Rabbi Cooper's Letters

August 31, 2020 / 11 Elul 5780

Dear Friends,

There is a question whose answer has been debated over the course of centuries. The question is: What did the Children of Israel hear when they stood at Mount Sinai to receive the Torah? The Midrash waxes eloquently, presenting a variety of views.
 

Some say they heard only the first two of the Ten Commandments. After that, they realized that the Voice was too powerful, so the remaining commandments and, presumably, the rest of the Torah, were given directly to Moses.

Then, there are those who say that only the first Commandment was spoken directly to the People.

Others claim that it was only the first word.

But my favorite comes from a later, Chasidic/mystical insight which teaches that what was heard at Sinai was the first letter of the first word. And, what is the first letter of the Ten Commandments? An “alef”, a letter which has no sound.

Silence is ambiguous and confusing. At times, it is defined by the absence of all sound. At other times, silence is potent and deeply meaningful. The Talmud suggests that, when one remains silent while another is speaking, by their silence, the silent one conveys acquiescence. When a lover asks their beloved to marry, silence might convey shock or confusion. It might mean profound happiness so deep that it cannot be expressed with words. It might also mean: “Thanks, but no thanks.”
 

Suffice to say, silence is not always measured in decibels. Sometimes, we must intentionally create the particular kind of silence, before it can be measured, before it can be discussed, before we are clear regarding its meaning.
 

Our High Holiday services this year, as always, will include lots of prayers. Those prayers express a variety of emotions and include many ideas about the world and its beauty, and about our behavior over the year gone by. We have prayers that remind us of our responsibilities to each other and to God. We express, as well, the vulnerability of our lives and the sense of trepidation we feel as we enter a new year.
 

Chanted in the timeless nusach of the High Holidays, our Cantor is our emissary for reciting the prayers and helping us to extract from them their meaning and their mood. But, were one to compare that which is recited to that which is silent, I would say that the time devoted to silence is nearly as great as the time spent reading, and chanting aloud the words of our services.
 

During this year’s High Holiday services, most of our congregants will remain at home and join us via Zoom. This arrangement will certainly present challenges to me and to the Cantor, as we try to engage and inspire from afar. At the same time, let us not belittle or neglect the moments of silence that we create for ourselves.
 

When we read a Psalm or prayer silently, do not set as your goal the enunciation of every word. Instead, read a line, a word, a phrase and take a moment to consider it in silence. Think of its applicability and its relevance. Consider the fact that the piyyutim, the acrostic passages we read or sing, are essentially poems. Read them as poetry. They are not meant to be parsed for their literal meaning, as one would scrutinize a scholarly article. They are intended to inspire and to create a mood. How do the words feel? What emotions does it raise within you? Utilize the silence of these readings to consider the meanings and emotions which the prayers open within you.
 

During the silent Amidah, take some time to recite the words, if you can. Do not rush to finish. Rather, stay for a while with a concept that is meaningful to you when you read it. Use the silence to reflect and to bring to your lips the prayers of your heart. Read the meditations and explanations in the margins of your High Holiday machzorim. They are well-chosen and deeply thoughtful.
 

This year, the Cantor and I are working hard to prepare our High Holiday services in ways that are novel, meaningful, and uplifting. A geographically expanded congregation and the logistical challenges it creates will provide some important moments for silence along the way. Allow the silence to be filled with meaningful reflections, with sweet memories and opportunities to express your deepest thoughts.
 

The noise of the world is, at times, deafening. The thought of silence is, for many, a source of comfort. But during our services, let us try to create silent spaces in which there is time and inclination to meditate on the prayers before us. Let us carve out from the silence opportunities to fill an existential void with meaning.
 

I will be sending one more letter to you before Rosh HaShanah, with some ideas about creating a space for prayer in your home. In the meantime, don’t forget the short videos (see my last letter for details). Feel free to communicate with me, to ask questions and, perhaps, to practice sitting in meaningful silence.
 

B’Shalom,
 

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