Neshama Sheli

When Should We Remain Silent, and When Should We Speak?

We have spoken about the value of silence, of being able to restrain oneself—and say nothing. But surely we should not always remain silent? How can we tell when Torah law requires us to respond, and when to remain silent? The Gemara gives an important rule on this subject. As we know, the Talmud is full of disputes between the Sages. Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel. Abaye…

Rabbi Shimshon Dovid Pinkus

When Should We Remain Silent, and When Should We Speak?

We have spoken about the value of silence, of being able to restrain oneself—and say nothing.

But surely we should not always remain silent? How can we tell when Torah law requires us to respond, and when to remain silent?

The Gemara gives an important rule on this subject. As we know, the Talmud is full of disputes between the Sages. Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel. Abaye and Rava. Rabbi Yochanan and Reish Lakish. And others… To this day, it is practically impossible to find two sages who agree on every law of the Torah. And that is the beauty of the holy Torah.

But it was not always so. Before the time of Shammai and Hillel, the understanding of Torah was so clear that there were no disputes at all!

The first dispute arose between Shammai and Hillel over bringing a peace offering (korban shelamim) and a burnt offering (korban olah) on festivals. (Beit Shammai held that a burnt offering may not be brought on festivals, while a peace offering may be brought, but without the laying on of hands. Beit Hillel held that both offerings may be brought on festivals with the laying on of hands).

The Gemara relates (Beitzah, 20b): “One of Hillel's students brought a burnt offering into the Temple courtyard, intending to lay his hands on it. A student of Shammai saw this and said to him, ‘What is this laying on of hands?’ [‘You want to lay your hands on it contrary to Shammai's opinion?’—Rashi]. He said to him, ‘What is this silence?’ [‘You should have remained silent, yet you are not remaining silent?’—Rashi]. He rebuked him, silencing him, and went on his way.”

The Gemara continues: “Abaye said: ‘From this we learn that when a Torah scholar hears a rebuke from his fellow, he does not say more in response than he has heard. They said to him, “What is this laying on of hands?” and he answered, “What is this silence?”’”

This is an important rule. Sometimes there are situations in which we cannot remain unresponsive, but responses can take different forms.

If someone has wronged me, I can respond to the specific act, or I can give free rein to my negative character traits.

A person has a great deal of anger and malice inside, but in trying to be polite, he cannot be angry and shout all the time. He waits for the right occasion to let himself go, break through the “dam” of politeness, and pour out all the anger that has built up inside him.

The right response is one proportionate to the particular act.

A two-meter offense should receive a two-meter response. If, in response to a minor offense, you accuse the person who hurt you of every imaginable wrongdoing, bringing up the entire history of hurts inflicted on you over the past several years, there can be no justification for such a response. A person who responds this way must work hard to develop the quality of silence.

This is explained in the Gemara. Shammai's students asked, “What is this laying on of hands?” Hillel's students could have answered, “Bear in mind that you are destroying the Jewish people with your disputes, and this has been going on for years…” and continued at length in the same vein. Instead, they said only, “What is this silence?” precisely measuring their response so that it matched the offense.

Abaye said of this that their response was the response of a Torah scholar: it is permitted and even commanded. But if a response to an offense opens the door to accumulated anger and negative character traits, it is better to remain silent. This is the rule our Sages, of blessed memory, taught us.

Sometimes we are permitted to respond, but our response should match the offense rather than become a “generator” of negative character traits.

For example, a wife asks her husband to buy a bag of milk at the store on his way home from kollel, because the baby needs it. Given the importance of the errand, she reminds him three times before he leaves the house. Then he returns home, and it turns out that he forgot to buy the milk. Now the stores have closed, and she will have to ask a neighbor for milk. And this is not the first time it has happened. The same thing happened yesterday and the day before. It really is infuriating!

Let us imagine her response. Here he comes into the house empty-handed. There is no milk.

– What happened? – I forgot… – Why did you forget? – Well, I got caught up talking to someone and wasn't paying attention…

Let us consider whether she should remain silent or whether she is permitted to respond after all. Her response should follow what the Gemara tells us. If she can limit herself to saying, “Why didn't you buy the milk? You know our child needs it; it's very important. Please try not to forget next time,” in other words, measure out a response proportionate to the act—two meters of response for two meters of hurt—then she may, and even should, respond.

But if he comes home without milk and she lashes out at him, “You're always forgetting!” and starts recounting the entire history of his forgetfulness, while also recalling other hurts he has inflicted over the past several years—“In all the time I've known you, you've never thought about me…”—and he has something to say too… In that case, this is not a response to a particular act. Until now, there was simply a dam holding back the anger building up inside her, and this incident with the milk broke the dam, letting everything pour out. This is not a response, but a manifestation of negative character traits.

This rule applies not only to marital relationships, but also to raising children.

When a child breaks a window, should we respond? Of course we should. But if we are commanded to respond, why do our responses cause so much trouble? The answer is this. Our Sages, of blessed memory, teach that “words that come from the heart enter the heart.” And the way they leave the heart affects how they are received. When a father responds disproportionately, the child takes in his father's anger and other negative character traits, which have accumulated inside the father and found an outlet when the broken window burst the dam. And if accumulated irritation is poured out onto a child every day, it leads to terrible results.

Only if a person knows how to measure out a response precisely so that it matches the child's wrongdoing is he permitted, and even commanded, to respond.

But if a person feels that he is boiling inside and that the moment he opens his mouth, all his accumulated anger will pour out, he should lock his mouth shut!

The Vilna Gaon says of this: “For every moment that a person closes his lips, he merits a sublime hidden light that neither angels nor any other created being can imagine.”

The greatest thing a person can do is remain silent, thereby displaying a quality of the Almighty by uttering “a voice of delicate silence”—a cry of silence.

Translation by Ch. Berman