Shabbat Shmini

As I began to prepare today’s sermon, I had nothing to say. I thought about you all, and what you might need to hear.

And…literally, nothing.

Then I stumbled upon two words that changed everything (from Lev 9:10-11:47, if you have a chumash in front of you): vayadom aharon -- “and Aaron was silent”, he had nothing to say!

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Let me back up: at this point in our story, the Israelites have built the Tabernacle, a kind of sacred machinery the Priests could run to bring God’s presence close to the people.

The 8th day arrives, when they’ll activate the Mishkan, and its Priestly service. But then…Aaron’s sons do something spontaneous, something not according to plan. They offer something the Torah calls eish zara, “strange fire.” And they die…

There are many of commentaries about why this happened: Some say they wanted to be in charge, and were waiting for Moses and Aaron to die. Others say they were intoxicated, and committed a transgression. Yet another explanation is that they entered the Holy of Holies, which only the High Priest was permitted to do.

But the bottom line is, this is an awful moment. Heartbreaking. Inexplicable.

Moses’ response? He basically says to Aaron: That’s what happens when you don’t follow the directions! – which we can all relate to, that desire to protect ourselves from despair by finding a reason for what’s happening, and then congratulating ourselves for having “helped” someone else (even when that’s not at all what the other person needs!)

We’ve all been Moses at some point or other…I know I have!

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Which brings us back to Aaron’s response: vaydom Aharon; and Aaron was silent (Lev 10:3). Maybe Aaron is so deep in the pain of his loss, he can’t even lash out at Moses; maybe he’s just numb, in shock, at a complete loss for words.

What are we to do in uncomfortable silences like that?

If we can bear it, we shouldn’t fill it with explanations, like Moses does. Our tradition tells us, instead, to invite God’s presence to be with us. The Talmud says: “When the Holy Blessed One sees God’s children suffering, God sheds two tears into the great sea, whose reverberations fill the world.”

God does not cause the suffering we live through -- but when we are in pain, God is there, weeping with us. Or as our beloved Rabbi, Harold Kushner so beautifully puts it:

The painful things that happen to us are not punishments for our misbehavior, nor are they in any way part of some grand design on God’s part. Because the tragedy is not God’s will, we need not feel hurt or betrayed by God when tragedy strikes. We can turn to God for help in overcoming it, precisely because we can tell ourselves that God is as outraged by it as we are.

Aaron’s response shows, even though Jewish tradition is full of words, there are times, like the times we are in now, when no words are adequate, when silence is exactly the right response. Loving silence doesn’t try to give reasons, or fix, or do -- it just is there, with you.

But there are ways we can be – reaching out and listening with love to our family and friends, feeling the earth nourishing us with food and the visual feast of early spring; taking care of our bodies, hearts and spirits so we can be more present to others and ourselves; allowing the Ground of Being to come up and meet us – so we can feel support in those moments we simply need to be held and witnessed.