given as well to explain why the Sages chose the Sabbath as the commemoration of the great miracle. We ask in our Sabbath prayers that G-d grant us a day of "love and desire." The Divine desires that we can arouse on the Sabbath cannot be activated on weekdays, and without the Sabbath, Israel would not be able to arouse within itself a strong and internal will to truly be G-d's servants. It is therefore specifically the Sabbath, with its boost of upper-level desire, that was chosen as the Shabbat HaGadol.

And on this Sabbath, we begin to draw to ourselves and accept the lights of the holiday of Pesach. The Talmud states (B'rachot 17a): "Our will is to do Your will, but the 'yeast in the dough' – i.e., our evil inclination – and our subjugation to foreign kingdoms prevent us." On the night of Passover, there is no 'yeast in our dough.' On this night, we are totally free to reveal our inner spirituality, our true inner will to perform G-d's desire.

We read in Psalms: "to do Your will, my G-d, I have desired, and Your Torah is within me" (40,9). The author of Lev Simcha explains the last words as alluding to the non-fermented matzah that enters our bodies, thus naturally helping us fulfill the first part of the verse – doing G-d's will. For on the night of Pesach, we burn out the bad, and come to have a true desire to wholeheartedly do G-d's will.

Metzora: The Tongue and the Heart

by Rav Naim ben-Eliyahu, of saintly blessed memory, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The Torah tells us that two birds must be taken for the purification ceremony of the leper. Why two birds? R. Yehuda ben Levi answers in the Talmud: "The leper did an act of pitter-pattering, therefore the Torah says that he should bring a sacrifice of something that pitter-patters."

The Sages have cited many allusions to the fact that leprosy is a Torah punishment for sins of speech, such gossip, speaking ill of others, and the like. This is seen here as well: When a person gossips about others, he is actually behaving like a sparrow – called a "bird of freedom" in Hebrew – chirping with no limits. When a person speaks lashon hara or maligns another, he is acting like a sparrow, which does not accept authority from anyone, has no discipline, and spouts off whatever comes to it. It chirps all over the place with no restraints, always squeaking and making noise – just like a person who does not watch his mouth, speaks whatever and wherever he wants, without regard to whether it might harm someone or cause damage. 

The Medrash tells us a story about a king who once took ill, and was told that only milk from a lioness could cure him. This presented a major challenge, as who would ever dare to come close to a lioness, let alone obtain her milk? The king announced that whoever would succeed in bring him a cup of lioness milk would receive a large fortune and be appointed his highest advisor to boot. One man came forth and said he could do it – but that he required a flock of sheep. He went to the lions' den and, from a distance, threw a lamb to the lioness. The carnivore was puzzled but happily ate the lamb. The next day the man came a bit closer and threw the lioness another lamb, and the same thing happened. Each day he came closer and closer, until after a month the lioness allowed him to come very close and even to pet her. At that point, the man took out a bottle from his pocket, and while the animal was busy eating, he gently milked her until the bottle was full.

On his way back to the king, he dreamt a strange dream, in which all his organs were arguing amongst themselves about who deserves the credit for this great accomplishment. The legs said, "If not for us, how would you have ever gotten there?!" The hands said, "We milked her!" The eyes said, "We showed you the way!" Etc. etc., until the tongue tried to speak up, but got shouted down by the others: "You're the smallest among us, you have no bones, and you live in a dark, wet place!" The tongue said, "Tomorrow you'll see how I actually totally control all of you."

The next day, the man arrived in the king's palace, and announced dramatically: "I have returned, and I have the dog's milk that you requested!" Predictably, the king was infuriated, and ordered the man thrown into the dungeon. His organs took up from where they had reached in the previous night's dream, but with the new-found understanding that it was the tongue that had the final word over them. 

The tongue said, "OK, now you'll see how I can save you." The man asked the dungeon-master to return him to the king so that he could appeal. He explained: "O master and king! Whatever I said before – what does it matter? Drink the milk, and if it heals you, that's what's important! And anyway, there are some languages in which a lioness is called a dog, which is why I said dog instead of lioness…" The king agreed to drink the milk, and lo and behold, he was cured of his disease, and rewarded the man as he had promised. 

We thus see that "death and life are in the hands of the tongue" (Proverbs 18,21). Regardless of its small size, it has a tremendous effect on our lives. The same is true with a sparrow that weighs but a few grams, but its sound, its influence, can be heard and felt from afar. Let us not make light of what our mouths can do. 

And now a word about Fear of Heaven: "The beginning of wisdom is Fear of Heaven," we read in Psalms 111. It is the first gate one passes through on his way to effective Torah study. What exactly is this trait?

We answer this question from the story of the Ten Plagues, and specifically the plague of Hail: "He who feared G-d's word among Pharoah's slaves gathered his servants and livestock into the houses; and he who did not pay attention to G-d's word, left his servants and livestock in the field [where they were smitten]."  

We see clearly that the opposite of "fear of Heaven" is simply apathy, not paying attention – and he who notes and lives by G-d's word is a G-d-fearing person. And what does G-d expect from us, primarily? We read in D'varim 5: "Would it be that their heart would be this way, to fear Me, and to keep My precepts…"

One who has fear and awe of Heaven is one who knows that he is not alone, and that G-d is with him everywhere – and this keeps him from behaving in an unseemly manner, and specifically from speaking wantonly and badly about others. As R. Moshe Isserles writes in the first paragraph of the classic Shulchan Arukh that he co-authored with R. Yosef Karo: 

"The verse I have placed G-d before me always is a great principle in the Torah and among the righteous, for a person who sits alone at home does not behave or speak the same way he does when he stands before a king… And all the more so when he imbues himself with the idea that he is standing before the King of Kings, the Holy One, Blessed be He – this will bring him fear and awe and surrender to G-d…"

R. Chelbo states in the Talmud: "Whoever has fear of Heaven, his words are heard, as is written in the end of Ecclesiastes: "The bottom line is that everything is heard; fear G-d and heed His commandments" – for his words are not like the chirping of a bird, but are rather thought-out and positive.

It is told about Rav Tzvi Yehuda, the son of HaRav Kook and Rosh Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav, that he rebuked his students for something – and yet a few days later, they did the same thing. He admonished them again, and yet again they did not listen. When it happened a third time, he quickly left and went into a side room. The students were greatly taken aback, and followed after him, and found him there crying. In shock at what they had done, they sought to mollify him: "We're sorry, we made a mistake, we will do teshuvah!" Rav Tzvi Yehuda said, "I'm not worried only about you – but also about myself! After all, if my words are not heard, it must mean that my Fear of Heaven is not strong enough! That's why I am crying!"

This is the extent to which the great giants of Israel were concerned for their fear and awe of Heaven. How much more so must we seek to strengthen this attribute in ourselves!

Holidays: The Month of Turning Sins into Merits

by Rav Yosef Naveh, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

We have entered into the great light of the month of Nissan, which is the month of Redemption both past and future. I saw written in the work HaLekach v'HaLibuv in the name of the Avnei Nezer that these days are considered "very precious, in which each hour is considered a day." How so?

Given that these days are so exalted, every hour of Torah study, good deeds, and prayer is counted in the Heavenly court as a complete day of service of G-d. Why? Because on these days, great light and abundance of spirituality, and of closeness between ourselves and Hashem, descend to the world.

We know that the month of Tishrei – the High Holy Days and Sukkot – is a time for repentance, teshuvah, that stems from fear and awe of G-d, and of the day of judgement. On the other hand, Nissan is a time for repentance based on love of G-d. The latter type of teshuvah is so sublime, the Gemara teaches, that even purposeful sins can turn into actual merits – as amazing as that sounds

It occurred to me that these two concepts can be connected, as follows.

The first concept is truly astonishing, in that when a person spends an hour or so in the month of Nissan preparing for the holiday, collecting mitzvot, etc. – G-d counts this time as a full day of mitzvot! That is, He sees the abundance of holiness of this person - but He also sees the many hours of the past year in which he did not do mitzvot, and might have actually done purposeful sins!  What does G-d then do?

With His great compassion, He spreads the merits that the person created in Nissan, and uses them to fill in all the hours and days of the rest of the year in which he did not do good deeds! That is, all the hours of Nissan that became full days of merits, now fill in for the missing hours and days in which sins were committed – and thus the sins become merits!

These days of Nissan are very exalted from another angles as well. The Rebbe of Lublin said that specifically the first 12 days of Nissan are aligned with the 12 months of the year. That is, the first day of Nissan corresponds to the entire month of Nissan, the second day is aligned with the month of Iyar, and so on. 

What this means is that a person can make a difference and can determine what will be each month of the year – according to how he behaves on the corresponding day! That is, if he increases extra Torah study, mitzvot, and prayer, spiritually and physically, on the fourth day of Nissan, for example, then the fourth month – Tammuz – will be accordingly successful for him.

May this be a catalyst for a good and blessed month! 

Tazria: G-d's Love for Israel: Conditional?

by Rav Moshe Tzuriel, of saintly blessed memory, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

In the Torah portion of Metzora (Vayikra 14-15), which is often paired with Tazria (chapter 13), we read (14,34-36) that in the Land of Israel, houses can be afflicted with leprosy. And in such cases, the Cohen must come and order the house to be emptied of the owner's belongings, before it is destroyed. The reason for this, Rashi explains, is to prevent the utensils inside from being defiled – for even though some of them can be purified, clay utensils cannot be purified.

From here we see, Rashi concludes, that the Torah is concerned even for our simplest utensils. And in the Medrash Torat Cohanim on Vayikra, R. Meir derives that if the Torah is so concerned even about a wicked person's meanest possessions, how much more so is He concerned for a righteous person and his special assets!

Other examples abound of G-d's love even for the wicked. Consider, for instance, the case of one who actually worshiped idols: After he is hanged, the Torah bids us to ensure that his corpse is not left there, "because the cursed of G-d is hanging (D'varim 21,23)." Some sages derived from the word "the cursed of G-d" - kil'lat Elokim" – that it indicates kal-let Elokim, meaning "it is not easy for G-d" to see the deaths even of wicked people.

The 18th-century R. Yehonatan Aybeschutz wrote in his classic work Ye'arot Dvash that when we pray for the sick in our daily prayers, we should "pray for all those of Israel, even sinners, who are ill, for our entire nation is one soul and one body – and if one Jew is sick, it is as if one organ of our body is unhealthy… and if a sinner is unhealthy, there is a chance that he will die without repenting – thus leaving our body incomplete."

But certainly this applies only to those whose sins are between man and G-d. But those who sin towards other people, we surely do not pray for them – for by doing so, we are praying that others should continue to suffer at his hands! How can we do a favor by praying for one sinner who is ill, while at the same time we do a disservice to those whom he harms? 

This point is made in the Medrash (Tanna D'vei Eliyahu 18): "If a Jew wishes to be happy at the downfall of wicked people, he may do so regarding those who seek to harm Israel; one is permitted to rejoice at the downfall of such great sinners."

But aside from them, the Gemara in Sanhedrin 46b teaches that G-d is sorrowful when the sinners of Israel die, because He would rather they rectify their deeds so that He need not punish them. And even when and if the judges of the Sanhedrin [the Great Court] ruled that a given idol-worshiper must be executed, they would fast that entire day in order to atone for their souls for having delivered such a verdict.

However: This approach contradicts many other Rabbinic teachings to the effect that G-d is truly happy at the destruction of wicked people. For instance, the Mishna (Sanhedrin 111a) allegorically quotes G-d as saying, "If you carry out the law of the Wayward City [i.e., destroy a city of idolaters], I regard it as if you had brought a perfect Olah sacrifice" in the Holy Temple. 

And in the Medrash Sifri: "There is great joy before G-d when those who anger Him are lost from the world, as is written (Proverbs 11,10): "There is joy when wicked people are lost." And there are other similar sources as well.

How do we resolve such a contradiction? Those who do not delve deeply into the words of the Sages tend to settle on an easy solution by saying that the Sages simply disagreed with each other. However, this approach is almost never true. Rather, as in most cases, both approaches are actually correct – depending on the circumstances. For instance, in this case, G-d is in fact happy when an evil sinner is about to be punished – but then, after the punishment has been meted out and the sin has been atoned for, G-d is sad for him and wishes to bring him close.

This explains why after the idolater is hanged, and his sin has been expunged, it is kal let – not easy for G-d to have him continue to hang there, and commands us to remove him from the tree. 

Similarly, it is forbidden to add even one more whip to the 39 stripes [or fewer, in certain cases] that must be administered to certain sinners – for the Torah states that "your brother must not be shamed [made vile] before you" (D'varim 25,3), calling him "your brother" after he has received his punishment.

And the same is true regarding homes afflicted by leprosy, about which we wrote above: When the homeowner sees the leprosy beginning to spread on his walls, he begins to fear that his home will be razed. And when he calls the Cohen to come, he is already trembling and afraid. Thus, he has already been punished – and therefore G-d has pity even on his cheapest utensils. 

In summation: The examples of joy at the destruction of the wicked apply generally when the sins were between man and man, and the people who rejoice are those who have suffered at the sinners' hands. G-d Himself, however, is not happy after the punishment has been carried out, and He rather waits hopefully for the sinner to repent properly. 

And Rav Kook explains beautifully (in Orot, p. 75) that G-d loves Israel, period – even the sinners:

"The Prophet Malachi says in G-d's name: 'Esav is brother of Yaakov - and I love Yaakov...'  Truly, as we say in our prayers, 'Everlasting love You have loved us… etc.' And even though sometimes we do not see this openly, the clear truth is what the Tribes told their father Yaakov when he suspected them of possibly straying from the true path: 'Just as in your heart there is only one, so too in our heart there is only one.'

"And in Yirmiyahu we read (50,20): 'In those days… the iniquity of Israel shall be sought - but it shall not be there; and the sins of Judah [will be searched for] but they shall not be found, for I will forgive those I leave over.'"

Holidays: What's So Special About the Month of Nissan?

based on an article by Rabbi Chaim Avihu Schvartz, Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

A lesson in honor of the approaching month of Nissan, the month of redemption

When discussing the relative values and the special events of different Jewish months, the Mishnaic Sages agree that Israel was redeemed from Egypt in the month of Nissan. However, the world was created in Tishrei and will also be redeemed again in Tishrei, according to R. Eliezer's view, while R. Yehoshua holds that these two events will happen in Nissan.  

What is special about these two months?

The Torah tells us: "This month [Nissan] is the head of the months for you; it is first for you among the months of the year" (Sh'mot 12,2). Nissan marks the beginning of Israel's redemption from Egypt. Redemption is true physical and spiritual independence, and the month of Nissan is a special reality of the nation of Israel. Israel does not live according to the time-routine of the Gentiles, but rather according to its own system of time. As the Maharal of Prague explains, the above mitzvah of regarding Nissan as the primary month, and specifically of sanctifying and declaring the new month as the new moon is sighted, was the first one commanded to Israel as a nation. This means that the Torah begins by having us understand that Israel has a unique reality of time, different than the rest of the world.  

The Difference Between Nissan and Tishrei

Nissan and Tishrei are the two primary months in terms of the sanctity of time. The Maharal explains that Nissan is the "first-born" of the months, as indicated in the above verse, and that in general, the Exodus has many elements of "first-born:" the smiting of the Egyptian first-borns, the mitzvah of "sanctifying the first-born" among both Jews and certain animals, and more.  

In addition, Nissan marks the beginning of the year in terms of months – what the Torah calls here Rosh Chodashim, "the head of the months." Continuing with the Maharal, he says that just as in the physical body, the most important organs are the head (thought) and heart (the encounter with life), so too with the months: Nissan is heart, and Tishrei is mind.

That is, Tishrei stands for intellect, the time of judgement. The days from Rosh HaShanah to Yom Kippur are when we give a detailed accounting of how we are living our lives and how we use our Free Will. Just like our intellect is holy in that it is man's most spiritual and supreme force, so too the month of Tishrei is holy. Though the year begins in Tishrei, in terms of months it is number seven, which is known as a holy number. The Medrash tells us that "seven was chosen for sanctity in days, months, and years: The seventh day is the Sabbath, the seventh month is Tishrei, and the seventh year is Sh'mitah." Tishrei is thus sanctified with the holiness of thought and intellect.

Nissan, on the other hand, is heart – that which sends out blood and gives life to the entire body. The Torah commands us to make sure (via the mechanism of leap years) that Pesach occurs in chodesh ha'aviv, the month of spring (Nissan); spring represents the annual return of plants and trees to life, and it is in Nissan when we recite the Blessing on Trees, birkat ha'ilanot. In Nissan, the entire world is renewed, and new life is revealed in Creation. 

When Was the World Created? 

There are two opinions in the Gemara regarding the date of Creation. R. Eliezer says it happened in Tishrei, while R. Yehoshua says it was in Nissan. Ultimately, Rabbeinu Tam of the 12th-century Tosafists says that the Rabbinic principle both opinions are the word of the living G-d" applies here: the first Divine thought to create the world was in Tishrei, while in Nissan it was actually created. 

Based on this, we can say that there are two stages in Creation: The first was in Tishrei, with the creation of the world in G-d's supreme inner thought, but still only in potential. The second stage was in Nissan, when the potential was manifest and the physical world came into being.

Nissan: The Point of Connection

What then is the argument between the two above Sages? R.   Eliezer held that it was appropriate for G-d to create the world in Tishrei, because of its sanctity and its high level. Just as the intellect - the head - is the most spiritual part of the body, so too Tishrei is the same among the months – close to G-d and ready for the creation of the world. 

R. Yehoshua, on the other hand, was of the opinion that Nissan was the best choice for Creation, because it is the first of the months, closer than the others to the Divine source "above time." This is Nissan's special holiness, and in this way it is closest to G-d. The other months are physical and material, compared to Nissan. 

Nissan is thus differentiated from the other months. We count the years since Creation from Tishrei, but in terms of the inner aspects of the Congregation of Israel, the year begins with Nissan – the point at which the year connects with the Divine source. 

We, for ourselves, can sanctify any day of the year via Torah study, total self-dedication, and the like – but because of Nissan's special properties, we can come closer to G-d during this month than in any other month.

Nissan is thus a month of miracles as well; its meaning in Aramaic is "our miracles." This is because Nissan is the point of connection between reality and that which is beyond nature. Nissan has historically been a month of many miracles for the Jewish People.

 Similarly, our bread on Pesach - matzah - is Divine bread of holiness; it has no yeast or chametz of the Yetzer Hara. Regular bread is different in that it has yeast, and its baking time is different – again showing that Nissan is the month of the ultimate connection between nature and the Divine source. Nissan is therefore particularly appropriate for Redemption, may it be speedily in our days, Amen!

Shmini: The Untold Story of Silence

by Rav Hillel Mertzbach, Rabbi of the Central Synagogue, Yad Binyamin, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

In this week's Torah portion of Shmini (Vayikra, chapters 9-11), we read of the shocking sudden deaths of Nadav and Avihu, two of the four sons of Aharon the High Priest. Many explanations have been give not only for the tragedy, but also for Aharon's reaction: total silence (Vayikra 10,3). Among the explanations given for this response are these: 

1. Aharon was so shocked that he simply was unable to speak. (Abarbanel)
2. He was silent because he accepted the Divine decree with love (Sforno, Hizkuni, Ktav v'HaKabalah)
3. He was silent because he was restrained and thinking how to best respond. When Yaakov Avinu found out that his daughter Dina had been raped by Sh'khem ben Hamor, he simply remained quiet (B'reshit 34,5) until his sons returned home; he was reserved and invited his sons to consider together why this had happened and what should be done.
4. Aharon's silence was one of surrender and despair, of lost hope and no reason to live. Some Holocaust survivors were not able to speak after the devastation they had lived through.

The Story of Tzemach David Farajun

I would like to suggest another explanation, in light of a phenomenon to which I was witness a number of years ago. On Motzaei Purim, just after the festive Purim meal ended, a young, precious Yeshiva student named Tzemach David Farajun passed away suddenly, at the age of 22. 

That very Purim day, he had been very active. This is a partial list of the mitzvot he managed to fulfill on the day of his passing: 

• He arose for the pre-dawn vatikin prayers, so that he could prepare himself spiritually to read aloud the Scroll of Esther for a later service.
• He sent an email to the community e-list that he was willing to read for whomever needed to hear a reading.
• He read the Scroll four times in different places for different people.
• He of course fulfilled the other mitzvot of Purim – mislo'ach manot, gifts to the poor, and the festive meal. 
• He learned Torah for a few hours.
• He told a friend that he didn't want to drink more than the minimum amount of wine required for Purim, because there had to be someone who would be learning Torah while everyone was drinking.
• After the festive meal, he and his wife went to his parents' home and helped them clean the house.

Tzemach David then went to pray the evening service, but on his way there, he suffered a fatal heart attack. He had been known to be perfectly healthy in all other ways.

Most unfortunately, adding to the sorrow was the fact that someone decided to publicize, during the funeral, various announcements to the public, such as:

** "Why do they allow Yeshiva students to drink wine?"

** "Who are these rabbis who teach their student to drink to excess?"

** "Those who encourage alcohol on Purim are not guiltless in this death."

These irrelevant and hurtful accusations were not only out of place, but caused even greater consternation to the grieving, mourning family. 

Why did Nadav and Avihu Die? 

As I was pondering these unfair allegations made at the funeral of Tzemach David, of blessed memory, another explanation for Aharon HaCohen's silence at his sons' deaths occurred to me. Perhaps he was silent because he simply did not know why they died. In later years, many Sages and commentators, would raise various possibilities to explain their deaths, such as:

• Perhaps they conducted the Temple service while intoxicated?
• Did they offer a "strange fire," as the Torah mysteriously says?
• Did they rule on a matter of Torah law in place of their teacher Moshe?
• Were they actually greater than Moshe and Aharon, such that they were the candidates by which G-d fulfilled His words, "with My close ones I will be sanctified" (10,3) via their deaths at the dedication of the Tabernacle?

But these would be considered centuries later. For Aharon, with the corpses still warm before him, he had no way of knowing why they were killed – and therefore, he remained silent. 

When I went to comfort the mourning family of Tzemach David, his young widow – whom I had once taught in a post-high school Medrasha program – asked me for some words of encouragement and strength. I thought to myself, "What can I say?" After a short silence, I asked her, "What do you think Tzemach David would have wanted you to do now?" 

She immediately answered: "I know! He said to me just before Purim, on the Fast of Esther, 'I want us to take something upon ourselves.' I asked him, "Like what?' And he said, 'Every trial that comes our way, let us accept it with happiness.'" 

The Silence of the Body

The Mishna in Pirkei Avot (1,17) teaches in the name of Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel: "All my life I grew up among Sages, and I never found something as good for the body as silence."

Why did Rabban Shimon, when speaking about the virtue of silence, tie this to the "body," of all things? Why did he not simply praise silence as a fine attribute? And why did he have to point out that he had grown up among Sages? Is that relevant to the value of silence?

Let us remember that the Medrash teaches us that among the Ten Rabbinical Martyrs, Rabban Shimon was the one killed by decapitation – at which point, the High Priest R. Yishmael, another of the Martyrs, beheld the fallen head and wept bitterly: "Is this the reward for Torah? The tongue that explained the Torah in 70 ways – how does it now lick the dust?!" 

The renowned Sh'lah wrote about this over four centuries ago: "Rabban Shimon was killed for the Sanctification of G-d's Name; these holy ones are sanctified with their bodies as well." 

I heard in the name of my friend, Rabbi Rashi Tuito, that Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel lived in the time of the destruction of the Second Holy Temple, and saw the People of Israel undergo many tribulations. At the time, the Sages gave various explanations for the destruction and the cruel executions of the Ten Martyrs – but Rabban Shimon simply taught that in order to reconcile the suffering of the body, the best approach is simply to remain quiet. The best explanation for all tribulations is simply silence.

In Short

Let us try to learn from Aharon the High Priest, and know when it is best just to remain silent. Aharon, who witnessed the worst tragedy that can befall a father, didn't understand what had just happened – and so he chose to keep quiet. He decided simply to wait for answers – whether or not they would actually ever come.