22 Mar SHABBOS IS IN THE AIR: THE SOUND OF SILENCE

“Vayehi bayom hashmini, and it was
on the eighth day.”
(Vayikra 9:1)
The number seven connotes tevah, what
is natural, as in the days of the week, while
eight is le’ma’ala min ha’tevah — above
and unconstrained by nature, entering the
realm of the spiritual.
For a week, Moshe was busy consecrating the Mishkan. On Yom HaShemini, the
eighth day, the Mishkan was inaugurated.
A day of much anticipated joy and celebration. A day of attaining great spiritual
heights.
For Aaron, the brother of Moshe and the
Kohain Gadol, it evolved into a day of
tragedy.
“Nadav and Avihu, sons of Aaron took
their fire pans, and placed ketores, incense
in them and offered them before HaShem.
An alien fire that HaShem had not commanded. And a fire came forth from HaShem and consumed them. And they died
before HaShem.” (Vayikra 10:1-2)
Nadav and Avihu erred by bringing an offering on their own. An aish zarah, a foreign fire. An offering that had not been requested by HaShem. There are numerous
explanations as to why and how this could
have happened. One is a teaching of Rabbi
Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev. He explains
that their death was not a divine punishment, but in their eagerness to serve HaShem, they crossed a boundary, endeavoring
to enter a world in which they were unable
to exist.
Nadav and Avihu saw their father prepare
for the kehunah. Their desire to come closer to HaShem was part of their very being.
Yet, in their fervor to attain greater spiritual height, they did something they were
not asked to do.
We can’t begin to comprehend the agony
Aaron must have endured, losing two sons
at the very same moment. What words of
comfort and consolation could Moshe possibly offer to his beloved brother. With
much compassion, Moshe approached
Aaron, telling him that Nadav and Avihu
perished while sanctifying HaShem’s
name. He conveyed a message from HaShem that “B’krovai ekodesh, I will be sanctified by those who are closest to Me, v’al
pnei kol ha’am ekovaid, thus, I will be
honored before the entire nation.” (Vayikra
10:3)
Rashi comments that Moshe consoled
Aaron with these beautiful words: “Aaron
achi, my brother Aaron, I knew that the
Mishkan would be sanctified by those beloved by HaShem. But I thought it would
be either you or me. Now I know that they
(Nadav and Avihu) were greater than either
of us.”
Vayidom Aaron, and Aaron was silent.
How do we understand Aaron’s reaction?
One of the great Torah commentators, the
Malbim explains that the word vayidom,
and he was silent, is not commonly used to
describe silence. It is used when one becomes quiet in the midst of speaking.
While Aaron was expressing his emotions
on his tragic loss, Moshe spoke, and Aaron
said nothing further.
Upon comforting one who is mourning, it
is customary not to initiate conversation,
but to allow the mourner to take the lead.
Aaron began speaking, and Moshe responded with words of comfort.
Vayidom Aaron. Aaron stopped speaking
and accepted Moshe’s words of consolation.
There is yet another understanding to the
word vayidom. Vayidom has the same root
as the Hebrew word domeim, meaning inanimate objects such as stones, rocks and
mountains.
Aaron’s reaction was to be resilient, like a
rock. After hearing Moshe’s words,
he became strong as a mountain. Unshakable and steadfast.
Vayidom – he was silent. Not a silence of anger or bitterness. Nor a
silence of despair and depression.
Aaron’s silence reflected his emunah
and bitachon. Even though the pain
was devastating, Aaron’s silence expressed his knowledge that HaShem
was with him, at all times and
through all circumstances. His silence spoke volumes.
Though there may not be any answers as to why, Aaron was ready to
be strong and continue his holy work
as the Kohain Gadol.
We don’t always need to know why,
we need to have faith to carry on.
That is the essence of a Jew.
It started as a beautiful fall day. My
father, HaRav Meshulem ben HaRav
Osher Anshil HaLevi zt”l, went to
see a doctor for some stomach pain,
expecting a routine exam. But it was
anything but routine. My Abba was
informed that he was facing a diagnosis of cancer.
Vayidom. My father mustered up
his inner reserves of strength, and accepted the doctor’s words with unwavering trust in HaShem. The doctor later shared with our family how
“the Rabbi brought tears to my eyes,
when he said that he was sorry that I
had to relay a difficult diagnosis”.
Vayidom. The day was not over.
Without saying a word, or exhibiting
any outward sign of pain, my father
continued on with his schedule. He went
from the doctor’s office to my sister
Slovie’s home, to be a loving zeide and
study Torah with his grandson.
It was only later in the day that Abba
shared the news with our family.
The strength of silence.
The power of vayidom.
Pirkei Avos, Ethics of the Fathers tells us
that Aaron was known as an oheiv shalom
and a rodeph sholom, a lover of peace and
a pursuer of peace. A man who lives with
faith and trust in HaShem is a man of
peace. Peace with himself, and peace with
his fellow man.
The word sholom, is similar to the word
sholeim, fulfilled and whole. With the
knowledge that HaShem is always guiding
us, and is with us no matter what, we are
able to experience inner peace, sholom and
true fulfillment, shleimus. My mother, the
Rebbetzin a”h would often say that my father was like his name – Meshulem, complete and fulfilled. A man of peace and
harmony. May both of their neshamos be
for a blessing.
Klal Yisroel is mourning the loss of the
leader of our generation, HaRav Chaim
Kanievsky, zt”l. Though I never had the
z’chus to meet the Rov personally, I was
privileged to receive a berachah from his
Rebbetzin, Rebbetzin Batsheva Kanievsky,
a”h. It was years ago, but the memory is
vivid. I recall standing on the steps leading
up to their home. There was a long line of
women waiting to see the Rebbetzin. The
home may have been small and humble,
but like the Beis HaMikdash, the walls
seemed to expand, and there was room for
everyone. I saw the small kitchen, from
where the Rebbetzin cooked for so many,
and the room where the Rov learned. It
took me back to a different era. The Rov
did not need anything more than his seforim.
The Rebbetzin took my kvittel to give to
the Rov, and invited me – as she did so
many others – to sit on the chair of her holy
father-in-law, HaRav Yaakov Yisroel
Kanievsky, known as the Steipler Gaon
zt”l, for a berachah. It was a treasure to be
in the presence of such great people who
gave their entire lives to Klal Yisroel.
Yehi zichronom boruch.
Shabbat Shalom!