Aharon's Silence

Parshat Shmini 

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

 Immediately after the deaths of Nadav and Avihu, Moshe tells his brother, “This is what God meant when he said ‘I’ll be sanctified with those closest to me and before the nation I’ll be honored,’ and Aharon was silent.” 

 Aharon’s silence in response to all of this is legendary, such that much has been written about it. How we learn from him how to mourn, how to accept tragedy as God’s will.

 But is it really as simple as that? Is Aharon really accepting of the tragedy? Does he have no questions? Is there no anger in his heart? No feeling of “Why my sons, God?” And is his silence in reaction to the tragedy he experienced? Or is it a response to Moshe’s words?

 To this last question, consider how quickly Moshe seems to respond. “This is what God meant when he told me a sanctification would take place!” Wait a second…. You knew? You knew someone was going to die? [Rashi indicates Moshe explained that he just didn’t know who was going to die – he thought it was going to be Moshe and Aharon!] You thought I was going to die and you didn’t give me the courtesy of telling my family, or of at least preparing for that possibility?

 If my brother did that to me I’d be at a loss for words too. 

 Ramban says Aharon first cried and then he stopped crying. HaKsav V’Hakabbalah takes issue with the suggestion feeling the word in the Torah would be “וישתק” (“and he was then quiet”) as opposed to וידם, which suggests immediate silence. In his view, this is much more praiseworthy of Aharon, for simply accepting what seems to be God’s will.

 Netziv suggests that in general crying over the deceased is considered to be kavod hameis (a way of honoring the dead). Moshe telling Aharon that their deaths brought honor to God suggests that honoring them through silence is the greatest kavod hameis because it is, in this case, a way of honoring God. 

 In his Tiferes Shlomo, Rabbi Shlomo Hacohen Rabinovitch presents Nadav and Avihu as being moseir nefesh, putting their lives on the line, for the sake of the Mishkan. The argument is that the bringing of an animal korban is, in and of itself, a low form of sacrifice. In order to sanctify the Mikdash (holy sanctuary), a higher form of korban needed to be brought. In the world of living creatures, what is more precious than a human being? Nothing! Nadav and Avihu put themselves in a situation in which their own personal sacrifice – whether they intended to die or not – was the watershed moment that allowed for the animals of a lower status to then be brought as korbanos. 

 כי שני הנשמות הצדיקים הגדולים האלו שמסרו נפשם בתחלה קודם התחלת העבודה בהקרבנות במשכן כי לא היה באפשר להעלות שום קרבן אם לא שהעלו תחלה ע"י עליית נשמתם ואח"כ ע"י מס"נ שהעלו הם מ"נ יכלו להעלות קרבן לה' כי זהו ידוע בכוונת הקרבנות שהם לקרב הרחוקים להעלות כל העולמות בבחי' נ"ר נח"י וא"א להעלות קרבן מן הבהמה שהוא נפש נמוכה אם לא ע"י העלאת נפש האדם מ"נ תחלה 

 This is a fascinating perspective that gives Aharon the chance to see how holy his sons truly were. Rabbi Rabinovich goes on to say that when it became clear to Aharon, particularly through what Moshe told him, that his sons weren’t sinners but were in fact very holy, this was a source of great comfort to Aharon. 

 The Shem MiShmuel makes a similar argument, quoting the Maharal of Prague.

 כמבואר כ"ז במהר"ל ז"ל, ולכך הי' מתירא מן העונש שהגיע להם ונגפם והוציאם לחוץ שמא ח"ו נדחו לגמרי, ולכך הי' עצב, אבל אחר ששמע שהם יר"ש ונתקדש ש"ש ע"י כמ"ש בקרובי אקדש וגו' ולכך וידום אהרן, דעיקר בריאת האדם הוא להרבות כבוד שמים כמ"ש (ישעי' מ"ג) עם זו יצרתי לי תהלתי יספרו, ואחר שנתקדש ש"ש על ידם כבר עשו את שלהם בעולם, והלכו לאור באור החיים וזכו בחלקם לעוה"ב, ולכך וידום אהרן ושמח עוד בקידוש ש"ש, 

 When he learned that they were in fact God fearing and not sinful, he was able to calm down, knowing and understanding that they had sanctified the name of heaven. 

 This approach is also clear in the Midrash Aggadah, that when Aharon processed the greatness of his sons, he was immediately silent. 

 Seforno describes it “Aharon was comforted by the Kiddush Hashem (sanctification of God’s name) that occurred through their deaths.” 

 Undoubtedly, the experience of this kind of tragedy is hard to contemplate, and the reaction that Aharon has seems almost inhuman. How could a person not cry, not mourn, not take a break? It would be totally understandable for Aharon to put aside his communal responsibility to say “I need to be with my family. We need to mourn.” Aharon’s putting all that aside is the stuff legends are made of. 

 [There is a very different way of looking at things through the perspective of Elisheva, Aharon’s wife and the mother of Nadav and Avihu.] 

 Whether you prefer the approach that Aharon was silent and stoic because of what Moshe had apparently hidden from him, or you prefer the approach of Aharon’s silence being of the accepting of God’s will variety, or you prefer the process Aharon goes through in learning things about his sons that he may not have been aware of… the fact remains that Aharon’s silence speaks volumes to those who struggle with loss, and in finding a way to cope. 

 In the last 2.5 years in particular in Israel, and elsewhere around the globe, the Jewish people have suffered many losses. There has been a lot of crying, there has been a lot of mourning, and there have been many questions, as there should be. 

 But there has also been an inordinate amount of strength and hope for rebuilding that has characterized much of what the aftermath of tragedy has looked like. I find incredible chizuk from the widows in particular who have remarried (and the incredible men who embrace a bereaved family) after suffering the loss of a husband and father on the battlefield, as well as the widowers who have found a partner after suffering a military loss or a loss from terrorism or a direct rocket hit. 

 Aharon did not have more children after this. He never “replaced” what was lost. Perhaps there is no such thing as replacement. But there is a path forward to be found. And Aharon found it, and became a legend for it, for his family, and for all of Am Yisrael.

 May we be inspired by Aharon, and learn to find a path forward in the face of tragedy.