Lean Into Silence

And Aaron was silent.” (Leviticus 10)

I have always been puzzled by Aaron’s silence. After the death of his sons Nadav and Avihu he does not speak. He does not offer a complaint against God. He does not raise his voice in understandable, and justifiable, anger. Instead, he is silent.

And while I do not believe anyone should criticize a mourner or suggestion that one emotion is better than another, I am perplexed by his silence. Stoicism in the face of grief seems misplaced. It is not a sign of strength to hold back tears and be strong for others. Tears, and sobbing, complaint and even anger, are greater testaments to strength, than the withholding of emotions.

If silence is appropriate it should instead be worn by those offering comfort to the mourners. Too often, well-meaning friends attempt to placate the pain, and grief, of friends with inappropriate words. Cliches like “You have to be strong,” or “You will get over it” or even “He is in a better place” or “At least she is no longer in pain” are not helpful.

Instead, practice silence. Listen. Offer a hug. And if one must say anything, recount a story, or a memory about the person who died.

Don’t lean into cliches. They do not work. More often than not these phrases hurt. Words cannot fix every heartache. Be present. Stand alongside your friend. Accept the silence however awkward it might appear. Affirm your friend’s pain. Don’t rush in with words. Even the most well-chosen words fall short.

The rabbis suggest that Aaron’s silence indicates his acceptance of God’s judgment. I am not so sure. I wonder. Is this why the Mourner’s Kaddish does not mention death. This prayer is instead piles of praise for God. “Blessed, praised, honored, exalted, extolled, glorified, adored, and lauded the name of the Holy Blessed One, beyond all earthly words and songs of blessing, praise, and comfort.”

And the congregation responds, “Amen.” We affirm the grief.

Is this possible? Even the Kaddish struggles to acknowledge the death we confront.

The Kaddish likewise falls silent. And all we can say is, “Amen.” We stand with you.

This week I am going to lean into this silence.

Sometimes, there are no words.