The Sound of Silence
Thoughts on Noah 2018
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Setting out to
restart humanity after the flood, Noah encountered an unfamiliar world. The
world he had previously known was created by God’s words and continuously sustained
by His direct speech to mankind. But Noah no longer heard that voice. And as he
searched for direction in an empty land, God’s explicit advice – which had once
guided his every decision – was gone.
And Noah, a man of the soil,
was the first to plant a vineyard. And he drank of the wine and became drunk,
and exposed himself within his tent.
(Bereshit
9:20-1)
In his sad state of
confusion, Noah drank himself to self-exposure. The lack of clarity which
defined his new situation – a reality so familiar to us all – was unbearable
for him.
David Gelernter
commented on our own difficulty at discerning God’s true will in a world marked
by His silence. He wrote:
That still, small voice you hear: is it the
genuine voice of God, or merely the human stirrings of your all-too-human mind?
The image you have arrived at: is it a sign (like the burning bush) of God’s
presence? Or only a strange dream?[1]
Indeed, most of our
spiritual struggles stem from that perplexing “silence” of the world we
inhabit. Our lives are overcome by stress and anxiety on a continuous search
upon roads that are not clearly marked. They resemble Noah’s challenge after
the flood. How can we succeed?
In the opening
passage to his Mishneh Torah, HaRambam famously described the
fundamental missvah of “yediat HaShem” – knowledge of God. In
contrast to the opinion of other Jewish theologians who stressed “emunah
be-HaShem” – belief in God, HaRambam never mentions that concept.[2]
The classical explanation for his omission is that HaRambam found emunah
to be superficial and incomplete. He posited that the simple acceptance of God
forms a much weaker connection than actual knowledge of Him. Some scholars have
argued, however, for an alternate definition of emunah. They render it
inseparable from knowledge in our connection to Him. Referring to a person as ne-eman
– from the same root as emunah, for example, implies not a blind
faith in the individual but rather a strength of connection – a reliability.[3]
Emunah, then, is an integral component of our relationship with God.
Although the foundations of that bond are built upon knowledge, their stability
draws from emunah. During those all-too-familiar “Noah moments” of
silence and vulnerability in our lives, we must turn to emunah in order
to sustain the strong base of knowledge that we have built.
Our spiritual
ambitions in this life of silence, however, must stretch beyond the realm of
mere prevention. Philosopher Erling Kagge articulated the depth inherent in the
silence of our relationships. He wrote: “Without the tenderness that can follow
peace and quiet, it is difficult to sense the nuances in a loving relationship,
to understand one another.”[4]
Indeed, speech is often used as a defense mechanism to avoid the various truths
of a relationship. It is the piercing “sound of silence” that exposes all that
really exists between one and another. It strengthens our general consciousness
and draws out levels of perception and understanding that are often overlooked
in a world of constant speech.
I distinctly remember
the time that I visited an elderly talmid hakham at his home in the
Bronx where he was sitting shivah for his wife. Stepping into his modest
living room, I was immediately overcome by the quiet that pervaded. I found my
seat amongst the many guests in the room and stared awkwardly at the man in
utter silence for a full half hour. As I left the home, however, I realized
that by simply observing the facial expressions and demeanor of the mourner I
had learned more about his wife’s impact upon his life than any words may have
expressed.
Faced by the
daunting challenge of silence after the flood, Noah’s feelings of insecurity
drove him to the embarrassing state of drunkenness. That same world of quiet
which he encountered, however, is the one we continue to inhabit. Drawing
strength from emunah during our most difficult moments, those enigmatic
“sounds of silence” in our relationship with God are the ironic bearers of potential
growth.
[1] David Gelernter, Judaism: A
Way of Being (Grand Rapids, MI, 2009) pg. 164.
[2] Hilkhot Yesodei HaTorah 1:1.
[3] See R. Moshe Shapiro z”l’s
discussion of this concept in Re’eh Ne-eman (Jerusalem, IS, 2009), pg.
19-27. See, as well, R. Avraham Baum’s Et La’asot to Derekh HaShem
(Jerusalem, IS), pg. 32-4.
[4] Erling Kagge, Silence In the
Age of Noise (New York, NY, 2017), pg. 120.