The Sound of a Jewish Future

We've all experienced it before: You're sitting in services, hopefully connecting with the liturgy or music, the sermon or silent prayer—maybe you’re even having a truly deep, spiritual moment—when, suddenly, your concentration is abruptly shattered by the wail of a crying baby or the bedlam of noisy children, seemingly unaware of the fact that there’s a service taking place around them. Without any warning, your prayerfulness now seems a distant memory. The moment is lost, and all that you can think of are the annoyances lingering on all sides. So much for your spirituality!

Yes, I would be lying were I to claim that I couldn't, at least a little, periodically, relate with such feelings. However, they make me recall and appreciate some of my own childhood memories, times when I have been on the other end of such scenarios.

For instance, I recall occasions when I was a young child, no older than four or five years old, when my parents would take me and my elder brother, Reuven, to Shabbat services at the Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati, my mother’s workplace. I remember the fun my brother and I would have each Saturday morning, and particularly how there was an older gentleman who would entertain Reuven and me, keeping us happy during the lengthy services. I remember, too, how Reuven and I would tease this man by leaving cheerios on his chair whenever he’d rise for a prayer, so that, when he would sit back down, he would sit atop the cereal, crushing it to pieces.

Of course, I didn’t appreciate it then, but this man—who I now know was the dean of the rabbinical school, Rabbi Ken Ehrlich!—probably wouldn’t have minded being able to spend more time focusing on the services he had gone to attend. Without the “assistance” of my brother and me, he might have engaged more fully in saying his prayers, in enjoying the beautiful music, and in observing the students he was supposed to be there to assess as they led services. But, instead, he played with my brother and me.

Believe it or not, there is something so remarkably Jewish about the way Rabbi Ehrlich focused not only on his prayers, but also on the children around him.

There is a story in the midrash, the interpretive rabbinic literary works, on Song of Songs 1:4, מָשְׁכֵנִי אַחֲרֶיךָ, נָרוּצָה, “draw me after you, we will run.” The Rabbis explain:

At Sinai, when the Jews were ready to receive the Torah, God said to them, “What? Am I supposed to give you the Torah without any collateral? Bring Me some good guarantors to ensure that you will keep it properly, and I will give it to you!” The Jews said to God, “Master of the Universe, our ancestors will be our guarantors.” God said to them, “They themselves need guarantors! Bring Me better guarantors, and I shall give you the Torah.” The Jews said: “Master of the Universe, our prophets will be our guarantors.” God said to them, “They too are in need of their own guarantors! Bring Me better guarantors, and I shall give you the Torah.” The Jews said: “Our children will be our guarantors!” God said: “They, certainly, are good guarantors. For their sake, I shall give you the Torah.”

Here is the reality: Those noises, commotions, and interruptions—in short, the cacophony—they all are hallmarks of a good Jewish future for us to anticipate in the years to come. Each and every thud or scream is proof of the vitality of our community. In the words of Song of Songs, it is the sound of us running, hand in hand, generation to generation, to a vibrant Jewish tomorrow.

Certainly, I can only guess at what Rabbi Ehrlich might have been thinking when, for the thousandth time, he sat down upon a chairful of cheerios. Whatever went through his mind, though, I am incredibly grateful to him for having set aside any annoyance he had from Reuven and my disruptions; by doing what he did, he helped to make us both into good guarantors for the Torah. In our prayer spaces, too, let us strive to see the future of Judaism in every child attending services. When you hear their voices (or even sometimes shrieks!), the sounds of them playing (and ostensibly not praying)—those apparent “distractions”—remember that what you’re really hearing is the sound of a bright Jewish future!