"There are No Words"- is That a Good Thing?

By Rabbi Binyomin Fishman

We're all swamped with negative news. People battling for their lives, with many losing the fight. Isolation from the outside world. People losing their jobs by the millions. And for every bit of good news, 5 more negatives pop up to take their place.

During this time, we're overwhelmed into silence. One of the oft-repeated phrases is "there are no words." We can't even describe what's going on, how we're feeling, or how we want things to be. There are simply no words.

But what does this silence really mean? Can we reframe this struggle to articulate, in some way that will help us develop and grow?

There's a general idea of a "moment of silence" while thinking of people who have passed on. The usual explanation is that before we continue on with our lives, we want to remember those who cannot join us anymore. We stop, think- and then move on. But what exactly is accomplished by doing this? If this is all we think about, then that moment of silence has no lasting impact. It's a symbolic act of respect, but one devoid of positive accomplishment.

Judaism view silence in a very different light. I want to share two different, though complementary, approaches to the topic. Together, they give us a framework how to grasp the need for silence, and how to use it to grow even during these hard times.

Can we reframe our struggle to articulate, in a way which will help us grow?

Aharon's "Moment of Silence"

In Vayikra (Leviticus) chapter 10, we read about Nadav and Avihu- two of the children of Aharon Hacohen- who brought forbidden incense during the inauguration of the Mishkan (Tabernacle) and were killed in a supernatural way. In verse 3, Moshe tells Aharon that Hashem is sanctified through the deaths of his sons. The verse concludes, וידם אהרן "Aharon was silent."

Why was he silent? He wasn't mourning- Moshe explicitly tells him a few pesukim later that he's not supposed to mourn (which hopefully we'll explain in a different article.) In fact, his silence is taken as a tremendous deed. The Talmud and commentators point out that as a reward for his silence, he merited to have a subsequent halacha regarding sobriety and the mishkan addressed solely to him (verses 8-9). So what's so great about his silence?

What was so great about Aharon remaining silent?

Rav Shimon Schwab zatza"l explains this in a very powerful way. In Jewish machshava/"philosophy" the physical world is divided into four categories: 1) דומם "domem" the inanimate creations (rocks, minerals etc.) 2) צומח "Tzomeach", vegetation. 3) חי "chai" living beings i.e. animals. 4) מדבר "Medaber" speaking creations i.e. humans. Each level supports the one higher than it. Domem provides the nutrients for plant life; vegetation gives sustenance to the animal world; and the animals provide humans with our needs. Humans, in turn, elevates all levels of the physical world by using them in the service of the spiritual world. Man serves Hashem and raises all of creation along with him.

Rav Schwab points out that each level cannot comprehend the one higher than it. Try explaining to a rock what it means to grow and reproduce like a plant. Can a plant imagine what it's like to move around freely like an animal? Now explain to an animal what morality is, how to struggle with free will etc. Only man, who is at the pinnacle of the physical world, can have such comprehension.

But then there are times when Hashem expresses His will in such a way that man cannot comprehend it. How come this righteous person must suffer? Why do the wicked thrive? How could that poor child have deserved that affliction? These are difficult questions which require a much higher level of insight to understand- something out of the grasp of finite, limited people.

When this happens, man needs to bow his head in submission and acknowledge his limitations. When it comes to understanding the divine plan, we comprehend as much as the rock comprehends what it means to be animate. It's hard to do- we all want to feel like we have some measure of control and understanding- but in this finite world it's the only intellectually honest thing we can do.

Says Rav Schwab, this is the greatness of Aharon. When faced with the unfathomable tragedy of his sons dying in such an unusual way, וידם אהרן Aharon acknowledged that he is like דומם, inanimate, in relation to the Divine. It was this acknowledgement and submission to Hashem's judgement which was the major accomplishment.

וידם אהרן- Aharon acknowledged that in relation to the Divine Plan, he understood as much as an inanimate rock did. This humility and submission was Aharon's greatness.

Silence is Golden

There's another aspect of silence which needs to be appreciated. The gemara uses the phrase "a good word is worth a coin, but silence is worth two coins." In English we say "speech is silver but silence is golden." What makes silence worth more than saying something?

Rav Moshe Shapiro zatza"l explained this as follows: speech is a way we communicate ideas. We have specific message in mind, and we express it in words so that the other person will understand that specific message. It limits the concept to the framework of the words. It's like writing down a statement- the words have only so much meaning in them. The word "cat" will not mean "dog;" each word expresses a specific idea.

Silence, on the other hand, is limitless. It's like having blank paper which can be filled up in an infinite number of ways. Silence is a way of expressing that a concept is too big and awesome to be confined to words.

Why is silence greater than speech? While Speech conveys a concept it limits the idea. Silence expresses that the idea is too great for mere words.

The pasuk says לך דומיה תהילה "To You (Hashem) silence is praise." At first glance this sounds strange- praise should include verbalizing Hashem's greatness. How can we praise Hashem through silence?

The above is the answer. When it comes to recognizing Hashem's greatness, silence is the only praise which can capture the infinite glory. To try and compress it into words would be belittling Hashem's greatness.

This is really the flip side of Rav Schwab's point. When I choose to remain silent in the face of Divine decrees, I'm doing two things: I'm expressing the awesomeness of Hashem's greatness, which is beyond my comprehension and can thus not be expressed in words; and I'm acknowledging that lack of comprehension and thus submitting myself to Hashem.

Remaining silent does two things: acknowledges that the Divine Plan is too great for words; and since it's greater than my comprehension, it conveys my humble submission to Hashem.

Yossi and the Farmer

How do we practically implement this concept? The next time we feel so overwhelmed by bad news, let's stop and think about the awesomeness of Hashem. Actually take a moment and think about the vastness of all creation, of how He has been running all of civilization for thousands of years, of the intricate calculations which He makes to ensure that everyone- and everything- receives exactly what it needs.

We then take this appreciation and think about how we cannot fathom the awesomeness of Hashem, but we know He has a plan and has the ability to carry it out. In this act of submission, we don't receive any answers; but we can come to live with the questions.

In the book "Lieutenant Birbaum" there's a parable Rav Elchonon Wasserman zatza"l hy"d said to explain why he can't explain suffering. The story is told of "Yossi", a city-dweller who came to a farmer and asked to observe how things work "out in the country." The farmer tells him he can stay and watch, but he's not allowed to ask any questions. Yossi agrees and moves to the farm.

The farmer shows his a field full of green grass. As Yossi watches the farmer takes his plough and tears up the field. Then he takes bags of plump grain and buries in the ground.

"What are you doing?!" cried Yossi, "the grain's going to get ruined!" But the farmer just said, "No questions."

After the winter Yossi accompanied the farmer out to the field, where they beheld the impressive sight of tall wheat stalks bursting forth in the field.

"Now I understand!" said a smiling Yossi. But the farmer just shook his head as he headed over to the stalks. And as Yossi watched aghast, the farmer cut down all the wheat, took it to the threshing floor and beat the stalks! Then he took the grain and ground it into flour.

After mixing the flour with water, the farmer shaped some loaves. Yossi started to compliment the farmer, but the farmer took them all and put them into the oven!

"What are you doing?!? cried Yossi. "You finally had a beautiful product and now you're burning it?!"

The farmer waited until he took the loaves out of the oven. Cutting a thick, warm slice of bread and liberally buttering it, he handed it to Yossi saying, "Now you finally understand."

This is what our silence represents: We know that we don't know, we can't yet know, and that some day we'll be able to finally understand. We don't yet have answers, but we can live with the questions.

This is what we should think about during our silence. We know that we don't understand, we know that we can't understand, and we know that one day we'll finally be privy to understand why everything had to happen the way it did. As Hashem Himself says, "See that I, I am He, there is no other god besides Me. I cause death and I bring to life, I wound and I heal..." (Devarim 32:39)

May we see the day that Hashem promised, "As I have taken you out of Egypt, so will I again do tremendous miracles" speedily in our days.

This article was written in memory of all those who have lost their lives during the Corona outbreak, and as a merit for a speedy recovery for those who are sick. The author would like to express his gratitude for all those true heroes on the front line, risking their lives to protect us. May we all come out of this healthy and safe.

Rabbi Binyomin Fishman is Director of Development and Programming for V’chol Bonayich Community Programs, based in Tel Zion, Israel. A graduate of Ohr LaGolah and kollel Toras Chaim, he is a highly regarded lecturer in halachah and hashkafah. He is involved in numerous projects that promote a balanced Torah lifestyle in Eretz Yisrael. He also runs the LITC, a networking and discussion forum for Bnei Torah professionals. For feedback about this article, to find out more about his projects or for information about speaking arrangements, he can be contacted at  contact@benfishman.org www.linkedin.com/in/BinyominBenFishman