Wednesday, November 8, 2023

Noise Complaint

Well, this has been sitting in drafts for a while now. 

A month ago, the Rehovot municipality published a letter from the mayor regarding the neighboring city of Nes Ziona.
Here's a translation of some of the letter:

"Last night at 9:35 pm, alarms were heard in Nes Ziona. These alarms are so loud that they can be heard clearly even in the inner neighborhoods of Rehovot, on streets which are not adjacent to Nes Ziona - such as Sha'areim and Oshiyot.
As a result, the residents of the city mistakenly believed that the alarm was within Rehovot and entered shelters - without need.
It is unnecessary to write at length about the importance of maintaining the peace of mind of the public, as much as possible, and not causing unnecessary anxiety.
This is not the first time that the residents of Rehovot thought that an alarm has sounded in the city, to the extent that they entered shelters.
We ask that you regulate the decibel level of the Nes Ziona sirens, such that they do not alarm the residents of Rehovot.
This will be a significant improvement for the residents of Rehovot, so as not to wear them out with alarms both of Nes Ziona and the true alarms of Rehovot.
Please address this matter as soon as possible."


Or, TL;DR 
Knock, knock. Hey guys, seriously? Can you turn down the volume?

Sunday, November 5, 2023

Pesukim on My Mind

There's a pasuk in Amos I think about a good deal, not just recently. It makes me feel validated. The pausk is Amos 3:6, but here are pesukim 4 & 5, too, for context:

ד הֲיִשְׁאַג אַרְיֵה בַּיַּעַר, וְטֶרֶף אֵין לוֹ; הֲיִתֵּן כְּפִיר קוֹלוֹ מִמְּעֹנָתוֹ, בִּלְתִּי אִם-לָכָד.
ה הֲתִפֹּל צִפּוֹר עַל-פַּח הָאָרֶץ, וּמוֹקֵשׁ אֵין לָהּ; הֲיַעֲלֶה-פַּח, מִן-הָאֲדָמָה, וְלָכוֹד, לֹא יִלְכּוֹד.
ו אִם-יִתָּקַע שׁוֹפָר בְּעִיר, וְעָם לֹא יֶחֱרָדוּ; אִם-תִּהְיֶה רָעָה בְּעִיר, וַה' לֹא עָשָׂה.

My high school principal quoted that pasuk in the context of 9/11, and I think of it when I jump at sirens. When alarms go off in a city, the natural response is fear. 

*

FF and I went to the park on Shabbos afternoon, and, as it so often does, our conversation turned to, "Wait, was that a siren?" (Spoiler alert: it was not. It was a motorcycle revving and turning way more than necessary.) When I laughingly told Husbinator about our conversation (happens all the time! to everyone!), he said, "Yeah, it's called trauma." Which got me thinking about that pasuk in Amos again.

*

But it also got me thinking about a pasuk from Yeshayahu, which is part of Musaf on Rosh Hashana. Yeshayahu 27:13 says:

יג וְהָיָה בַּיּוֹם הַהוּא יִתָּקַע בְּשׁוֹפָר גָּדוֹל וּבָאוּ הָאֹבְדִים בְּאֶרֶץ אַשּׁוּר וְהַנִּדָּחִים בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם וְהִשְׁתַּחֲווּ לַה' בְּהַר הַקֹּדֶשׁ בִּירוּשָׁלִָם. 

13 And it shall come to pass on that day, that a great shofar shall be blown, and they shall come, those who were lost in the land of Assyria, and the outcasts in the land of Egypt, and they shall worship the Lord in the holy mountain in Yerushalayim.

A shofar being sounded, this time to signal the final redemption. And I giggled to myself, thinking, "When the shofar blows to signal Mashiach, you just know my first thought is going to be, 'Hey, was that an air-raid siren?'" 

Ah, black humor.

But then I had another thought. One of my teachers in seminary, Rav Beinish Ginsburg, has a shiur about the dual nature of Matza. On one hand, matza symbolizes slavery: this is the bread of affliction that our forefathers ate as slaves in the land of Egypt. On the other hand, matza symbolizes redemption: this matza that we eat, why do we eat it? Because our forefathers' bread did not have time to rise before G-d appeared and redeemed them. 

The shiur is great: I encourage you to listen yourself. Or read it. Brownies are mentioned. But the point I want to emphasize is this: a core feature of the seder night is the slavery-redemption duality.

Imagine it, says Rav Ginsburg. It's redemption time. It's time to bake bread, finish packing, and leave. Suddenly, Egyptians are pounding on your door, screaming to get out get out get out, grab your matza and get out. For years, this was a terror of slavery: Egyptian masters pounding on your door, screaming to shove matza down your throat and get out. 

And suddenly, here you are again, in the same exact dreaded situation. Egyptians. Pounding on your door. Coming for you, screaming to get out. You grab your matza and leave. Because you're free. Because it's over. Because you're safe now.

The core symbol of slavery has become the core symbol of redemption. 

Our narrative gets turned around.

We had been afraid, and our very fear becomes our freedom.

It could just happen the same way with our city-wide alarms.