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Holy Noises, Holy Responses (10/12/05)
Sermon, Temple Emanuel
Kol Nidre, 2005/5766
There is a classic story of a shepherd boy who found his way into the community of the great Rabbi known as the Baal Shem Tov as Yom Kippur was about to end. The boy was a simple shepherd; the little that he knew was just that he had to be there on this holy day.
Looking around, the boy was moved and wanted nothing more but to join in the prayers. The problem was, he did not know how to read or what to say.
After a while the boy could not contain himself any longer. He knew what he had to do. He put a couple of fingers in his mouth, and just the way that he would call his sheep, he let out a loud ear-piercing whistle.
Everyone was shocked! Eyes turned toward him. Fingers covered mouths to ‘shush’ him. Some even began to call over the ushers to have him removed.
The Baal Shem Tov stopped services and started walking towards the boy. What would he do? Everyone wondered. He bent down, whispered in the lad’s ear, and thanked him. With tears of joy in his eyes, he turned to his congregation and said: “It is this whistle played from the depths of his soul, which has carried the prayers of our entire congregation straight to God’s innermost sanctum.”
The Baal Shem Tov knew that the young shepherd, instead of just making noise, had made a holy noise. Hearing this noise, he came over and gave a holy response.
Each year we gather on the High Holidays and make holy noises. We sound our shofars. We sing out the blessings and make the noises without which Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur just wouldn’t be the same. Our response to these holy noises often comes through one word: Amen.
Our lives are truly punctuated by the beautiful sounds that surround us. We tune in when we hear the sounds of joy. They are sounds that instantly bring smiles to our faces and warmth to our hearts. We know them well: the sounds of friends celebrating or of a glass breaking on a wedding day; the chants of a child or adult reading from the Torah for the first time and becoming Bar or Bat Mitzvah; the sounds of a newborn baby or of children playing. They are the sounds that say ‘I love you,’ the sounds of growing up, the sounds of accomplishment. We hear these sounds loud and clear. They have harmony and they resonate. It is easy to hear these noises and it is easy to respond: Amen.
Our world truly echoes with the beautiful sounds of dreams coming true. Yet, at the same time, our world is filled with sounds of unimaginable need. They are the sorrowful sounds of the poor, homeless, and hungry in our community, in our country, and around the planet. These sounds reach us and demand a response. And we do respond. Words such as Amen aren’t enough. The Jewish response is through tzedakah contributions and mitzvah projects. Take, for example, the Corners of the Field project. While we observe the Yom Kippur fast, our community will also donate tons of food to local hunger relief projects – grocery bag by grocery bag. Another example: this weekend, as Sukkot is about to begin, Temple will begin building a Habitat for Humanity house together with volunteers from First Presbyterian Church and Anderson Grove Baptist Church. And when we hear the nightmarish sounds in our world – such as the news of the genocide in Darfur, Sudan that has now claimed over 400,000 lives – we respond: by raising awareness, raising our voices, and acting.
But we also know that there are times when no words or actions are necessary. We are only asked to respond by being there. Indeed, our tradition notes that the holiest noise to make when visiting a family following the death of a loved one is the sound of silence. Being present is enough; it is the voice that speaks louder than any words ever could.
Behind me tonight, the Temple’s three Torahs are dressed in the traditional white coverings that are used during the high holidays. On each Torah cover is a Hebrew letter – a shin, a mem, and an ayin. Taken together, they spell the word “shema.” “Shema” – Hear! – is probably the most familiar Hebrew command to the Jewish people. This command appears on the Torahs and in the Torahs. It is written on our Temple’s walls, in our prayer books, and on the scrolls inside our mezuzahs. We say this command when we rise up, when we go to sleep, during services and even when we are about to die. Shema! Hear!
We know, however, that there is more to hearing than just having our ears open. There is more to responding than just opening our mouths. Rabbi Mordechai Gafni writes about the final scene in the classic boxing movie “Rocky.” The fight is over and Rocky’s strength is all but gone. The noise of the fans is deafening nearly blocking out the judge’s decision as it is being announced over the loudspeaker. The movie’s most memorable line comes next as Rocky, battered and beaten, yells at the top of his lungs: “Adrienne, Adrienne.” She screams back his name: “Rocky, Rocky.” And one of the greatest boxing stories ever ends with an embrace and the words: “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
What was it that made that scene so powerful? Rocky wasn’t merely yelling out Adrienne’s name. He was saying: I need you. And she wasn’t just saying his name back. She was saying: I am here. We have a word for this in Hebrew: Hineini. It means I am here and fully present. Like an ear-piercing whistle, it is a word that echoes to us on the High Holidays. But instead of carrying to the highest heavens, it penetrates our souls reminding us of the importance of being truly present. Regrettably, these are the sounds that we often miss, the sounds that we should hear but don’t.
A passage read by some congregations before the recitation of the Shema sums it up:
* Judaism begins with the commandment:
Hear, O Israel!
But what does it really mean to hear?
…The man who listens to the words of his friend, Or his wife, or his child, And does not catch the note of urgency:
Notice me, help me, care about me,”
Hears – but does not really hear.
How many times do we talk with our spouses, our partners, and not really hear them? How many times have we stood in the presence of our kids, our parents, our siblings, relatives, or friends, without really being present? How many times do they call our names and we answer, but we’re not really there?
If Yom Kippur is about teshuvah – about turning, returning, and making changes – then, these are real teshuvah moments. These holy sounds are sometimes so hard to hear over the other sounds of life. Often, they are the most important. Rather than requiring action, rather than requiring a formulaic word, they beg for our attention and presence. They are the true holy noises calling to us on Yom Kippur.
We truly have our work cut out for us when it comes to the people we love most. We also have our work cut out for us when it comes to hearing the sounds of the Divine presence – of God. These sounds are very hard to hear, especially in our day and age when so many have lost the ability to spiritually tune in.
I am always amazed when I talk with little kids about God. They have an innate sense of God’s presence. God is everywhere – on the outside and on the inside. They are so familiar with the sounds that God makes – in nature, in the world around them, and even within them. They might not be able to work a radio but they sure know how to tune in and pick up God.
When we think of all that we missed during the past year, surely we need to include the times that we haven’t tried to hear the voice of God or the times that we thought doing so was simply impossible. When we do teshuvah – when we seek to change – we need to not only consider the times we stood in the presence of others and weren’t fully present, but those times that we heard the sounds from the Source of Holiness and did not respond or ignored it.
Tonight is the holiest night of the year. It is designed to be a night of spiritual awareness. We refrain from feeding our physical bodies so that we can concentrate on our souls.
Among the many traditions associated with Yom Kippur, it is customary to wear a tallit. This is the only night of the year that we do this as a congregation. Normally when wearing a tallit, a blessing is recited. Not tonight. This is so because we are really not wearing our own tallit. Instead, our tradition teaches, tonight we are in fact wearing God’s tallit. Even if you are not physically wearing a tallit tonight, you are wrapped in God’s tallit. Tonight, God is enveloping us in goodness, beauty, pure spirituality, and love, letting us know that we can be all that we can be. As God’s creations, we do not say the blessing. God says the blessing. It is our job to listen for this prayer and to answer. It is our opportunity to tune in and catch God’s blessing. And then it becomes our honor, our holy opportunity, to respond by saying Amen. Let’s not miss that opportunity.
For all of the times that we have heard the holy noises around us, we give thanks and say Amen. For all of the times we have missed them, we ask for forgiveness. As a new day dawns, let us begin it with ears tuned in to the sounds of holiness.
* We pray, O God –
Sharpen our ability to hear
May we hear the music of the world,
And the infant’s cry, and the lover’s sigh.
May we hear the call for help of the lonely soul, And the sound of the breaking heart.
May we hear the words of our friends,
And also their unspoken pleas and dreams.
May we hear within ourselves the yearnings That are struggling for expression.
May we hear You, O God.
For only if we hear You
Do we have the right to hope
That You will hear us.
Hear the prayers that we offer to You this day, O God, And may we hear them too.
Together, let us say: AMEN
* Quoted from Jack Reimer, in Likrat Shabbat Prayerbook, ed. Jonathan Levine [Bridgeport, CT: Prayerbook Press, 1975] pp. 74-75
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