My father zt”l came to San Jose a few months before Yeshivat Kerem officially opened and agreed to speak at, what was at the time, the only local traditional congregation. The topic, “Women in Judaism,” one of the most controversial on the Jewish lecture circuit during the mid-seventies, was specifically chosen to introduce a Rosh Yeshiva comfortable and adept at addressing any topic.

The lecture was fascinating. I was in awe of my father’s ability to majestically weave together numerous Talmudic and Midrashic sources that seemed to address the most modern questions. I was bothered when I noticed a couple sitting in the row just before mine, who were making a display of not paying attention to a word my father was saying. The woman was reading a magazine and crocheting, while her husband righteously opened a volume of Talmud translated into English.

The rabbi of the congregation rose immediately after the extended and excited applause ended, and offered to open the floor to any and all questions. The couple in the row before me put away all their stuff, took out lists of prepared questions, and jumped up to challenge my father. The man began by quoting a Talmudic saying that my father had raised in his lecture and explained. It was clear that the questioner had paid no attention to the lecture. The entire crowd was embarrassed. The man and his wife were oblivious. My friends and I were almost apoplectic. The chutzpah!

My father respectfully listened, and responded with seeming admiration, “It is clear, dear sir, that you have studied Talmud!”

The man began to float, “Yes, Rabbi. Thank you.” He glanced around the crowd with a smug smile, and then turned back to face my father, eager for more words of praise.

“Some Talmud, yes. Obviously, not enough!”

I don’t remember much of the specifics of what followed. I do recall that the man got what he deserved.

I saw my father’s greatness in contrast to the man’s insignificance.

I witnessed many such occasions, but they all pale in comparison to observing my father’s greatness contrasted with the greatness of others. Listening and observing his interactions with my grandfather zt”l, his Rebbi, Rav Hutner zt”l, and his chavrusa, Rav Freifeld zt”l, I learned far more about his greatness. Greatness contrasted with greatness is far more impressive than greatness contrasted with the insignificant.

I think of the Song of the Sea as greatness contrasted with insignificance. God manifested His Presence, saved the Children of Israel, crushed the Egyptians, and allowed the newly freed slaves to observe the bloated, broken corpses of their former masters float was ashore. The people looked at what they considered great and mighty just a few moments earlier and realized how insignificant it all was when confronted by God’s awesome power. They sang of what they now understood about God’s “Great arm,” and they committed themselves to glorify God forever. They sang and they continued to sing. How can you possibly express all they witnessed and understood in words?

The men finished their song. Miriam rose and took a small drum in her hand, and began to dance with the other women. They too, sang, but only of singing. The women were not contrasting God’s greatness with the Egyptian’s insignificance. They were singing of the contrast between what they had seen of God’s greatness in Egypt with what they had just witnessed of God’s greatness at the Sea. Their musical instruments were always at the ready to sing new songs of God’s praises. Each song was a statement that there is always more to come. “Who can speak of God’s powers? One who can make all His praises heard.” (Psalms 106:2 – I think; I typing this while sitting on a plane) The verse does not say, “Who can express all God’s praises,” but, “Who can make all His praises heard.” Only the person who can sing a song that promises there’s more to follow, may begin to speak of God’s strength.

Miriam and the women did not attempt to sing of the contrast between God and Egypt; they sang a promise: “If we saw this, imagine how much more there is to follow!” Greatness compared to greatness.

How do we pray? Are our words an attempt to express what we understand? Or, are they in the spirit of Miriam and the women, a promise, and opening whisper, of all that is to come?

Author Info:
Learn & discover the Divine prophecies with Rabbi Simcha Weinberg from the holy Torah, Jewish Law, Mysticism, Kabbalah and Jewish Prophecies. The Foundation Stone™ is the ultimate resource for Jews, Judaism, Jewish Education, Jewish Spirituality & the holy Torah.