Judaism has always been about community and connection and for generations the structure supporting this has been strong verbal communication. Talking, singing, arguing, praying, learning are all essential to Judaism and all involve some level of sound. Even our “silent” prayers are best said out loud, but to ourselves. In the centuries of talking, there seems very little room for silence in Judaism. A recent teaching from Sefaria crystallizes why the opposite is true.
There is clear and strong support for silence among rabbinic thinkers, and exemplified by the Prophetic writings and a valuable practice today.
Rav Shimon is quoted in Pirkei Avot (a collection of brief wisdom statements compiled in the early 3rd century C.E.) as saying that despite his deep learning and being surrounded by wise teachers, “nothing is better for a person than silence.” This quiet time is needed to internalize and actualize the teachings of Torah. Rabbi Akiva supports silence as a protective hedge to one’s wisdom. In each case, silence is not a goal, but rather a necessary insulating layer around other important values.
Elijah the Prophet, is far less intellectual and more experiential about silence. In a defining story found in I Kings 19:11, he is on the run for his life and, after a short journey in anguish, prays for relief. He has a Divine encounter in nature which begins in noise and ends in near silence:
“There was a great and mighty wind, splitting mountains and shattering rocks by GOD’s power; but GOD was not in the wind. After the wind—an earthquake; but GOD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake—fire; but GOD was not in the fire. And after the fire—a soft murmuring sound.” (I Kings 19:11-12)
The sound he hears, also translated as “still small voice” (ק֖וֹל דְּמָמָ֥ה דַקָּֽה) is also understood to be silence, with only the residual ringing in his ears. It is only after the chaos that he finds silence, and with it a renewed sense of purpose, and the energy to continue on.
In the modern world, as a part of our Adventure Class for B’nai Mitzvah preparation, we take the students on a Full Moon Hike, which includes a segment in silence. This act of connecting Jewishly to nature, without much vision and without any speech, is a powerful experiment for students. They encounter the solitary quiet that can lead to deeper connections with the world, each other and themselves. The discussion following this silence focused on the Jewish rituals around the New Moon, and our connections to the cycles of nature.
It is important to note that silence in all of these cases is not the final goal, but rather a conduit to something else. Jews do not strive to exist in silence but rather to be comfortable enough in it to allow it to guide us. For the rabbis of Pirkei Avot, it helps protect and solidify their learning. For Elijah, it is a reassurance of connection, which leads him on a Divine mission. And for our Adventure Judaism students (and chaperones) it is a rediscovery of our tradition’s deep connection to the cycles of the natural world.
For all of us, there can be a space for silence, so long as we ask the central Jewish question: Having been/done/experienced this, how I am going to act to make the world a better place?
