February 12, 2025|י"ד שבט ה' אלפים תשפ"ה Living Synesthesia By Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

 

וכל העם ראים את הקולת

and the entire people saw the sounds.  

What does it mean to “see” sounds? The Zohar writes, “These sounds were etched into the darkness, cloud and mist and were visible.” The Zohar understands the pasuk literally: the sounds could be seen.

 

Though our rational minds dismiss this suggestion as mere mysticism and unrealistic, there is in fact a rare neurological condition called synesthesia which causes the senses to be mixed up and to see sounds as colors. Jan MacKay, a woman with the condition, describes that she sees sneezes as turquoise. “One of my earliest memories is that I could tell the difference between Canadian and American accents because the Canadian accent is more yellow.” Neurologist Richard Cytowic explained, “You know the word anesthesia, which means no sensation, synesthesia means joined sensation, and some people are born with two or more of their senses hooked together so that my voice, for example, is not just something that they hear, but it’s also something that they might see.”

 

Though this condition only occurs in one in twenty thousand, it is possible that for the seminal moment of Matan Torah, Hashem wanted to leave an indelible and unforgettable impression and so He caused us all to experience synesthesia so that we literally saw the sounds as the Zohar suggests.

 

The Kli Yakar comments that they didn’t see the sounds as colors, but they actually visualized God’s commandments, each letter, word and sentence they were hearing was projected before them. The vocalized words were expressed not only in sound waves, but materialized as physical letters and words as if projected on a screen.

 

The Ibn Ezra interprets the expression “see the sounds” much more metaphorically. We know that in many places in Tanach the expression “to see” is used for something that is intangible or conceptual. Re’eh anochi nosein lifneichem hayom beracha ukelala, see I place before you today blessings and curses. Seeing is the sense we reference when we seek to convey the powerful impression something makes. In our own vernacular, when we want the person speaking to us to feel heard and validated we say, “I see what you are saying, I see your perspective on this issue.”

 

The Zohar, Kli Yakar and Ibn Ezra all offer fascinating interpretations, but I would like to suggest something a little different. Some speakers are talented at communicating ideas. They are well organized, articulate and effectively transmit the information, idea or concept. Yet as successful as these speakers are, their content remains intellectual, cognitive, and abstract. Much more rare and unusual are those speakers that are able to paint a picture with their words. Their message is so compelling and persuasive, the listener not only hears what they are saying, but sees their vision and pictures themselves living the life being described. This information doesn’t remain abstract and theoretical, but is absorbed by the listener such that they can envision themselves transformed and behaving differently.

 

The giving of the Torah was undoubtedly an educational, pedagogic experience. Laws and rules were communicated and transmitted to a nation that was now bound to observe them. For most people law is dry, sterile, and uninspiring. Law books and statutory codes are for reference only and are grossly unexciting and monotonous. One could easily have mistaken Matan Torah as an information session, an intellectual transmission of the new laws incumbent on the people.

 

Perhaps the Torah is telling us that this description couldn’t be further from the truth. At that fateful and faithful moment at Sinai, Hashem painted a picture for his people of a purpose-driven life, of an existence that is sacred and sanctified, of a lifestyle that is extraordinarily rewarding and spiritually satisfying. Perhaps V’chol ha’am ro’im es ha’kolos means they didn’t hear about 39 categories of forbidden creative labor on Shabbos, they saw what a Shabbos is like, they felt the serenity, tranquility and rest that Shabbos provides. They heard the laws of Shabbos but they pictured the Shabbos table filled with family and friends, they smelled the cholent and tasted the chicken soup. At Har Sinai, they didn’t just hear about the detailed laws of the prohibition against stealing, they envisioned an ethical society and pictured themselves submitting honest tax returns.

 

Indeed, Har Sinai is the defining moment of our history not for the laws that we heard but the pictures and the images that we saw and became the vision of a lifestyle that is divinely enriching and elevating. According to the Ramban, there is a biblical commandment to remember Har Sinai each and every day of our lives. Sinai cannot be something in the past, a piece of history, a part of an ancient record. Har Sinai remains relevant, compelling and real each day when we are ro’im es hakolos, when the voice of God spoken that day animates our lives such that it can be seen through us and our homes.

 

Har Sinai is alive when Judaism for us is not a burden but a beracha, not limiting but limitless in its meaning, not a prescription for hardship but for holiness. V’chol ha’am ro’im es hakolos. The entire nation seeing the voice, envisioning the message, and absorbing the sounds, is in many ways the mission of Jewish parenting.

 

What do our children see?  What are we celebrating for our children, for our family, for ourselves? Are we celebrating the things and accomplishments that we truly value? Here is why that question is critical:  Because whatever you celebrate, that’s what you’ll value and that is what you children will value and sacrifice for. 

 

Our Judaism must not be commemorative, our commitment to Torah must not be a casual connection because of a past.  It must be vibrant, dynamic, alive, passionate in the present. 

 

The Midrash tells us that when Hashem gave the Torah, כפה עליהם הר כגגית, He held it over our heads and said accept it or שם תהא קבורתכם, there you will be buried.  Many ask, shouldn’t it say פה, here, not שם, there?  If Hashem is going to threaten us, shouldn’t He get it right? 

 

I believe, and we are sadly seeing empirically all around us, that if you don’t feel the weight of Torah over your head, the responsibility of a deep, profound and passionate commitment to it personally, you may not spiritually die in that moment.  Perhaps you can go a generation or two.  But שם, down the line, a few generations in, it will catch up.  If we negotiate with our Yiddishkeit, if we pick and choose, if we are casual about it, down the road it will come crashing down on our head. 

 

Israel’s war against her enemies and the rise of antisemitism have posed formidable challenges but they also bring an opportunity.  How we react, what we are doing about it, how focused we are on the fate of our people, can and will leave an indelible and enduring impression on our children and grandchildren. 

 

If we want our families to be passionate, practicing, and proud Jews, living and learning Torah and loving Israel when they are שם, down the road, they need to רואים את הקולת, not only hear, but see our voices in action now.