Can Your Judaism Survive Silence ?

[music] >> People love Judaism when Judaism is alive. When the shul is packed, when the zemiros are loud, when the cholent is hot, when the music [music] is playing, when everyone around them is doing what they do. But I sometimes wonder, what would your Yiddishkeit look like if you were completely [music] alone? No community, no social pressure, no expectations, no applause, no one watching, just you and Hashem. Because that's where the real story begins. How do you learn in an empty beis [music] medrash? Not during a packed night seder where the room is humming and you can barely find [music] a seat. I mean when it's quiet, when nobody would notice if you would close the Gemara. When there's no one to impress, there's no status attached to it. [music] It's just you sitting across from a Gemara trying to connect to the words of Hashem simply because they're the words of Hashem. How do you daven when life sometimes forces you to daven [music] b'yechidus? There's no minyan shliach tzibur, there's no crowd, there's no singing, there's no energy carrying you. It's just you [music] standing in a corner whispering shmoneh esrei into the silence. How's your davening then? How does your Shabbos look in a hospital? When there's no beautifully set table, there's no guests, there's no atmosphere, there's just fluorescent lights and paper [music] cups and machines beeping in the background. How's your Shabbos then? Do you still feel the queen there? Everybody loves a good Friday night seudah. But sometimes I wonder, what does your malveh malkah look like? Shabbos is over, the dishes are piled up, everyone's exhausted, the house is a wreck, >> [music] >> the inspiration faded, nobody's singing anymore. How's your seudah then? Do you escort the holy queen with song and holiness? Or was the whole Shabbos thing sort of just an experience? How does your ahavas Yisrael look when the Jew next to you doesn't validate you, but he threatens you? When he disagrees with you, when he competes [music] with you, when he gets the aliyah that you wanted, when he gets the success you wanted, [music] when he gets the respect you wanted, when he seems to be doing a avodas Hashem better, do you still love him then? Or do you only love Jews who validate you and vote like you and make you feel good about yourself? How do your middos look inside your own home? Not in public, not at shul, not during night seder, at home, with your wife, when nobody's watching. How do you speak to your husband when nobody would ever know? How does your avodas Hashem look on vacation? When nobody around you knows who you are, when there's no community expectations, when there's no image to maintain, there's no social consequences, do you still reach for Hashem or was your Yiddishkeit sort of just environmental the whole time? You see, there's a version of a of Judaism that [music] lives beautifully inside of crowds and music and inspiration and structure and social reinforcement. >> [music] >> But then there's another type of Judaism, a deeper type, a quieter Yiddishkeit, a Judaism that survives in empty rooms, [music] in hospital hallways, in airports, in loneliness, in exhaustion, in silence. That's the Judaism that built this nation. The Judaism of Jews who kept Shabbos in the labor camps with a crust of bread. The Judaism of Jews who whisper Shema under blankets. >> [music] >> The Judaism of Jews who learn Torah alone in basements even though no one else cared. The Judaism of Yidden who didn't need big shuls to daven well. The Judaism of Yidden who didn't need big kailalim to learn well. The Judaism built by gedolim who would roar about Torah even when it was unpopular, even when it got them in trouble, even when it got them killed. That's the Judaism we inherited. And that's really the only Judaism worth bequeathing. Because at the end of the day, the real question is not how Jewish are you in front of other people. The real question is when the [music] singing stops, when the crowd disappears, when nobody is clapping for you, when there's no social pressure, there's no validation, there's no audience, there's no community carrying you, when you close the door of your house and you're all alone, the question is >> [music] >> how Jewish are you then?