Silence
by Rabbi Katy Z. Allen
Aaron’s sons break G!d’s rules, offering alien, unrequested fire. Fire shoots forth from G!d and consumes them. Moses says to his brother, “This is what the Lord meant when He said, ‘Through those near to Me I show myself holy, and gain glory before all the people.’ And Aaron was silent.” (Lev. 10.3)
G!d shows the Divine self to be holy through those who come closest to that Presence, and when G!d’s rules are flouted, in particular by those closest to G!d, G!d shows the Divine power in response, and everyone witnesses the Authority of the Unnamable.
In the face of this Authority, as his sons lie dead before him, Aaron is silent.
Silence.
Silence holds sacred our deepest feelings…our deepest despair…our deepest sadness…our deepest prayers…our deepest love…our deepest joy…
Aaron is silent. G!d has spoken through deed.
Today, the Earth speaks through deeds. It speaks with rains and floods. It speaks with hot summer days in April. It speaks with nodding jonquils. It speaks with hurricanes and fires and blizzards and droughts and lovely spring days and pristine snow-covered mountaintops and so much more.
In the face of the voice of the Earth speaking through deed, I am silent.
I have tried to speak, crying out about my beloved, the Earth. But my voice is not heard. It is too loud. It is too soft. It is too many. It is too alone.
I can cry no longer. My heart cannot hold the pain. My heart yearns for peace and tranquility, even in the face of storms and open wounds, even in the face of death and destruction.
I can no longer cry. My heart must rest.
The Earth is changing. Its seas and its atmosphere are warming. Its air and its rivers are ever-more poisoned. Its oceans are filling with human debris. Its deserts are expanding. Its biodiversity is dropping.
The Earth is changing.
The Earth we have known is dying.
I no longer can cry.
Like Aaron, I am silent.
I mourn.
I love.
And I accept.
“Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” (Ps. 30:5)
In the morning I find joy. I find peace. I find new purpose. I find a new voice, not too loud and not too soft. No longer am I too many or alone. I am together, with myself, with the One, with All.
“Adonai spoke to Aaron….‛you must distinguish between the sacred and the profane…”’ (Ex. 10:8-10)
I accept, and, amidst the dying, my heart distinguishes sacred from profane; my heart finds peace.
May it be so – for us, and not for the Earth.
© 2010 by Katy Z. Allen
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I struggled with the last line of this d'var - to put it in? To take it out? And I am still struggling -- because of the "Earth" part of it, not because of the "us" part of it. Yes, may we find a voice of truth within us that allows us to speak from a place of peace and certainty and not to try to browbeat people. But on the other side, No, it really is too late to prevent change of some kind from happening. It is already happening, and our admission of that and acceptance of that is part of what can help us reach a place of greater internal peace and make it possible for us to be effective in keeping the Earth from becoming a place that is totally unsuitable for human habitation. So, with this added to the conversation, I leave the last line in.
ReplyDeleteKaty