March 26, 2011 | 20 Adar II 5771

It seems difficult to believe for those of us who are Baby Boomers, but it has been over forty-five years since Paul Simon wrote the song, “The Sound of Silence.” “The Sound of Silence” – the lyrics were a bit eerie.  The title itself was at one and the same time striking and puzzling.

In today’s Torah reading we are introduced to the Torah’s version of the sound of silence. Yes, like Paul Simon’s song, it too is puzzling. But this time it is also heart-wrenching. And it has made me wonder about the sound of other silences very present yet never noted in this story.

The Israelites have gathered “bayom hashemini” on the eighth-day of a celebration to commemorate the building of the desert Tabernacle and to welcome the Kohanim, the spiritual leaders of the Israelites, into their roles. Moses gives instructions to his brother Aaron and Aaron’s sons regarding the sacrifices they are to offer.   Detail after detail, the Torah describes the manner in which Aaron and his sons prepared the animals and then offered them…. Every last detail done according to Moses’ instruction.

Then a wondrous thing occurred – “Vayera kevod-Adonai el kol ha-am” (Lev. 9:24)…”The presence of God appeared to all the people!”

What an incredibly spiritually-uplifting moment! And then the people shouted as they bowed down! But very quickly, shouts of joy and wonder were replaced by the sound of troubling words and then by silence.

Two of Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, brought what the Torah calls “aish zarah,” “alien fire,” before God.   Suddenly a fire identified with God incinerates the two men.

Now Moses (remember – Uncle Moses) offers unsettling words to his brother Aaron; perhaps to explain what had happened; perhaps to bring comfort to Aaron, but words that probably made a bad situation only worse. And Aaron? What did he say at this moment of inexplicable horror?  How did he respond to his brother?

The Torah tells us – “Vayidom Aharon” (Lev. 10:3) – “Aaron was silent.” Aaron’s silence is deafening. It is heart-wrenching. And it is so real…exactly as we would imagine the response of any parent in such a moment of utter devastation.

I find another silence quite striking, and there is a question in this silence that begs to be answered. Where is Aaron’s wife?  Was she standing there next to him? Did she open her mouth?  If so, what did she say?  The Torah tells us nothing…absolutely nothing. Why is that?  Why doesn’t the Torah even mention her?

Can anyone here tell me the name of Aaron’s wife? Elisheva bat Aminadav – it’s right there in Exodus Ch. 6. And that, my friends, is the sum total of what we know about Aaron’s wife…her name. The Torah never mentions her again. Why don’t we hear Elisheva? Why don’t we hear her voice or even the sound of her silence?

Aviva Zornberg, one of the really fine Bible teachers of our age, says that the written Torah, that scroll from which Cody read a short time ago, is only half of the Torah. It’s the men’s half.

The other half, the women’s half, is largely absent from the Torah that you and I know. Only snippets of it can be seen, for example, in Hagar’s tears when she believes her son Ishmael will soon die or in the cunning actions of Rebecca when she helps her son, Jacob, to wrest the blessing of the firstborn from his brother, Esau.

Dr. Zornberg suggests that the other half of the Torah is revealed as we ask questions like the one I asked – “Where is the voice of Elisheva when her sons are executed?” Do you understand the assertion beneath Zornberg’s statement about the “missing” portion of the Torah? It’s an indictment, isn’t it?

The Torah that we venerate, the Torah that I said earlier in our service is the strongest symbol of God’s presence among us has, in effect, silenced Elisheva and others. It does not see them. It ignores their pain. Is that the Torah’s intention?  - No. But it is still its effect as we read some of its narratives.

Where, for example, is the voice of Zipporah, Moses’ wife, who seems to be largely ignored by him? Where is the voice of Dinah, Jacob’s daughter, who is raped? They and their voices are largely absent from Torah. A tradition has silenced them. They are not alone.

Sadly, many people who suffer today in one way or another have made themselves largely invisible or silent. We often do not see those who are troubled.  We do not recognize their pain. We do not give them appropriate attention. And so, like Elisheva, they have effectively disappeared from the narratives of today.

To paraphrase Aviva Zornberg, Elisheva’s Torah never reached us. The Torah that did reach us ignored her. Who are “they?”  Who are the Elishevas of today?

They are many different types of people…often victims at the hands of others or of circumstances. They are victims of domestic violence who we have silenced because we did not take their claims seriously or sufficiently protect them. They are victims of an economy gone bad, people whose self-pride has silenced them. They are often too proud to ask for support and probably concerned that, if they do, we will think less of them. They are the victims of social ostracism…people who are different from us and with whom we would rather not associate. We push them away, and they effectively disappear.

We give voice to Elisheva and these people I have just mentioned along with others who have been silenced when we open our hearts to them, listen, and reach out to them. After all, that’s really what they want – a caring connection.

Aviva Zornberg says that we can reveal the presence of Elisheva and others in the Torah when we ask questions.

The truth is – that Torah Scroll – that is our Torah. It is the Torah that we see and read. It is the Torah in which we find sublime values; the Torah that is the well-springs of our tradition. And, yes, it’s the Torah that, at times, seems to ignore or does not hear some voices.

Let us do tikkun. Let us hear Elisheva. Let us hear those voices in our world today and respond in healing ways.

Amen.