Shabbat Vayeshev

Written by Yuval Keren Wednesday, 14 December 2005

Shabbat Vayeshev

I would like you to join me on a journey through time and space. We are travelling back in time, 100, 200, 500, 1000, 2000 and then 2160 years ago. We travel South East, cross the English Channel, the Alps, hover over the Italian boot, past the Balkans, Turkey and the Eastern Mediterranean. We land on top of a high mountain in a busy city. We chat with the locals and realise that their language sounds somewhat familiar and after some time we realise where we are. The place is the Land of Israel and we are in Jerusalem. The land has been liberated from the YEVANIM (the Greek) some time ago and we just happen to land there when people come from all over the land to celebrate the PESACH — the Festival of Passover. We walk towards the centre of the city. There we see the glorious Temple — the centre of Worship for all the people of the land. This is the holiest place in the holiest city in the holiest land. We look around us and absorb the sights and the sounds. What can we hear? We can hear the animals mooing and baaing. We can hear people wheeling and dealing. But we can also hear children! Children laughing, children crying and children asking questions. Children shouting with joy, fear, frustration or just shouting because they are children.
We can also see children. The youngest ones are being carried on their parents’ shoulders. Some of them are carried on the backs of animals. Some hold hands with their parents and the rest are running around freely, meeting friends and making acquaintances. The place is certainly not the quietest place we have ever been to, but it isn’t the noisiest either.

We now return back to our own time and place. We find ourselves in a place of worship somewhere in the UK. Nobody is wheeling and dealing and everyone is listening very attentively. Everyone together, as one body - sits and stands, prays silently or aloud and sings. We look around and see no animals. We also see very few children. The children are not very young and they are very well behaved. They try not to talk to each other but if they forget for a moment and make some noise then they are immediately hushed by the adults around them. When one of them cannot stand the silence any more and starts making too much noise then someone approaches the parents and asks them to kindly take the child to the noise-insulated crèche around the corner. The child is removed and peace and quiet are again restored.

One of my strongest childhood memories is the synagogue. As far back as I can remember I was always encouraged to go to synagogue. When I was very small I used to go there on Sabbaths and festivals with an adult. Later I used to just walk there on my own. Children and adult, young and old, regular worshippers or visitors all used to pray together. It was not the most silent of environments but it was not noisy either. When someone wanted to have a chat or smoke a cigarette (not on Shabbat of course) then they could just step outside. The Synagogue yard was just as important for the worshippers as the synagogue building itself. Traditional Sefaradi services are long and this gives sufficient time for both adults and children to socialise and worship. As a child I was very involved in synagogue life. We used to be blessed by the Rabbi and we used to collect sweeties when these were thrown on a Bar Mitzvah child or a bridegroom on the Shabbat before his wedding. I stood there with a Siddur in my hands — sometimes enjoying the prayers and sometimes wishing I was in the playground. There is no doubt in my mind that this early experience has had a contribution towards my religious choice in life.

As Progressive Judaism has chosen the path of KAVANNAH, of aiming our thoughts and prayers to the service of God. Services have become shorter and wandering in and out of service is far less acceptable. The environment has become quieter and we pray together as one body. We therefore find it hard to accept any external disturbances and noise, any noise can distract us. Some also find the noise of children hard to bear. We think that children’s religious education is important and we spend time and effort teaching them Hebrew and Judaism. Yet, we do not always welcome children to our synagogues. We like the idea — but we do not like IT.
When a small child comes to synagogue, the parents are gently reminded that ‘we do have a crèche, you know? It is just around the corner!’. When a child makes some noise in the service then it is the duty of the regulars nearest to the child to shush him or her and to remind the parents about the existence of the crèche. If children are to be seen and not heard on ordinary shabbatot then they are not to be seen or heard during High Holidays. We do whatever we can to expel the little noisy things away from our sight and hearing. I have seen the latest sound and vision technologies used in the construction of synagogue crèches. Some are designed so that the sound from the synagogue is conveyed into the crèche and you can see the synagogue and its worshippers from the crèche. I suspect that even this is not for the benefit of the children but rather it is for the benefit of parents who can have the opportunity to leap between these distinct worlds of parenting and worshipping. We conduct child-friendly family services where almost only parents and their children attend and we advertise them well in advance so as to minimise the trauma to adults who do not want to worship in the presence of children. We conduct children services during adult services so that someone could mind our children while we are busy with developing our own spirituality.
Ezekiel compares us to a holy flock of sheep or goats. “As Jerusalem is filled with holy flock during her festivals, so shall the ruined cities be filled with flocks of people. And they shall know that I am God” (Ezekiel 36:38).
The Midrash (Midrash Tanhuma) warns us that “if there are no kids, there will be no he-goats; if there are no he-goats, there will be no flock; if there is no flock, there will be no shepherd; if there is no shepherd, the world cannot stand.”
We must ensure that there are kids in our small Temple and that they take part in our discussions with the Divine Presence. The alternative might seem attractive at the present but we are taking the risk of paying dearly for this exclusion by shutting away our religion from our children’s hears, minds …. and memories.

Yuval Keren