The Power of Listening: What Devarim and Aaron the Kohen Teach Us About Peace

One week, my sweet son Moishy, the child I was blessed with later in life, got into trouble. Moishy has what feels like a million uncles, and so many older brothers and sisters who are almost like additional mothers and fathers to him. He is such a sweet child.

And then, suddenly, I received a phone call. “Rebbetzin Yemima, Moishy hit another child.”

It was the first time in his life that he had ever hit anyone.

I was so embarrassed and upset. I immediately called the mother of the boy he had hit. “Hello,” I said awkwardly. “This is Yemima Mizrachi. I’m calling because my son hit your son.”

“What good luck that he hit him!” she exclaimed enthusiastically. “Because now I had the privilege of getting a phone call from you. It was worth it for Rebbetzin Yemima to…”

Sometimes an Unpleasant Moment Creates a Meeting

I thought to myself: perhaps that is the perfect description of these days. Yes, it is uncomfortable. It is a situation we would have preferred never to happen. But something else is happening at the same time: there is an encounter. An encounter with God.

This Shabbat, we begin the Book of Deuteronomy, Sefer Devarim. It is deeply moving, and it is different from all the other books of the Torah because it is called Mishneh Torah, a repetition and review of the Torah.

During the final month of his life, Moses looks back and recounts everything the Jewish people experienced together with him. And suddenly, they realize: someone saw. Someone heard their distress.

Yes, Moses sometimes rebukes them. But there is something profoundly powerful about having your experiences reflected back to you. Someone listened to your story. Someone noticed what you went through. That alone is extraordinary.

Devarim: Our Words and Our Stories

Sefer Devarim can be understood as the book of our devarim, our words, our stories, our struggles that have entered someone else’s ears.

Rabbi Nachman of Breslov teaches: “From the conversations and stories of women, one can know the state of the Shechinah and understand how she is at that moment.”

During this month, listen to the stories women tell. Their stories are, in a profound sense, also the story of the Shechinah. The pain over children, the anguish caused by conflict, the struggles within families and relationships. The Shechinah feels all of this.

According to the language of Kabbalah, the Shechinah has been exiled from the place of her longing, from the Beit Hamikdash. Our stories of exile, pain, distance, and longing echo that larger story.

Aaron the Kohen Listened

We have just entered the month of Av. Rosh Chodesh Av is the day associated with the passing of someone who knew how to listen to people’s stories: Aaron the Kohen, the man described by our Sages as one who loved peace and pursued peace.

I know how exhausting it can be to listen to the details of marital disagreements: “He said this, and then I told him that, and then he answered me, and then I said…”

Yet Aaron the Kohen would come to a woman who was in conflict with her husband, knock on her door, and, in effect, say: “Tell me. I’m listening.”

And perhaps the most important thing was not even what Aaron eventually said. Maybe he would reassure her, “Your husband really does love you. I spoke to him.” But before any advice or reassurance came something even more powerful: He is interested in me. He is listening to me. Sometimes that alone can bring tremendous comfort.

The Need to Feel Valued

So often, what lies beneath a lack of peace in a home is the feeling that we are not appreciated. You feel that no one values you. Your spouse feels that no one values him. Then someone as great and important as Aaron the Kohen sits down and listens to your story. What an extraordinary feeling.

These were the “homework assignments” I gave my students this week: light a candle in memory of Aaron the Kohen and tell your story. Simply tell it. Because your story is not entirely private. It is also part of the story of the Shechinah.

Aaron the Kohen, in death as in life, somehow continues his work of bringing people closer. In a mysterious way, he brings good thoughts about you into the heart of the person with whom you long to make peace.

Because that was his mission in this world: “Love peace and pursue peace, love people and bring them closer to Torah.”

Perhaps that message is especially important when we find ourselves living through a frightening era of conflict. Listen. Hear another person’s story. Sometimes the beginning of peace is simply the realization that someone is listening.