What We Cannot Speak About

Do you use silence as a weapon? For example, have you ever subjected a spouse or friend to the silent treatment? If you have, did it work for you? Did you accomplish your goal using it? What was your goal? People use silence as a weapon to express anger or frustration or gain control of a relationship. It is a form of emotional manipulation..

However, it is not only individuals who use silence as a weapon. It is employed by groups of people as well. Some religious communities, for example, utilize it as one tool in an arsenal of weaponry called shunning. Here, silence may enforce doctrinal conformity, preserve a community’s values, or correct or discipline an individual. It can even be used out of fear of contamination. In the 17th century, the Jews of Amsterdam excommunicated Spinoza. At least part of their motivation was fear that his teachings could contaminate members of the Amsterdam Jewish community.

Whether an individual or a community employs silence as a weapon, its effects can be devastating. First, the relationship is damaged, sometimes permanently. The person subjected to it undergoes emotional distress. But emotional consequences do not affect just the person subjected to silence. The person who uses it as a weapon may also suffer, for the issue that generated its use may not be genuinely resolved. Additionally, rather than being a form of communication, silence, when used as a weapon, is a clear sign that communication has broken down.

Some years ago, I was caught up in a dispute between two rabbis over the use of silence by one of them. I admired and respected both men, studied with both, prayed with both, and loved them both. In addition to being teachers employed by academic institutions, both men were shul rabbis, rabbis in charge of a congregation. In this latter capacity, they played a major role in what goes on within the walls of their synagogues. Part of this role involves setting the tone of davening (prayer) and how religious holidays are observed. And it was here, in the observance of a particular day, that the dispute arose between the two rabbis. 

Holocaust Remembrance Day, called Yom HaShoah in Hebrew, is a day specifically set aside to honor the six million Jews who died in the Holocaust. By the Gregorian calendar, the date occurs in April or May. By the Jewish calendar, it appears on the 27th of Nisan, the Hebrew date of the beginning of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising (April 19, 1943). The day is a solemn day kept by synagogues in various ways. Often, there are special memorial services involving candle lighting by survivors or the descendants of survivors in memory of the victims and the reading of victims’ names. Frequently, guest speakers share their personal experiences of the Shoah. Sometimes, there are musical or educational programs. And almost all places observe a “moment of silence.” In Israel, sirens are sounded at 10 a.m. on the morning of Yom HaShoah. Everything comes to a halt, and people stand in silence for two minutes.

So, what was the problem between the two rabbis? At the time of their dispute, one Rabbi believed silence was the only appropriate response to the Shoah. So, on Yom HaShoah, he would occupy the sanctuary of his synagogue for 24 hours and maintain silence. He invited members of his community to join him in the sanctuary for some part of that time. Whenever I think of this practice, I am reminded of the opening verses of Chapter 10 in the Biblical book of Leviticus:

And the sons of Aaron, Nadab and Abihu, took each of them his fire-pan and put fire in it and placed incense upon it and brought forward alien fire before the LORD, which He had not charged them. And fire came out from before the LORD and consumed them, and they died before the LORD. And Moses said to Aaron, “This is just what the LORD spoke, saying, ‘Through those close to Me shall I be hallowed and in all the people’s presence shall I be honored.'” And Aaron was silent.

Alter, Robert. The Five Books of Moses: A Translation with Commentary (p. 586). W. W. Norton & Company. Kindle Edition. 

“And Aaron was silent.” Sometimes, silence appears to be the only reasonable response to almost unbearable grief. The Austrian philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein (1880-1951) wrote in his book Tractatus Logic-Philosophicus, “What we cannot speak about we must pass over in silence.” In the Rabbis dispute, I believe that was the powerful message one Rabbi meant to convey in his observance of Yom HaShoah.

But what of the other Rabbi? Why was he so upset by the idea of the observance of silence on Yom HaShoah? He was the child of Holocaust survivors. He was fully acquainted with the destructive impact of silence on the part of many Germans during the lead-up to and the execution of the Shoah. But not only the Germans; indeed, the world’s silence was deafening. There is a saying attributed to the British political writer and statesman Edmund Burke (1728-1797) that is relevant, I believe: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” For present purposes, that statement could read, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of the Nazis was for good people to say nothing, to remain silent.” For the second Rabbi, silence was not a commemoration of the Shoah but a desecration of it.

To some extent, I believe the crux of the dispute between the two Rabbis was a misunderstanding that they were discussing different aspects of silence. What they had in common, though, was the acknowledgment of the power of silence, whether used as a weapon, as I mentioned at the beginning of the post, or a tool of introspection.

Recently, I have adopted the practice of silence with certain guidelines, agreed to with my wife, for spiritual purposes. Next time, I will talk about this use of silence, what prompted it, and how I have begun incorporating it into my daily routine.

All the best,
Gershon