Quiet Down!

 All that is expected of us is to be quiet.

“Hashem yilacheim lachem v’atem tacharishun – God will fight for you while you should be quiet.” (Shemot 14:14)

 

With the Egyptians bearing down on them, the Jews, understandably, panic and question leaving Egypt. Moshe reassures them by promising salvation. “God will take care of it. All you need to do is be quiet.”

 

Silence is golden. Silence can be uncomfortable. We like to talk.

 

Like in Shul.

 

There is an old joke about an atheist who goes to shul every week and sits next to his friend Goldberg. One day, someone asks the atheist why he keeps coming to services if he doesn’t believe in God. He replies, “Goldberg goes to shul to talk to God. I go to shul to talk to Goldberg.”

Over the years, some groups have designated this Shabbat as “Shabbat Tacharishun,” a Shabbat to focus on decorum. As one rabbi explained, “Hashem will fight for you against the schemes of the evil inclination, but that is provided you fulfill the condition in the verse, ‘and you shall remain silent.’ If you restrain yourselves from speaking about worldly matters in shul, then you will merit God’s assistance.”

Let’s just say it’s not a very popular initiative…

Talking in shul has always been an issue. In the 17^th century, Rabbi Yom Tov Lipmann Heller composed the following prayer:

May God Who blessed Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, Moshe and Aaron, David and Shlomo bless those who guard their mouth and tongue from speaking during prayers. The Holy One Blessed be He shall guard them from every trouble and distress and from every plague and illness, and they shall be subject to all the blessings written in the Torah of Moshe and all the Prophets and Scriptures. May they merit healthy children educated to become Torah scholars, marry them off and educate them to do good deeds, and serve Hashem truthfully. Amen.

People like to talk. People, thankfully, feel comfortable in Shul. Put them together, and talking in Shul doesn’t feel so wrong. I get it. While I discourage talking and hope that people who feel the need to talk – and loudly at that – take it outside, we should try to better appreciate the power of silence. We come to shul to daven, to learn, to see people, and, last but not least, to enjoy Kiddush. Our silence can enhance our davening and the experience of those around us. Religious law aside, keeping quiet in shul is an opportunity to strengthen ourselves with the positive power of silence.

V’atem tacharishun – What are some benefits of silence?

First, silence demonstrates faith. While we believe in the necessity of human effort, there comes a point when we must also nurture our appreciation that God plays a guiding role in our lives. One of the most powerful demonstrations of humility and faith is silence. We don’t have all the answers. What we see in front of us – like what the Jews saw in front of them at the sea, isn’t the whole picture. Stop, listen, contemplate, silence.

Second, silence shows strength. As columnist Peggy Noonan noted, the term “strong silent type” emerges from the fact that silence can reflect self-confidence without needing to fill the pauses with words. It indicates a person’s ability to control or even transcend a situation. The loudest person in a room is often the most insecure. Silence can also add a layer of mystery, intrigue, and respect. People wonder what the silent person is thinking and, therefore, respect their silence. The interplay between silence and respect is on display every time we observe a “moment of silence”.

Third, silence expresses empathy. One of the first skills mental health professionals learn is “active listening.” It entails overcoming the urge to speak first, to interject, or question someone in the middle of their talking. Active listening employs silence to provide space that allows the other person to express themselves while also feeling as if they have been heard. Empathic silence and active listening are essential at a shiva house. It can be very uncomfortable to sit there silently, yet that is what Jewish law proscribes and the mourner needs.

“Rabbi Shimon would say: All my life I have been raised among the wise, and I have found nothing better for a person than silence.” (Avot 1:17)

Talking is terrific. We talk to God. We talk to friends. We share our views. We make friends. It is easy to talk.

Silence is sublime. We connect to God and people through silence. We demonstrate our strength, wisdom, and compassion through silence.

We live in a loud, noisy world in which everyone seems to have something to say. We would all benefit from a little more silence, a little more patience, a little more kindness, a little more empathy, and a lot more humility.

Actions speak more loudly than words. Silence may speak loudest of all.

Money, Money, Money, Money

Here are some notable songs featuring money:

“For the Love of Money” by the O’Jays (1973)
“Money, Money, Money” by Abba (1976)
“Money” by Pink Floyd (1973)
“Money is for Nothing” by Dire Straits (1985)
For something Jewish, there’s “Gelt” by Lipa Schmeltzer.

On the one hand, as sung in the musical Cabaret, “Money makes the world go round.” On the other hand, “Money is the root of all evil.” (Timothy, I 6:10) People have a complicated relationship with wealth. For Jews, who are stereotypically associated with money, our relationship with wealth begins at the very beginning of our history as a nation.

The setting: Pharaoh offers to free the Jews, but the children and cattle - the wealth - must be left behind. Moshe refuses. Pharaoh angrily dismisses Moshe, threatening him with death should they meet again. God announces one final plague that will, finally and definitively, free the Jews. And?

“Please, speak into the ears of the people, and let them borrow, each man from his friend and each woman from her friend, silver vessels and golden vessels." (Shemot 11:1-2)

One more plague to go and the Jews go free. But, first, the Jews need to borrow gold and silver.

The same interruption is found as the Jews leave Egypt. Pharaoh says, “Go! Get out! Take everyone and everything!” The Egyptians, fearing that they’ll all die, try to hurry the Jews out, not even allowing them time for the bread to rise. Not so fast…

“And the children of Israel did according to Moses' order, and they borrowed from the Egyptians silver objects, golden objects, and garments. The Lord gave the people favor in the eyes of the Egyptians, and they lent them, and they emptied out Egypt.” (12:35-36)

What is so important about the money?

1)  A promise is a promise.

God promised Avraham that his descendants would leave Egypt “bi’rechush gadol, with great wealth.” The gold and silver the Jews received from the Egyptians served as payment or reparations for the slavery. The Midrash reinforces the Jewish claim to this treasure.

During the time of Alexander the Great, the Egyptians took the Jewish People to court and sued them for the gold and silver that they "borrowed" from them during the Exodus and never returned. An outsider named Gaviah ben Pasisa volunteered to serve as the defense attorney for the Jewish People. He asked the Greek monarch, "From where do you bring proof that we unlawfully took the money?" He responded, "From the Torah."  

Gaviah countered, "Then I will bring proof from the Torah, where it states that the Jewish people dwelled in Egypt for 430 years. Please give us the wages of 600,000 workers for that time period, and we shall return the gold which we took." The Egyptians requested a three-day recess, and did not return to the court.

The gold and silver vessels were an attempt to compensate the Jews for slavery. It was about more than the money. The rechush gadol was an attempt to shed the slave mentality. Avraham knew it would not be enough for the Jews simply to leave. Years of oppression were bound to leave their mark. After all, the Egyptians took so much from each individual Jew: their peace-of-mind, their optimism, their children’s lives. Avraham was not satisfied with merely an Exodus. Just as the Egyptians took from Bnei Yisrael, Bnei Yisrael needed to take in order for that chapter to be closed. The despoiling of Egypt served as what can be called the “Minimal Effective Response” so that the nation’s journey could begin.

2)  One can do a lot of good with money.

As Tevye said: “There’s no shame to be poor, but would it be so terrible to have a small fortune?” Despoiling Egypt is an opportunity to focus on the possibilities and responsibilities of wealth.

In some segments of Christianity, there is what is called a prosperity gospel. This teaches that financial blessing is the will of God and that faith, positive speech, and donations to specific ministries will increase one's material wealth. It is quite controversial. Judaism rejects such an approach, but Judaism recognizes the good that can and must be done with one’s resources.

It’s impossible to strip money matters from spiritual life, because the two are so intertwined. Let’s face it, mitzvot cost money. The price of a Jewish education continues to rise. We believe in “hiddur mitzvah, beautifying the mitzvah,” which can add to the cost. There is a mitzvah of tzedakah, charity, and even the poor are required to give something.

As Bnei Yisrael leave Egypt, an essential lesson is taught: Your new life is going to cost you. It may be, at times, expensive. It is important to appreciate the need for resources and to use them in the service of God.

3)  There are things more important than money.

The Torah’s focus on wealth in the formative narrative of the Jewish people teaches both the value and importance of money alongside the truth that our worth is not defined by money. As Rabbi Joseph Lookstein, of blessed memory, used to say: “You should never put money ahead of everything, but you have to put money behind everything.”

A story from Israel.

Zvika Gringlik hit a car. He exchanged details with the owner of the car and told her, “I'm to blame, I wasn't okay, and we'll fix what you need in the car.” They arranged to meet at the garage on Wednesday. On Wednesday, the woman arrived at the garage, but Zvika Gringlik did not come. She tried calling him, and he did not answer. On Thursday, the woman sent him a message: “I'm disappointed. We arranged for Wednesday, and you didn't come.”

Zvika saw the message and immediately replied: “I'm very sorry. On Tuesday my son Shaul was killed in Gaza, so I couldn't come.”

The woman immediately apologized. She herself had been at the funeral, but she did not make the connection that Zvika was Shaul's father. That same day, she arrived at the shiva home and comforted the family. During the shiva, Zvika told her: “When the shiva is over, I will transfer the amount of the repair to you.” She told him: “Don’t worry about it, I don't want the money.”

At the first opportunity, Zvika transferred NIS 2,000 to the woman via Bit (the Israeli Venmo). She sent him a message that made him weep: “There is no need. The owner of the garage heard that the person who hit the car was the father of a soldier who fell in Gaza, so he fixed the car without taking money.”

If we truly understand wealth, we know there are things far more valuable than money.

As the Jews left Egypt, they needed to learn the true value of money. Our wealth and financial resources present us with opportunities, choices, and challenges. They also represent a finite, quantifiable baseline of who we are and what we can accomplish. We need to strive to achieve lives of value through actions that money just can’t buy.

How Are You?

It’s a very common question.

We see someone, we ask, “How are you?” It’s innocent, simple, not overly intrusive. It can be answered pretty easily.

I remember a rabbi in my Yeshiva in Israel relished teaching students a lesson with this question. He would ask a student, “How are you?” The good yeshiva bachur would answer, “Baruch Hashem, thank God.” The rabbi would pounce and say, “I didn’t ask about the state of your belief. I asked how you are.”

In a way, “How are you?” simply fills space. One journalist described them as “the three most useless words in the world of communication. The person asking doesn’t really want to know, and the person responding doesn’t tell the truth.” We can do better if we want to make small talk. We can open with questions like “What’s your current state of mind?” or “What are you looking forward to this week?”

These days “How are you?” is a loaded question. Many people are not fine. Is it OK to be fine?

Sivan Rahav Meir mentioned a fascinating and deep approach to this question in the name of Rabbi Yoram Eliyahu, whose son Yedidya Eliyahu, z”l, fell in Gaza. Whoever asks him “How are you?” receives the following answer: “Learning. We are learning.”

Rahav Meir writes, “In my view, this answer is most profound. It’s about being broken and shaken, yet accepting the challenge of life as it goes on. It’s about learning how to digest and cope with what happened and the obligation to see what all of this can teach us.”

How are you? We might answer “fine” or “Baruch Hashem,” but the question allows us to evaluate where we stand right now and how this stage is part of a continuum. How am I? I can say fine because that is how I am trying to feel or how I will feel once I make it through the pain or the challenging times.

Have you heard of PTG? It stands for post-traumatic growth. Traumatic experiences can lead to stress. They can also lead to growth.

Developed in the mid-1990s by psychologists Richard Tedeschi, Ph.D., and Lawrence Calhoun Ph.D., post-traumatic growth theory is defined as, “the experience of positive change that occurs as a result of the struggle with highly challenging life crises.”

Everyone will deal with struggles and traumatic experiences in their own way. At the same time, there is an opportunity to grow from the pain. As the saying goes, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

One example of PTG that has been analyzed is Kay Wilson. Kay struggled to make her way through a Jerusalem forest after being repeatedly stabbed by a Palestinian terrorist. She distracted herself from her agony by playing the song "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" in her mind. Wilson, then 46, had been working as a tour guide when, on Dec. 18, 2010, she and a friend were ambushed by terrorists. Wilson witnessed her friend's murder and was herself viciously stabbed with a machete, ultimately playing dead as her attacker plunged his knife into her chest one final time. She eventually recovered from her severe physical wounds and is healing from her psychological trauma. She now speaks to global audiences about her survival, hoping to "dispel hatred, whether toward Arabs or Jews."

As Lorna Collier notes, “After the attack, Wilson had flashbacks and deep survivor's guilt. But like many people who have survived trauma, she has found positive change as well—a new appreciation for life, a newfound sense of personal strength and a new focus on helping others.”

I think of this automatic “How are you? Fine” dynamic a lot with regards to the situation in Israel and particularly the plight of the hostages. “How are you?” has got to be the most loaded question to ask anyone in Israel today. And yet…Many will respond “Fine” before stopping themselves to add an understandable qualifier.

The same is true with the horrific and painful hostage reality. What can we do? We can daven and maintain awareness. This morning, I attended the rally in Manhattan marking 100 days of captivity. I joined the Ramaz Minyan, which ended in a circle with songs of hope, strength, and unity. There was a nice showing that filled East 47^th Street between Second and First Avenues – including a nice number of Atlantic Beach faces. Each of us there amplified the demand to release the hostages and bring them home now. Did we accomplish anything? How was it? Fine. Those who attended, those who daven daily, those who wear the hostage “dog tags” or display the number of days in captivity are striving to do something that can make a difference. We want to move beyond this nightmare. At the same time, we want to do something – anything – to be connected with the families and take any action in which we can share their pain.

I think there is a similar motivation behind all the duffel bags sent or meals cooked or any of the actions – large or small – we are all taking on behalf of the soldiers and citizens of Israel. We want to transcend the feelings of pain and helplessness. “How are we?” We will be fine.

I will likely keep using “How are you?” as a default opener. (Yes, I will try to be more interesting or profound, but it’s just so easy.) I will try, however, to use the question – as well as my answer – as a chance to grow. Whatever the situation is right now, it can change. I can make it change by learning something new, by trying something different, by doing something – no matter how small – to make the situation better.

Last week, as the Egyptian slavery began, we read the famous verse (Shemot 1:12): “The more they afflicted them, the more they multiplied and spread.” May the difficulties we face today provide opportunities for explosive growth, improvement, and enlightenment, and may we – like our ancestors in Egypt - merit a sense of redemption.