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“Silent Aaron, Silent World,” Rabbi Zecher’s Shabbat Awakenings

March 25, 2022 | 22 Adar II 5782

Welcome to Shabbat Awakenings. Last week I offered this D’var Torah from the Torah portion to reflect on the situation in Ukraine. I want to share it with you this week as a reflection as we head toward Shabbat. You can listen to it as a podcast here.

And Aaron was silent.

His sons, appointed priests of the ancient sacrificial cult, brought forth alien fire.

And Aaron was silent.

God had not enjoined this kind of offering, so a different fire, a divine fire came forth and consumed them in an instant. Moses spoke:

“This is what the Eternal meant: Through those near to Me I show Myself holy and gain glory before all the people. But, Aaron, the high priest,  the father of these two young men, he was silent.” (Leviticus 10:3)

Moments before, there had been a seven-day ritual of ordination to install Aaron and his four sons as priests. Step by step, sacrifice by sacrifice, Aaron and his sons with blood and grain and smoke and fire, and animal body parts deftly and skillfully dashed and laid it all out on the altar, abiding by the regulation prescribed for them. (Lev. 9)

Then in a moment of rising action, Aaron lifted his hands toward the people and blessed them. He and Moses then went into the tent of meeting. When they emerged, together, they blessed the people. And that is when the Presence of the Eternal appeared as the climax to all that had happened up to that point. Fire came forth and consumed the burnt offering and the other animal parts. And the people saw, shouted and fell on their faces. The installation of the priests was complete. Day 8, it takes us back to where we started.

Yet, There was no time for celebration. In the next instant, that same fire that consumed the burnt offering, consumed the lives of Aaron’s sons, the newly ordained priests. Some say this was a warning sign, a clear message that there are protocols and dictated rules for the sacrificial offerings.

But Aaron was silent.

Some say the sons puffed up with their own hubris didn’t know their place.

But Aaron was silent.

And still there are those who believe among the mystics that the sons were transported to dwell with God.

But, I can’t get over that Aaron was silent.

There may be so much to say about those young men.

But I’m caught gasping by Aaron’s breathless response.

Why not rage against the light of day? Cry out in despair? Weep with lamentation that could not be ignored by even God?

The rabbis of the Talmud who would come around later were perplexed as well. They offered possibilities on a path to justification. (Leviticus Rabbah 20:8)

They veer in wild directions:

  • that his sons were in fact God fearing to quiet their anguished father.
  • or that his heart was broken, pained by the loss.

That very well could have been true. But the most frequent is that Aaron accepted God’s judgment on his sons and received reward. To me, there can be no acceptable compensation regardless of the interpreted rationalization.

Later in the chapter, there is another incident. This time with the two remaining brothers. Again, it had to do with an offering, but here it was where those newly ordained priests, the sacred would be consumed. They ate it in the wrong place, which angered Moses. But this time, Aaron spoke up to Moses. He explained their behavior and Moses heard what Aaron said. And Moses approved. It was good in his eyes. And then the chapter ends. As if the world could just go on.

But we are left frozen by the stillness in the face of death.

In the first instance of misaligned ritual behavior regarding his sons, Aaron was silent. In the second time, Aaron directed his words to Moses with clarity and explanation.

Perhaps his words this time could make a difference. Perhaps before, Aaron was stunned into silence. We do not know for sure. But we do know, “There is a time to speak out  and a time to remain silent,” as Ecclesiastes described. Or is there? We do not know what was going on in Aaron’s mind, what his inner conversation might have been.

Or, perhaps it wasn’t the consuming fire that enveloped his sons that thrust Aaron into silence.

Remember what Moses said to him immediately after: “This is what the Eternal meant: Through those near to Me I show Myself holy and gain glory before all the people.” In the face of death, Moses invoked God’s holiness and glory which seems to me a far cry from soothing words.

How could Aaron make sense of that image spoken by his brother? There has to be something else going on.

The answer is from the Book of Kings (19:11-13) when Elijah is exhausted and God spoke to him.

“After the earthquake — fire;

וְאַחַ֤ר הָרַ֙עַשׁ֙ אֵ֔שׁ

but the Eternal was not in the fire.

לֹ֥א בָאֵ֖שׁ יְהֹוָ֑ה

And after the fire —

וְאַחַ֣ר הָאֵ֔שׁ

a soft murmuring sound.

ק֖וֹל דְּמָמָ֥ה דַקָּֽה”

ק֖וֹל דְּמָמָ֥ה דַקָּֽה — kol d’mama daka

Means whisper, though a quiet voice. It still speaks.

But,  Aaron was silent. Listen to the Hebrew

וַיִּדֹּ֖ם אַהֲרֹֽן — Vayidom Aharon

The root of וַיִּדֹּ֖ם  is d’m’m’

The same as the still small voice: ק֖וֹל דְּמָמָ֥ה דַקָּֽה׃ — kol d’mama daka

In this moment of intense pain and agony, there is an immensely quiet voice responding. There is a voice but it is a whisper, even in his silence. God is speaking through him, drawn in close, a divine voice murmuring in the quiet.

The Hebrew is specific in what word is used.

It doesn’t say vayishtok Aharon. Aaron was silenced.

As in sheket! Be quiet! It was active.

What was God then saying? In that moment, when the tragedy drained Aaron’s breath from his voice, he was garnering the strength to regain it.

As we have watched the horror and atrocities perpetuated against the people of Ukraine, we have cried out and asked what can we do? Sanctions, donations, rallies are crucial divine work for sure and still have not been enough. Even diplomacy has fallen on covered, narcissistic ears, sometimes quietly and sometimes more boldly.

With the dead lying before us, fire reigns down terror and comes from a very unholy space.

Now it feels impossible to whisper. It is time to speak out much more boldly. To have our voices cry out in the wilderness of the cruelty of this war of unprovoked aggression.

The words in our tradition inform us: “Do not stand by the blood of your neighbor.” (Leviticus 19: 16) We cannot ignore the firebombing, the missiles, the lack of regard for human life. Big letters that yell “children are in here” so as not to turn it into a target but keep it protected. But fire instead reigns  down.

Isaiah, the prophet, rallied us: “Cry from the depth. Lift your voice like a shofar.” (58:1)

It is time to speak up and out. We need to advocate for our leaders to do more. We need more action in the face of death and destruction, even with the amount already demonstrated by NATO and the U.S. leadership.

We don’t need another history lesson of a maniacal evil leader moving across the continent and then ending up all the way in France. We should be angry and impatient. If our hearts are broken for the pain and anguish endured, imagine the three million refugees and the millions left behind who live in peril every second of every day.

There is an irony that our tradition attributes peace to Aaron. (Pirkei Avot 1:12) Hillel says, “Be of the disciples of Aaron, love peace and pursue peace.” These are active verbs. Let our love of peace that includes the wellbeing of the citizens of Ukraine lead us and the nations of the world to pursue peace aggressively and vigorously in every possible way.

There can be no such thing as silence.

Shabbat Shalom!

Connect with me here. I look forward to corresponding with you and to hearing your thoughts.