After Election Day, our brethren have done everything over the past weeks except bentch Gomel. Well, perhaps some did, but I don’t think they asked a shailah. We did go, as we say in the Haggadah, from afeilah to ohr gadol. We still have to daven that the afeilah is truly over and that the great light will indeed heal and not burn. We begged in the Tachanun of Monday and Thursday, “Our Father, the merciful Father – show us an omen for good…” Along with many others, I believe that Hashem did show us an ois letovah. But what should we do now?
If I may be so bold as to suggest: We should be silent. In the past few weeks, we have heard so much foolishness and malice, inanity and malevolence, that instead of reacting in kind, we should follow the wisdom of Pirkei Avos, “I have found nothing better for myself than silence,” (1:17), and the even more pithy, “A protective fence for wisdom is silence” (3:17). My rebbi, Rav Yitzchok Hutner zt”l, taught us a profound lesson at this time of year (Pachad Yitzchok, Chanukah 8:5–7). He shared the following moshol, which was also a lesson in rebbi-talmid relations:
“There is a group of students before their rebbi, thirstily drinking in his words. However, one of these talmidim had the unique ability to discern his rebbi’s thoughts when he was silent. The fact is that the depth of the rebbi’s thoughts is much more profound than those he reveals when he speaks. For this talmid, the moment that his rebbi transitions from speech to silence is a great opportunity for spiritual growth.”
The rosh yeshiva relates this singular form of learning to our relationship with Hashem Himself. He reminds us that Hashem “ordained silence upon Himself” with the words “Mi chamocha ba’eilim Hashem – Who is like You among the heavenly powers?” (Shemos 15:11). Chazal (Gittin 56b) interpret this phrase as “Who is like You among the ilmim (mute) who are silent.” The Gemara goes on to explain that this refers to Hashem’s silence in the face of the outrages perpetrated by Titus in the Kodesh Hakodoshim. Specifically, this means that the Creator suffers the ignominies of chillul Hashem in silence.
Let us explore this unique but extremely difficult method of emulating Hashem. Rav Aharon Dovid Goldberg, rosh yeshivas Telz, offers an amazing insight. Basing himself on a line in the Gra’s famous letter to his family (Iggeres HaGra, page 132), he asks a powerful question: During all the years when Yaakov Avinu and Yosef Hatzaddik lived together in Mitzrayim, why didn’t Yaakov ever ask Yosef how he had gotten to Egypt? This was a father and son who were so close that Chazal tell us that whatever happened to one happened to the other, and Yosef was a spiritual continuation of his father. And yet he never asked. Rav Goldberg deduces from the Gra’s letter that it is forbidden to speak unnecessary words, even if they are not the types of speech that are explicitly forbidden, such as lashon hara. Therefore, Yaakov Avinu saw no purpose in such a discussion and thus never raised the issue. This is one aspect of the importance of silence when there is no positive purpose in speaking.
But there is an even deeper reason for keeping silent, when possible. We all know that Aharon’s reaction upon the death of his sons, Nodov and Avihu, was silence. A short time after the end of Churban Europa, when the horrific news of the murder of the Six Million became known, a public meeting took place in London to take stock of the tragedy. Some well-meaning people stood up and connected the calamity to what they described as the diminution of religious observance in Klal Yisroel in the years leading up to World War II. However, Rav Yechezkel Abramsky, author of the Chazon Yechezkel on Tosefta, stood up and demurred: “My dear friends, we are all shattered. But we must remember what happened when Nodov and Avihu died. Aharon was silent because at the time that tragedy strikes, our most eloquent response is restraint and being speechless. Of course, we should each search our hearts and souls, but chas veshalom that we assign blame at a time like this” (Ohel Moshe, Vayikra, page 194).
I believe that we, too, should still be in the mode of muteness, as Hashem taught us. We shouldn’t cast aspersions upon anyone, but we should also not gloat over a victory at the polls. Just as we have tried to control ourselves and not blame anyone except our sworn enemies for the immense tragedies we have recently endured, we should not now engage in self-approbation or exultation. This is a time to be grateful but not jubilant. Hashem has indeed shown us a good sign, but just as yeshuas Hashem keheref ayin, redemption can come in a moment, the opposite can also, chas veshalom, happen if we prove unworthy.
But we can dig just a bit deeper. The Chasam Sofer (Haggadah, page 167) proves that in the simanim given by Rabi Yehudah in the Haggadah, detzach adash, the word adash refers to a lentil, which has no mouth and is therefore silent. The Chasam Sofer states that this represents our reaction of silent awe and amazement at Hashem’s miracles and salvation for us. Yes, even when we seem to win and Hashem is smiling at us, our first reaction should not be words or even praise, but, as the posuk (Shemos 14:14) says, “Hashem will do battle for you, and you should be silent.” Now, we can ask: Aren’t we supposed to sing praise, recite Hallel, and proclaim our gratitude? The answer would seem to be, as the Gra teaches us on the posuk (Tehillim 13:6), “I will sing to Hashem, for He dealt kindly with me,” meaning “when all is complete and the redemption is finalized.” The words ki gomal alay mean that we are relieved that the geulah is here and we can indeed now exult. However, we must be careful not to sing with all our might until we can say ki gomal alay. Until then, silence is the most eloquent of songs.
We recently commemorated the yahrzeit of Mammeh Rochel. Chazal (Esther Rabbah 6:12) tell us that Esther followed the path of her ancestor, Rochel Imeinu. Just as Rochel Imeinu practiced silence, so did Esther not reveal her lineage as Mordechai had requested. The Sefas Emes (Purim 5648, page 141) relates this to the Mishnah noted above: that silence is good for the body. He teaches that it is specifically for the body, not for the soul. Perhaps one meaning is, as the Chofetz Chaim explains in the introduction to his Sefer Shemiras Halashon, that the body is prone to misusing the power of speech. However, when a person practices silence, he uplifts the glory of the body through proper speech.
This may be understood more deeply with the Targum upon the words that man was created as a speaking creature. The Chofetz Chaim explains that the reason the Torah is so adamant that we not abuse the power of speech is that this is the glory of man, which separates him from the beasts. For this reason, proper speech – such as prayer, Torah study, soothing and complimenting others, and other good traits – justifies our creation as human beings. Misuse of this power is the worst form of wasting and abusing this amazing gift.
Perhaps after we have been silent for a while, we can begin once again to be very careful about each word we say. When we are not davening or learning, let’s ensure that each word counts. We can uplift those around us with a kind word or words of chizuk and encouragement. We should certainly avoid all negative words, let alone tirades, spontaneous affronts, or verbal abuse.
To conclude with my rebbi’s connection between our silence and that of Hashem, let us learn from our Creator. If He could refrain from responding to insults and indignity directed at Himself, how much more so should we strive to remain silent in the face of disdain.
We know that when we are silent in the face of being insulted, it is an opportune moment for giving and receiving brachos. Even more than a sandek or even a rebbe, someone who overcomes the urge to respond in kind is capable of giving the greatest of blessings. This seems to be an eis ratzon. Let’s use it to either remain silent or to utter powerful words of solace, comfort, and chizuk to all those in need of the kedusha of the holiest of our senses: the incredible power of speech itself.
