Several years ago, while serving as a visiting rabbi for the High Holidays in a warm, wonderful community, I witnessed a scene that forever changed me as a rabbi and how I go about leading High Holiday services. It was Erev Rosh Hashanah, the room was full, and people seemed excited to see each other. Whether they had seen each other last week or last year, it was clear this was a community whose coming together on the High Holidays was a moment of anticipation and enthusiasm. I remember thinking to myself what a wonderful, Hamish community this was and how special a moment it was to witness people so happy to be in shul. So, you can imagine my surprise and disappointment when in the next moment I saw a member of the congregation walking around the sanctuary growling at people with shushing sounds and motions that were certainly more disruptive than any of the greetings that others were sharing with one another. In that moment, I made a decision that has now become my modus operandus in conducting services.
Long after the little incident so as not to embarrass anyone, I got up at the end of the service and said the following "My mother taught me that it was rude to tell anyone to shut up. So, you won't hear me do that at any point of the holidays. But, there are moments when we need to be together as a community and when the service calls for our attention and even our silence. So, we are going to do something a little different. Any time I hear the noise in the background and need us to come together as a community, I am going to simply stop and sing a niggun (a wordless melody). I will know you are with me when either I hear the voices of the community singing with me and/or when the only voice I hear in the room is my own. The good news - I love to sing so I can sing all day. The bad news, perhaps for some, we are still going to finish the service. So, the length of time it takes will be up to you." Since that day, I have never shushed anyone in shul and in the many communities where I have led High Holidays, Bnai Mitzvah and other services, people tell me those are often the most meaningful moments of the service.
With Rosh Hashanah only a couple weeks away, it is not surprising that I revisit this story this week. But, it was not necessarily Rosh Hashanah that made me think about it, at least not consciously. It was actually this week's Torah portion, Ki Tavo. In a dramatic and powerful moment, Moses is joined by the elders and leaders of the community in a ceremony marking the Israelites' arrival in the land of Israel. Gathering all the people together, they instruct the people that they are to set in stone God's teaching once they cross over into the land. As they conclude the ceremony, "Moses and the Levitical priests spoke to all Israel, saying: Hasket u-shema, Yisrael - Silence! Hear, O Israel! Today you have become the people of the Lord your G-d: Heed the Lord your G-d and observe His commandments and His laws, which I enjoin upon you this day."
Appealing for obedience, Moses and the leaders say what has been said before... Shema Israel.... Hear, O Israel. But, it is the first word - Hasket - that has never been used before nor is it used afterward. A hapax legomena, a word occurring only once in the Bible, hasketis unclear in its meaning and invites interpretation. Is it simply another way to say listen? Is it something else? The Talmud (Berachot 63b) understands the word: Hasket - What is meant by this word? Asu kitot kitot, form groups upon groups (i.e. small groups) to learn Torah. Rashi takes a more homiletical approach saying Has=asu, to form or make; and ket=kitot kitot , small groups. Both reinforce, however, the Talmud's next statement 'because Torah is only acquired through the dialogue of study partnership'.
The Talmud is going out of its way to remind us that it is up to us make Torah interactive, make our learning connect us to one another, make our sharing of ideas a process that engages us with each other. This is how we learn; this is how we grow; this is how we are transformed. And, to do so, we sometimes have to silence ourselves to hear someone else's thoughts that might help us understand Torah in a new way. Only then can our Torah learning become truly transformative.
The same is true for moments in prayer. The stirring sound of the shofar draws us into silence to hear 'the still small voice' of transcendence, commitment, and renewal. And, the words or even simply the experience of prayer call us into those same moments of silence in order to hear. Each such moment is a moment like our ancestors shared of renewed commitment upon arrival in the land of Israel. So, this Shabbat and in the Awesome Days ahead of us, I bless us all with the ability to walk into the synagogue, share the excitement of seeing those we know and care about, and find the ways to silence ourselves so that we can share meaning with those who make up our groups and communities with whom we pray. And, may the voice we hear shushing us be the voice of God, not of our fellow community member.
Shabbat Shalom.