Shul Kavvanah Cards, for Purim

I know a few people who carry pre-printed cards in shul, to hand to those who try to converse with them during davening. The notes are meant to explain their owner's silence in a polite way.

In the spirit of Purim, here are a few that I've thought of; they may have too much snark to be handed out, but I had fun thinking of them, anyway [click to enlarge]:

What can you come up with?

Why does talking in shul bother you?

Some time back, I was in a minyan at which a family was celebrating a happy occasion. They had quite a few guests, including people who quite clearly were not regular shul attendees.

As happens when people see each other after a long hiatus, there was a good deal of conversation among those gathered. The noise disturbed some people davening near them, causing them to Shush loudly.

I turned to one of the Shushers and commented that the talking these people were doing didn't bother me much; I am far more troubled by the noise of people who know the value of davening, and talk anyway. To which the Shusher pointed out that their talking was disrespectful toward those around them.

I've thought quite a bit about our attitudes toward shul, and toward shul decorum, as my various posts on the topic on this blog indicate. But in contemplating that brief exchange, I had a thought that I had never formulated in quite this way before: Neither of us had our davening disturbed by noise itself, but rather by the issues accompanying the noise. He is disturbed by disrespect. I am disturbed by a lack of spirituality. It's not the noise, it's the baggage.

What do you think?

"And I might be praying a bit too loud, but that never hurt no one"

On the day after Pesach, on our family's trip back to Toronto, I chanced to daven shacharis in a small town about midway between Long Island and Toronto. After the first kaddish, a gentleman who had recited kaddish approached to tell me that I was davening too loud, enough so that it had disturbed him.

In truth, I sometimes do mutter a bit. And when I am exhausted my voice may drop a bit, into a more rumbling tone. And it was a very small room, so that all of us were very close together. All the same, I had been completely unaware.

Over the years, I have heard from several people, from multiple shuls, about their problems with co-congregants who daven in a tone that is loud enough to disturb them. I always noted that the audible daveners may simply be unaware of their volume – and now I had personal evidence that one could be loud enough to disturb, without realizing it at all.

So here are some suggested strategies for people who need to get the message across to their neighbours:

Hand your neighbour a card saying, "You are too loud."

Stick your fingers in your ears.

Pocket-dial his cell phone.

Post a bad review of the shul on GoDaven.

Ask him questions that relate to his davening – such as, "Based on your concentration in Barech Aleinu [a prayer for livelihood], sounds like you could use a hand!" Or "What did you do to make Slach Lanu [a prayer for forgiveness] so serious?"

Underline the word "Silent" in "Silent Amidah" in the siddur and hand it to him.

Ask aloud, "When did this shul install a microphone?"

Your turn - what would you do?

[For a serious post on the value of silent prayer, click here.]

Stop campaigning against talking in shul

Many shul rabbis spend significant time thinking about ways to eliminate noise in shul (see my previous post here). Wise people have written lengthy articles deconstructing the “talking in shul” phenomenon, explaining why people do it and how they might be motivated to stop.

I have heard that rabbis have taken all sorts of creative steps, including:
*Anonymous letters to congregants (I wonder if they use ransom-note style cut-out letters to avoid forensic analysis);
*Long speeches and dedicated divrei torah ("I'll keep talking until you stop talking");
*Special tefilot on behalf of people who stop talking (maybe they should be davening on behalf of the talkers?);
*Eliminating Chazarat haShatz;
*Public humiliation of talkers.

Personally, I think we would be better off looking at the positive: How to create a davening-focussed shul experience, an atmosphere which helps people get into the mood of davening.

The approach must include more than posting a דע לפני מי אתה עומד (Know before Whom you stand) motto over the Aron or an אסור לדבר בשעת התפילה (Speech during davening is prohibited) sign on the wall, whether accompanied by a cute graphic or not. “No cell phones” signs are nice, but similarly inadequate. Again: Even if people comply, our goal is not to eliminate noise - it’s to create a good davening atmosphere.

So what can we do?

1) The most obvious answer is to have an existing nucleus of people davening with proper concentration. Nothing increases kavvanah (focus) like standing in a group of people who are already focussed. But what about for those of us who don’t already have such a nucleus?

2) Another good answer is to create pre-davening programming. The mishnah notes an ancient practice of meditating for an hour before Shemoneh Esreih. Our own psukei d’zimra is meant to achieve the same goal, although that requires an understanding of what its passages mean.
The gemara makes this point when it notes that one may not begin davening after studying in-depth Torah. Torah is wonderful - but, for most of people, it will not develop a mood of davening. In fact, even studying the meaning of davening won’t necessarily help. For most people, intellectual study is more about an internal focus than a Divine focus.
Actual meditation, or perhaps a directed session in which people think about their lives and needs, and the lives and needs of those around them, and the wondrous things HaShem does for us at all times, would accomplish far more. Unfortunately, it’s too touchy-feely for most of us (me included, frankly), but that’s too bad - it could really make a difference.

3) A third answer is to make sure that people have an appropriate activity during all points of the davening - including the “down time” when the Torah is circulating, during lengthy “Mi sheBeirach” prayers on behalf of the sick, the local government, the State of Israel, POWs, et cetera, and during Chazarat haShatz (repetition of Shmoneh Esreih).
I am well aware of the halachic rulings prohibiting Torah study during this last period, and I, personally, follow that view. At the same time, if the result is that slack-jawed people’s minds wander, they don’t listen to the chazan and they don’t answer Amen anyway, they might as well be studying. Perhaps shuls could have, in the pews themselves, literature on the davening and literature that encourages people to think about their needs/blessings and their relationship with HaShem. Alternatively, Chazanim could work harder at creating tunes which will draw people into the davening.

4) For the intellectually focussed, we need classes on the meaning of the davening - not just the superficial, but in-depth analysis of Psukei d’Zimra, of the structure of berachos, etc - so that people will understand the genius invested in each tefillah.

There are many more ideas out there, I am sure, but to me, this is the bottom line: We will have a strong davening when we stop deconstructing noise and start constructing a davening atmosphere.

Bilam the Blogger (Derashah: Balak 5768)

This derashah would be perfect as a closing post for this blog; I'll have to remember to re-print it on day I decide to stop blogging.

We live in a world of unabating noise. Whether it’s from rumbling traffic or blaring headlines or roaring movie theater speakers, we are surrounded by decibel levels unknown to previous generations. And beyond sheer amplitude, the noise is ubiquitous - everyone is talking, politicians and celebrities and people on the street and reality TV stars and columnists and bloggers and so on, as though humanity has forgotten how to stop talking.

Thank Gd for the Internet; now, everything is published, to a worldwide audience. Everyone is publishable, from a one-line Twitter note like “I’m packing for a trip” to a video of yourself singing a song on YouTube to a blog post about the note you just saw on Twitter or the silly video you just saw on Youtube. The result: Utter cacophony.


This cacophony reminds me of Bilam, the villain of our parshah, a man who spends the entire parshah talking to and at anyone who will spare him a minute. He’s a combination yenta and used-car salesman on fast-forward - never, ever, ever at a loss for words. Bilam never heard the wise counsel attributed to Abraham Lincoln: “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.”

• Gd tells Bilam not to go curse the Jews, but Bilam keeps talking until even Gd surrenders, saying, “Fine, go.”
• Bilam’s donkey starts talking to him, and Bilam doesn’t miss a beat in the conversation.
• Bilam sees a sword-wielding angel and, instead of rearing back in fear as Yehoshua would do later in the Torah, Bilam chats with him.
• Bilam can’t prevent himself from blessing the Jews, but he keeps right on talking anyway, urging Balak, king of Moav, to give him another chance, and then another.
• Then, frustrated at Bilam’s blessings, Balak kicks him out in disgrace. Bilam is dragged off-stage by the scruff of his neck - but even then he’s hondling, saying, “Wait, hang on, there’s just one more thing I want to tell you!” and he proceeds to deliver yet another message.

Bilam is a parent’s ultimate nightmare - a Talk-to-Me-Elmo toy that doesn’t need batteries and has no Off button.


Contrast Bilam’s constant prattle with the pragmatic advice of our sages:
• סיג לחכמה שתיקה , Silence protects wisdom.
• מילה בסלע, משתוקא בתרין - If a word costs a dollar, pay two dollars for silence.
• Or, in the words of Mishlei, which presumably inspired Lincoln: “Even a silent fool is thought to be wise, and one with sealed lips is thought to be a man of understanding.”


But the Torah stresses silence as more than a pragmatic ideal, or a blessed respite for tired ears; silence is a supreme spiritual value.

• When Gd tells Avraham to offer Yitzchak as a sacrifice, Avraham is silently acquiescent - and Gd praises and rewards him for that silence.
• When Aharon loses his sons Nadav and Avihu, he is praised for the articulate inexpression of וידם אהרן, his silent response.
• When Chanah pleads with Gd for a child, she does it silently; רק שפתיה נעות וקולה לא ישמע, her lips move but she produces no sound, and our own silent Shmoneh Esreih is modeled on that inaudible prayer of hers.


Most importantly, consider the remarkable story of Eliyahu haNavi. Exasperated with a nation that refused to consistently worship Gd but instead habitually strayed after idols, Eliyahu lashed out in a tirade, “קנא קנאתי לה' I have been zealous for You Gd, the Jewish people have violated Your covenant, they have destroyed Your altars, they have murdered Your prophets by the sword, and only I remain, and they want to kill me as well!”

To which Gd replied, “Go stand before Me on the mountain, and I will pass before you.” And then a great wind blew, smashing stones, but Eliyahu was told, “Gd is not in the wind.”

And then the ground shook and there was a great noise, but Eliyahu was told, “Gd is not in the noise.”

And then there was a great fire, but Eliyahu was told, “Gd is not in the fire.”

And then all that remained was a קול דממה דקה, a thin whisper, and then Eliyahu left the mountain.


Gd was telling Eliyahu that noisy explosions and great, thundering tantrums are not the highest power; the silence of one who is capable of explosions, and chooses to refrain from them, is still greater.

Mind you, Eliyahu, don’t mistake silence for impotence; the same being Whose will is expressed in the thinnest note is simultaneously capable of consuming flame, of shattering cataclysm, of mighty wind. Silence is not the inability to act, but rather the ability to refrain from acting. איזהו גבור, הכובש את יצרו - True power is not in conquest, but in deciding when to conquer, and when to be patient.


On a human level, this self-censorship is the supreme spiritual benefit of silence - a recognition of limits, a decision that what we have to say will not help achieve our goals. Silence is the “voice” of someone who thinks to himself, “I could speak, but it wouldn’t accomplish what I want to accomplish,” and so he chooses to refrain.

And on a Divine level, as Rav Yosef Albo and Ralbag taught, silence represents Divine subtlety, in which the Hand of the Creator which could so easily impose itself upon us all is barely sensed, rarely visible and never imposed upon His creations.

As the Kabbalists put it, Divine Silence is צמצום, HaShem’s self-imposed limitation on His explicit involvement in our world. When we ask why bad things happen to good people, when our belief in the ultimate morality of the universe is shaken by tyranny empowered by Free Will, when Eliyahu challenges his Gd for his own suffering and for the absence of the mighty Hand of Justice, the Divine absence is expressed by this silence that says, “I” - the Divine “I” - “have nothing to say yet.”


This noble restraint is what Bilam fails to comprehend. For Bilam, it’s all about the noise, the words, putting together a message that will get him what he wants - generally, silver and gold. If yesterday’s words didn’t do it, today’s words, tomorrow’s words, the next speech, the next curse, will do it.

Bilam once had a home, servants, a great reputation, even the ability to talk to Gd. Had Bilam been silent and remained at home when so instructed by Gd, he could have had everything - he would have survived, with or without wealth. But he insisted on filibustering Gd, and the result was that he lost everything - reputation first, and ultimately his life.


This isn’t a speech promoting silence in shul - although that might be a good place to start, I suppose. But, no, it’s more about silence in general, and a lesson for everyone - me first, frankly.

In a world that takes “Publish or Perish” as an imperative driving every human being to express every thought and even record it for posterity, encouraging the reporting of every item of לשון הרע and רכילות, the airing of every personal observation and dispute in public in violation of our value of שלום, we ought to study this Divine קול דממה דקה, this small voice, this צמצום restraint, and apply it to our own existence. I can only speak for myself, but this I can say: I talk way too much.


We are taught that the opposite of Bilam is Moshe; Moshe’s appreciation for silence is one of the central ways in which he differentiates himself from a man who was his equal in prophecy but his opposite in character.

Moshe is introduced to us as a כבד פה, a man with trouble speaking, who doesn’t feel comfortable in his public role. The man who would bring to Earth the most important words ever spoken is a humble, reluctant orator.

Moshe understands that Gd is discovered in a sound so thin as to be nearly inaudible, and yet deep enough to contain the majesty of the Creator of All. Moshe understands the power of a Being who surely can thunder like Eliyahu but who chooses the containment of Chanah. Moshe is the one to convey that Being’s message to Earth.

Bilam leads the people of Moav and Midyan to corruption, and, ultimately, to destruction. Moshe, on the other hand, leads the Jews to the verge of their entry into Israel. Perhaps, if we can learn the value of Silence, we will soon merit the same.

-
Notes:
1. Yes, this derashah was inspired by my post here.

2. The Lincoln quote is also attributed to Mark Twain.

3. The quote about paying two dollars for silence is from Megilah 18a. The Mishlei sentence is 17:28. Eliyahu's story is Melachim I 19. Ralbag is from his comments to that chapter. R' Yosef Albo is from Sefer haIkkarim 2:31. Bilam's death is mentioned in Bamidbar 31:8.

4. On the Divine non-imposition, see the beautiful comments ofR’ Jonathan Sacks at http://www.chiefrabbi.org/faith/revelation.html and http://www.chiefrabbi.org/thoughts/vaetchanan.htm

Of Silent Prayer, Synagogue Design, and Tzimtzum

Reb Gil writes here about noise during davening - noise from talking, and noise from other people who are davening.

The former type of noise is not of great interest to me; I think the primary reason for talking during davening is not sinfulness but rather thoughtless synagogue design, cramming people close to each other for 90 to 150 minutes during which they are supposed to be unnaturally focussed only on prayer and not at all on each other.

The latter, though - noisy davening - is something I’ve been contemplating lately.

The gemara actually presents four different reasons to recite Shemoneh Esreih silently:
1) Chanah prayed silently (Berachot 31a)
2) Silent prayer shows faith in Divine omniscience (Berachot 24b)
3) Loud prayer would embarrass sinners who wished to admit their sins (Sotah 32b)
4) Loud prayer would distract others (Berachot 24b)

It is also noteworthy that the Aruch haShulchan (Orach Chaim 101:8) adds a fifth factor: A hushed demeanor is appropriately respectful when standing before royalty.

(Note that there are also reasons to daven aloud; see Biur haGra Orach Chaim 101 להגביה and Aruch haShulchan Orach Chaim 101:7-8.)

But let’s look at this on a more abstract level. Certainly, silence is of practical value - סיג לחכמה שתיקה as well as נצור לשונך מרע - but silence is also an expression of spiritual depth.

Consider Avraham’s silence at the instruction to slaughter his son Yitzchak, and the accolades he earns for his unquestioning loyalty.

Consider Aharon’s silence at the death of Nadav and Avihu, and the praise heaped upon him for his articulate inexpression.

Consider Chanah’s silent plea for a child. Despite the fact that the gemara reads all manner of imprecation into her non-words, the plain presentation is of a servant of Gd, nobly stoic in her suffering.

Consider the Davidic counsel of דום לה' והתחולל לו, Pray silently for Gd and tremble (Ibn Ezra's translation) for Him .

And, finally but most significantly, consider the contrast between Eliyahu’s thundering rage and the Divine קול דממה דקה with which Gd rebukes him, a sound so thin as to be nearly inaudible, and yet deep enough to contain the majesty of the Creator of All.

This is a silence of presence, of pent-up power, of tzimtzum, of a Being who surely can thunder like Eliyahu but who chooses the containment of Chanah.

To me, the silence of Shemoneh Esreih is an attempt to capture this noble state of expressive restraint.

And yet, the Rambam (Hilchot Tefilah 5:9) and Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 101:2-3) do not choose this route, but instead opt for the prosaic, if socially praiseworthy, concern of distracting others. Oh, well. There's a lesson in that, too.