Jewish American Heritage Month

Posted By admin on December 24, 2021

Lemony Snickett is the pen name of the author and narrator in the series of childrens novels about An unfortunate series of events. The novels chronicle the mishaps and misadventures of three orphan children in search of answers to questions about their parents origins and ultimate end.

In the fourth book of the series, Lemony Snickett observes: Sometimes words are not enough. There are some circumstances so utterly wretched that I cannot describe them in sentences or paragraphs or even a whole series of books.

The Torah in Parashat Shemot also chronicles a series of unfortunate events that lead to Bnei Yisraels misfortunes: the Egyptians are threatened by being outnumbered, then they impose crushing labour and finally they attempt to annihilate the Jewish population.

Furthermore, Bnei Yisrael lack the words to respond to their wretched circumstances. Initially, they are so diminished they cannot even articulate their experience of pain. At the beginning of the parasha, the Torah details the oppressive acts of the Egyptians but no response from the people. There is just silence. They were so broken they could not even cry out.

In contrast, following on from the narrative interlude about Moshe, the Torah records the outcry against systemic Egyptian cruelty: The children of Israel groaned from the work and they cried out. (Shemot 2:23)

In response to adversity, words are not enough. First comes silence and then the scream.

However, in what may seem a counter intuitive move, our rabbis teach us that crying out is also the first step towards saving ourselves from falling deeper into the pit.

The Netivot Shalom argues that the beginning of the redemption of Bnei Yisrael does not begin with the birth of Moses but with this cry. Why? He frames the slavery in Egypt as the direct result of disconnection between the Jewish people and their God. By crying out, Bnei Yisrael outwardly express rather than internalise their pain. Their vocalisation opened a channel for communication with Hashem.

The outcry went up to Hashem. Hashem heard their groaning and Hashem remembered his covenant with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Hashem saw the children of Israel and Hashem knew. (Shemot 2:24-25)

Only after Bnei Yisrael cry out does Hashem listen. The primordial scream is redemptive because it provides an opportunity for expression and a path to connect to another. The cry heralds the beginning of healing and of reconciliation.

We have another narrative in Tanach where the Jewish people sit in silence on the brink of destruction and a primordial cry is the catalyst for their redemption. In Megillat Esther the decree is issued by Achashverosh to exterminate the Jewish people and Mordechai responds with wailing at the palace gates.

Mordechai does not engage in an orderly prayer rather a visceral cry that shakes the heavens and the depths. It is his cry that moves Esther from inertia to action. She seeks an audience with the King and through a series of fortunate events she saves the Jewish people.

The act of crying out to Hashem is also recounted by the rabbis of the Talmud. Masechet Taanit describes the rabbinic practice of instituting public fasts as a mechanism for breaking a drought and bringing rain. However, the Talmud lists a number of occasions where the decree of public fasts failed to bring the rain. It is only after the people are moved to tears that the skies open.

The Talmud goes on to describe the waters from the deep rising to greet the waters from above. Perhaps we can also understand the waters of the deepto be the tears that come from deep within us. When these tears well up, they beckon the water from above so there is a mingling of the human and the divine.

Lastly, we embed the act of crying in our approach to standing in judgement before Hashem each year on Rosh Hashanah. We use the non-verbal sound of the shofar to channel our prayers. Our rabbis compare the blasts of the shofar to human sobs and weeping. In particular, one of the most primal human cries the cry of a mother for her lost or absent children. The Haftarah readings for both days continue this theme with the story of Hannah pining for a son and the allusion in the prophet Jeremiah to Rachel crying for her sons.

As this secular year draws to a close, this shabbat is the last of 2021. This year has indeed brought with it a series of unfortunate events such as lockdowns, illness, floods and death. While our initial reaction may have been stunned silence, we have then had plenty opportunities and reasons to cry. May these cries herald the beginning of a redemptive healing for us and for the world.

Rabbanit Judith Levitan is a lawyer who regularly represents the NSW Jewish community at interfaith events, runs womens tefilah services and teaches bat mitzvah.

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Excerpt from:

Just sometimes there are no words - Australian Jewish News

Category: Talmud
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