Rabbi Eisenman
"The
Sounds of Silence" is a song by the American music duo Simon &
Garfunkel. The song hit No. 1 on the Hot 100 on December 4, 1965. It
spent 12 weeks on the chart. By January 1966, it had sold one million
copies. (Wikipedia)
I
know most rabbis will call people before Chanukah; however, I
realized that the call after Chanukah can be even
more appreciated.
Ethel
Moshkowitz (named changed) taught me this important lesson and since
then, every year for the last six years I call her on the day after
Chanukah.
It
was six years ago on the day after Chanukah when I met Ethel in the
local kosher grocery and realized that she had forgotten one bag of
groceries at the check-out line. I told the cashier that I would
bring her the forgotten bag.
Ethel
lives in a one bedroom apartment in a high-rise building in Passaic.
I
called and told Ethel I had the groceries; and asked her, “If it
was not too much trouble could I drop it by?”
Early
that afternoon I drove to Passaic Ave and pressed the elevator button
for the sixth floor.
As
the elevator made its steady climb upward I thought just how happy
Ethel must be.
Her
son and daughter-in-law lived less than a mile away in Clifton and
she had just spent Shabbos Chanukah by them along with their married
children who live in Lakewood.
I
could only imagine the nachas Ethel had from being
with her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
As
soon as the doors opened to the sixth floor I could hear the
deafening sound of a blaring radio.
As
I neared apartment 6B I realized that the blasting radio was
emanating from Ethel’s apartment!
I
rang her bell, knocked loudly and finally after what seemed like an
eternity, Ethel opened the door.
“Hello
Rabbi, please come in for a minute.”
I
did not want to insult her, however, I did need her to lower the
volume so I jokingly said, “That must be a very interesting show on
the radio for you to have it on so loud!”
Ethel
looked up and with complete sincerity replied, “Oh, the radio is
on? I was not even listening; sometimes I forget I had turned it on.”
And
then I uttered the words which I regretted saying the minute they
left my mouth, “If you are not listening then why have the radio on
and why so loud?”
Ethel
suddenly became solemn and clarified somewhat apologetically,
“Rabbi,
let me explain.
Today
is the day after Chanukah.
Today
everyone went home and back to their regular busy routine.
My
grandchildren were restless to get back to Lakewood and they drove
home this morning.
And
I am sure that my son and daughter-in- law are appreciating the peace
and quiet as they are now able to get back to their regular work
routine.
I
also came back to my apartment today.
However,
for me what does today mean?
Does
it mean getting back into my ‘busy or exciting’ routine?
For
me it means one thing: loneliness.
For
the last few days of Chanukah I heard the voices of Jewish children.
I
heard them when I awoke and when I went to sleep.
When
I arrived back home I was ‘welcomed’ with the same sounds that
have greeted me since my husband passed away - the sounds
of silence.
The
silence is so painful and so haunting that I put on the radio just to
hear another human voice.
I
am sorry if the radio was disturbing.
For
me the day after Chanukah or any Yom Tov when everyone excitedly gets
back to their ‘real lives’, is the day I go back to my silent and
lonely home.
What
for others is a day of joy, for me is a day of sadness”.
As
I left her with the red bag of groceries and made my way to the
elevator, I turned around and saw Ethel Moshkowitz close her
apartment door behind her. A minute later her radio was back on,
perhaps a drop lower than before.
