Shemini | Silence and Connection Before Correction

וַתֵּ֥צֵא אֵ֛שׁ מִלִּפְנֵ֥י יְהֹוָ֖ה וַתֹּ֣אכַל אוֹתָ֑ם וַיָּמֻ֖תוּ לִפְנֵ֥י יְהֹוָֽה׃

And fire came forth from Eternal Presence and consumed them; thus they died before Eternal Presence.

Leviticus 10:2

 

This week's Torah opens on shemini, meaning the eighth day, a day anticipated to be joyful that turns horrific in a flash of fire. I've written previously about the mystery of the eighth day, https://torahattheintersection.com/shemini-coming-close/. Here we explore the responses to an unspeakable horror.

In the story, Aaron and all the Israelites watch as Aaron's two youngest sons, Nadav and Avihu, are consumed in the holy fire of their God and Aaron remains silent. The same fire that is the indispensable tool for survival in the desert of life and closeness to Eternal Presence devours what we love. Silence is like fire. It can burn or comfort. It can be the mark of empowerment or enslavement.

Aaron's silence comes after Moses' attempt at consolation:

וַיֹּ֨אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֜ה אֶֽל־אַהֲרֹ֗ן הוּא֩ אֲשֶׁר־דִּבֶּ֨ר יְהֹוָ֤ה ׀ לֵאמֹר֙ בִּקְרֹבַ֣י אֶקָּדֵ֔שׁ וְעַל־פְּנֵ֥י כׇל־הָעָ֖ם אֶכָּבֵ֑ד וַיִּדֹּ֖ם אַהֲרֹֽן׃

Then Moses said to Aaron, “This is what Eternal Presence meant by saying:
Through those near to Me I show Myself holy,
And gain glory before all the people.” And Aaron was silent.

Leviticus 10:3

Silence is like fire. It can burn or comfort. It can be an exercise of empowerment or enslavement.

Sometimes, silence can be a tragic acceptance of injustice. As African American writer and activist James Baldwin asked in The Fire Next Time, "Do I really want to be integrated into a burning house?"

Silence also can be an effective preparation for empowered action. We can imagine Aaron's silence as an inhale and exhale, steadying him to be present to his shock and pain without creating or touching his own trauma. Perhaps it was a transcendent moment for him, remaining silent to accompany his sons into the next world, beyond the veil of the identification and roles of this world.

Perhaps Aaron's silence was an attempt to integrate the energy of the seventh day, Shabbat, into the daily world where we mourn our losses and work hard. We don't mourn on Shabbat so that we have a day to sustain and fortify ourselves to care for each other and the world.

Aaron's silence was a response to Moses' explanation of what happened. Moses seems to try to elevate the experience to one that would be celebrated. We are all sadly familiar with being told, "feel better, there is a silver lining to this. No need to feel sad, this is actually a great thing. Hear my spiritual insight to feel better."

Rashi, the medieval Torah authority, refers to the Talmud to soften Moses' words:

Moses here said to Aaron: “My brother, Aaron! I knew that this House was to be sanctified by those who are beloved of the Omnipresent God and I thought it would be either through me or through thee; now I see that these (thy sons who have died) are greater than me and than thee!”

Leviticus Rabbah 12:2

Nonviolent Communication, other Rabbinic commentary and Buddhism suggest a different first response to another person's experience: presence.

Connect Before you Correct

Both Buddhism and Judaism use strong teaching parables to convey the importance of holding space for others' experience, including grief. Thomas Hubl speaks of the healing resonance and connection that arise between us when we have an experience of "I feel you feeling me."

NVC offers a technology for doing this, summed up in the words of NVC founder Marshall Rosenberg as "connect before you correct." We hold the intention of connecting deeply with the other person's experience. This means going beyond dualities such as right/wrong, appropriate/inappropriate, good/bad. Our intention is to connect and be present. Not to evaluate or fix or educate.

Torah scholar Avivah Zornberg draws on the teachings of the medieval Spanish rabbi, the Ramban, to explain the importance of learning to wait to "correct." In discussing this week's Torah portion, Shemini, the Ramban writes that Aaron's sons rushed toward the fire on the wrong day. The eighth day is a day like no other. It is not a day to offer what would be offered on another day. The offering that brings us unto close connection with Eternally Present is only possible in the here and the now.

This is exactly how the principle of connect before you correct works. You may have connected with this person yesterday,. And today, right now, renew the connection, keep renewing it, by connecting moment to moment.  We do this by staying present with their energy, their feelings and needs, their experiencing.

When we rush to correct or respond, before we really inhabit the other person's experience, we eliminate the potential for new, unimagined solutions to arise. As Ramban tells the story, Aaron's sons didn't understand that the beauty of the moment would be revealed when Eternal Presence invited them in. They rushed in before mutual connection created space for intimacy and newness.

My late teacher Robert Gonzales taught that empathy can be understood as "presence without pressure." This is the meaning of "connect before you correct." When we slow down, rest in silence, breathe and come into presence with another person, the possibility of transformation will arise. The same goes for our self healing. When we slow down and allow ourselves to feel what we have walled off the possibility of deep healing arises.

A friend asked me yesterday, why would I want to feel compassion or empathy toward Trump or Putin. (Who would you question having empathy toward? Israelis? Palestinians? White people? Black people? Immigrants? Sexual offenders? You see where the duality takes us. There is no end.) I replied, "Because I believe the fundamental transformation that I envision and pray for can only come from that depth of empathy and the connection that comes from there. Because we need new solutions to global problems. Solutions that I trust can arise from creating new ways of being together, of combining experiences and insights. "

Yesterday I watched the confirmation hearings of Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson and felt deep admiration for her courage to express empathy and understanding for an 18-year-old boy who collected sexualized photographs online. And I looked deeply at the Republican lawmakers who bashed her for that. I look deeply at their vision of a world that condemns and punishes. And I redouble my own commitment to showing up in the energy of empathy and compassion rather than punishment and revenge. My response to my friend was, because I trust that what the world needs is more empathy, more empathic presence.

How can we transcend the duality and fear that an expression of empathy and understanding in the face of horror will lead to submission to it? How do empathy and compassion contribute to alleviating the roots of harm, hatred and violence?

Jewish tradition speaks to this by highlighting the need to develop patience. Robert Gonzales referred to this as developing the skills and capacity to "get off automatic pilot." In the space between stimulus and response, we breathe, we remind ourselves of our intention to connect, we calm and restore our nervous systems. We refill our own empathy cups, as senior NVC teacher Rita Herzog taught us at Elat Chayyim, the Jewish Renewal Retreat Center.

In Torah, Aaron was an integral part of building the golden calf. The rabbis call this a "sin" that led to human suffering as much as the expulsion from the Garden of Eden in the Book of Genesis. The golden calf story recounts how the people became impatient and fearful and built a golden idol.

How do we develop the patience to take space instead of resorting to false objects of worship? One way is to cultivate the capacity to be with our own feelings and needs and to value presence with others' feelings and needs. To be present responding. The challenge and responsibility is to trust that holding silent space will not render us mute in the face of our own quest for truth and justice. That it will open us to deep connection to what is present and needed.

The Silence of the Sleeping Ocean

We live in a world where silence can feed complicity and be a mark of powerlessness or a mark of abuse of power over another.

And we also can experience silence as a refuge before powerful action. Silence is presence. Depending on how the story resonates with us, Aaron's silence came from either a shocking muteness or his capacity to remain present with all of life's injustices and trust that Connecting Presence will come to him.

Many years ago my teacher Thay Giac Thanh, a brother-monk to Thich Nhat Hanh, looked out to us at a retreat and asked, "What is the sound of the sleeping ocean?"

Thay Giac Thanh knew about the sound of the sleeping ocean being a refuge or a terrible place. He was a refugee on a boat in the Great China Sea, fleeing Vietnam in the 1980's. The boat was captured by pirates from Thailand. Thay sat and looked deeply at the pirates. He saw their vulnerability and humanity. He saw they were like him. Then the pirates moved to kidnap a girl on the boat. Thay stood up and threw off his cloak, revealing his thin body in monk's robes. "Take me," he shouted to the pirates, "Take me, not the girl."

The pirates were astonished and froze. They couldn't cross the line of sacrificing a monk, and fled the boat. The refugees were rescued by an international boat.

Here is a practice of looking deeply and being present before responding.

Connect Before You Correct: An Exercise from Nonviolent Communication

• Ask a friend if they would enjoy sitting together while you listen to connect to what they speak about. It could be something involving you or something else. (If it's involving you, do your practices beforehand to resource yourself to listen to them with empathy.)
• Sit in a quiet place with your friend
• Remind yourself that you want to be "present without pressure"; your intention is to sit and listen as an empathic presence
• CLICK HERE for a handy reminder sheet of "Empathy Blockers"
• As your friend shares, notice when the urge to fix or otherwise "add" to their experience arises in you. Practice inhaling and exhaling, as Aaron did. Return to presence.
• After you sense through their body language or a pause that they may be finished, ask them, is there more you want to share right now?
• When you trust that they are ready to shift, ask if it would be ok for you to share what's up for you in the situation. Make sure you trust that their "yes," is willing and authentic for them.
• Share what is up for you by speaking with "I" statements. Something like, "when I hear...I feel...because I need....and would you tell me how it is for you to hear what I am sharing?"(Remember, honesty in Nonviolent Communication doesn't mean I tell you what I think is wrong with you.)

Connect Before you Correct, from Talmud*

When Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai’s son died, his students came in to comfort him. Rabbi Eliezer came in and sat before him and said:

My master, if you please, may I say something?

He said: Speak.

So he said: Adam the first person had a son who died and he accepted comfort. And how do we know that he accepted comfort? For it says (Genesis 4:25), “And Adam knew his wife again.” So you, too, should accept comfort.

He replied: Is it not enough that I have my own pain but that you need to remind me of Adam’s pain as well?

Rabbi Yehoshua came in and said to him: If you please, may I say something before you?

He said: Speak.

So he said: Job had sons and daughters, and they all died on the same day, and he accepted comfort. So you, too, should accept comfort. And how do we know that Job accepted comfort? For it says (Job 1:21), “The Eternal has given, and the Eternal has taken away. Blessed is the name of the Eternal.”

He replied: Is it not enough that I have my own pain but that you have to remind me of Job’s pain as well?

Rabbi Yosei came in and sat before him and said: My master, if you please, may I say something?

He said: Speak.

So he said: Aaron had two older sons and they both died on the same day, and he accepted comfort, as it says (Leviticus 10:3), “And Aaron was silent,” and silence always indicates comfort.

He replied: Is it not enough that I have my own pain but that you have to remind me of Aaron’s pain as well?

Rabbi Shimon came in and said:

My master, if you please, may I say something?

He said: Speak.

So he said: King David had a son who died, and he accepted comfort. So you, too, should accept comfort. And how do we know that David accepted comfort? For it says (II Samuel 12:24), “David comforted his wife Bath Sheba, and he came to her and lay with her, and she gave birth to another son, and called him Solomon.” So you, too, should accept comfort.

He replied: Is it not enough that I have my own pain but that you have to remind me of King David’s pain as well?

Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah came in.

When [Rabbi Yohanan] saw him, he said to his steward: Take this vessel, and follow me to the bathhouse, because this is a great man, and I will not be able to withstand him.1Going to the bathhouse might indicate that Rabbi Yohanan’s mourning is about to end, as Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah will surely find a way to provide solace.

So [Rabbi Elazar] came in and sat before [Rabbi Yohanan] and said:

Let me give you a parable. To what can this be compared? [It can be compared] to a person to whom the king gave a deposit to hold. Every day he would cry and scream and say, Oy, when will I be free of this deposit? So it is with you, Rabbi. You had a son who read from the Torah, the Prophets and the Writings; the Mishnah; Halakhah; and Aggadah; and then was taken from the world free of sin.

[Must you, then, accept consolation when you have returned a deposit whole?]

He said: Rabbi Elazar, my son, you have comforted me as people are supposed to.

When they all left, Elazar said: I am going to Damasit, a beautiful place with good, sweet water.

They said: We will go to Yavneh, a place where there is an abundance of scholars who love the Torah. So he went to Damasit, the beautiful place with good, sweet water, and his reputation in Torah study diminished. And they went to Yavneh, the place where there was an abundance of scholars who all loved the Torah, and their reputations in Torah study grew.

*This story is from Avot D'Rabbi Nathan, a Jewish aggadic work usually printed with minor tractates of the Talmud. (Likely c.700–900 CE)