CBT ToolTalk Guest Contributor: Sometimes the Deepest Comfort Is Silence

By Rabbi Yisroel Glixman, MSW

Sometimes the deepest comfort is not what we say. It’s what we don’t say.

The Jerusalem Talmud (Taanis 27b) describes how Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi spoke about the tragedies of the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash (Holy Temple) using the verse:

"בִּלַּע ה' וְלֹא חָמָל"
“Hashem swallowed without mercy.” (Eichah/Lamentations 2:2)

He would explain twenty-four tragedies that the Jewish people suffered during the destruction.

Rabbi Yochanan, who lived later, would explain sixty.

The Talmud asks an obvious question. Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi lived much closer to the destruction. Why would Rabbi Yochanan know more?

The answer is powerful.

During Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi’s lifetime, there were still elderly sages alive who had personally seen the Beis Hamikdash in its glory and then witnessed its destruction. The moment he began speaking about the tragedies, they would break down crying, and he could not continue.

Rabbi Yochanan lived later, after those firsthand witnesses were no longer alive, and was therefore able to continue further.

There’s something very deep here.

Even Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi understood that there are moments when pain is too real for explanations. Moments when tears matter more than words.

Our sages teach a very similar idea in the laws of comforting mourners.

"אין המנחמין רשאין לומר דבר עד שיפתח אבל"

“When visiting a mourner, the comforters should not speak first until the mourner opens the conversation.”

When entering a house of mourning, we do not rush to fill the silence. We don’t immediately explain, reassure, or fix.

We sit.
We listen.
We stay present.

Sometimes the deepest comfort is not what is said, but what is held back.

And honestly, this is hard for many of us.

When someone we care about is in pain, we naturally want to make things better:
“It’ll be okay.”
“You’ll get through this.”
“Don’t worry.”
“At least…”

But very often, people do not need solutions first.
They need presence first.

Modern psychology speaks a lot about emotional attunement and creating safety before trying to solve a problem. When someone feels overwhelmed, they often cannot fully process advice or perspective yet. First they need to feel heard. Seen. Not alone.

Our sages understood this long ago.

Even Job’s friends are praised at first for simply sitting silently with him for seven days. The problems only began once they started trying to explain his suffering instead of simply being there with him.

And maybe this is part of what we work on during Sefiras HaOmer, the period between Pesach and Shavuos.

The students of Rabbi Akiva were incredibly great people, yet our sages tell us they did not treat each other with the level of sensitivity and respect they were capable of. This time period is not only about personal growth. It is also about learning how to truly be there for another person.

Sometimes that looks like:

• Pausing before responding
• Listening longer than feels comfortable
• Not rushing to fix someone’s pain
• Allowing another person’s emotions to exist without immediately trying to resolve them

Because not every moment calls for words.

Sometimes what a person needs most is simply to know:
“You are here, and I am not alone.”

And sometimes, that is enough.