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.