The late Chilean poet Pablo Neruda wrote:
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.
This one time upon the earth,
let’s not speak any language,
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be a delicious moment,
without hurry, without locomotives,
All of us would be together
in a sudden uneasiness …
Those who prepare green wars,
wars of gas, wars of fire,
victories without survivors,
would put on clean clothing
and would walk alongside their brothers
in the shade, without doing a thing…
If we weren’t unanimous
about keeping our lives so much in
motion,
if we could do nothing for once,
perhaps a great silence would
interrupt this sadness,
this never understanding ourselves
and threatening ourselves with death,
perhaps the earth is teaching us
when everything seems to be dead
and then everything is alive …*
The world feels very loud these days. We rocket from one moment of upheaval to the next locally, nationally, on the world stage. Between the ones who say this and the ones who say that, the truth as I believe it truly lies is obscured. It lies hidden beneath layers of bias, beneath the intentional propaganda brought forward by both sides, the half-facts and distortions of a too-fast-for-reflection media cycle that leaves no time for thoughtful investigation.
There is truth. There is right and wrong, but it is so very difficult to discern that truth when there is nothing but noise around us.
As I sit with these heavy thoughts, with a heavy heart, wondering what there is to say and what there is to do, the fact of Shabbat comes rising up to meet me and I am grateful, so grateful, for the promise of a little bit of time to be still, to sit in quiet, to not think or discern or do. That it what Shabbat is or can be – the stillness that gives reprieve from the intensity that is our fragile human existence, our modern human existence. That stillness is also space into which our tradition tells us true insight, even revelation, might come.
A Midrash imagines that “When the Holy One gave the Torah, no bird chirped, no fowl flew, no ox lowed, none of the angels stirred a wing, the seraphim did not say, ‘Holy, holy, holy!’ The sea did not roar, the creatures spoke not, the whole world was hushed into a breathless silence. It was then that the Voice when forth: I am Adonai your God.” (Shemot Rabbah 29:1)
In the Midrash, truth, revelation, insight and wisdom come into our midst in stillness. Whether we today find that stillness sitting among a community singing ancient words or the murmur of a brook as we whisper the prayers of our own hearts, it would seem that we will have to work very hard to find the quiet of Shabbat. It will not come looking for us in a world of ceaseless noise. But if we do find it, imagine …
If we weren’t unanimous
about keeping our lives so much in
motion,
if we could do nothing for once,
perhaps a great silence would
interrupt this sadness,
this never understanding ourselves
and threatening ourselves with death …
*Excerpted from “Keeping Quiet” in “Full Woman, Fleshly Apple, Hot Moon” by Pablo Neruda, translated by Stephen Mitchell.
Rabbi Elissa Sachs-Kohen is a rabbi at Baltimore Hebrew Congregation.
A Baltimore native and Pikesville resident, Freedman had the distinction of being the longest-serving employee in the history of the State of Maryland.
House Bill 661 is the culmination of a collaborative effort led by Del. Sarah S. Wolek (D-16th), Del. Jared S. Solomon (D-18th) and Sen. Shelly L. Hettleman (D-11th).
More than 100 Broadmead residents and team members recently gathered to celebrate the festival of Passover with a meaningful seder dinner.
For Beth Tfiloh senior Ada Key, earning the Eagle Scout rank is about giving back and paving the way for girls in scouting.