Voices of Torah

אָמַר רַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן כְּגַוְונָא דָא אוֹרַיְיתָא קָאִים בֵּין תְּרֵי בָּתִּים, כְּמָה דִכְתִיב, (ישעיהו ח׳:י״ד) לִשְׁנֵי בָּתֵּי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְגו'. חַד סְתִימָא עִלָּאָה. וְחַד אִתְגַּלְיָא יַתִּיר. (סתימא) עִלָּאָה (דא) קוֹל גָּדוֹל דִּכְתִיב, (דברים ה׳:י״ט) קוֹל גָדוֹל וְלא יָסָף.

וְהַאי קוֹל פְּנִימָאָה אִיהוּ דְּלָא אִשְׁתְּמַע וְלָא אִתְגַּלְּיָא. וְדָא הוּא כַּד נְבִיעַ בֵּי גָרוֹן אַפִּיק (ביה) ה' בְּחֲשַׁאי וּנְבִיעַ תָּדִיר וְלָא פָּסַק. וְאִיהוּ דַּקָּה פְּנִימָאָה דְּלָא אִשְׁתְּמַע לְעָלְמִין.

וּמֵהָכָא נָפְקָא אוֹרַיְיתָא דְּאִיהוּ קוֹל יַעֲקֹב. וְהַאי אִשְׁתְּמַע (ד"א דאשתמע) דְּנָפְקָא (ד"א נפקא) מֵהַהִיא דְּלָא אִשְׁתְּמַע. וּלְבָתַר אִתְאַחִיד דִּבּוּר בַּהֲדֵיהּ וְנָפַק לְבַר מֵחֵילֵיהּ וּמִתָּקְפֵּיהּ. וְקוֹל דְּיַעֲקֹב דְּאִיהוּ אוֹרַיְיתָא אָחִיד בֵּין תְּרֵי נִקְבֵי. אָחִיד בְּהַאי פְּנִימָאָה דְּלָא אִשְׁתְּמַע. וְאָחִיד בְּהַאי דִלְבַר דְּאִשְׁתְּמַע.

R. Simeon proceeded: ‘In the same way the Torah is situated between two houses, one recondite and on high, and the other more accessible. The one on high is the “Great Voice” referred to in the verse, “a great voice which did not cease” (Deut. 5, 19)’

This Voice is in the recesses and is not heard or revealed, and when it issues from the throat it utters the aspirate without sound and it flows on without ceasing, though it is so tenuous as to be inaudible.

From this issues the Torah, which is the voice of Jacob. The audible voice issues from the inaudible. In due course speech is attached to it, and through the force of that speech it emerges into the open. The voice of Jacob, which is the Torah, is thus attached to two females, to this inner voice which is inaudible, and to this outer voice which is heard.

—Zohar, Bereishit

The premise of the Zohar in the previous chapter is that when a man is at home, he is under the great dignity of being with his heavenly partner (that is, the female,) and the Home is this foundation of completeness. The Torah lives in two homes, one stacked in the other, the Great Voice that eminates a hhh sound, inaudible, and the audible voice that emerges from that.

Jacob, who dwells in tents as opposed to his brother Esau, is questioned by his father Isaac when Jacob seeks his blessing disguised as Esau. Isaac notices, "Your hands are the hands of Esau but your voice is the voice of Jacob." This is the unhideable refined voice that Torah emanates from, for Jacob who dwells at home — and the Zohar notes that a man is greater at home than, say, hunting in the fields — and learns Torah. It is the same voice that in Jewish tradition is not rough or aggressive as befits traditional masculinity; it fits a Jewish masculinity that is at one with its feminine side and capable of both the supernal qualities of understanding and wisdom.

In Hebrew or Aramaic, the word home “bayit” or “beyt” has an expansive reach. It can mean any form of dwelling space. For this reason, the boxes in which the scrolls for tefillin (which have Torah verses written on them) are kept are called “homes.” 

There are two tefillin, two homes, the arm tefillin (connected to the heart), and the head tefillin (connected to the head.) The order in which tefillin is put on goes from arm to head, as though moving from the silent but greater voice which has one compartment for all of the verses in tefillin, to the audible voice that has a less continuous flow — the head tefillin has four compartments, and only when they are put on do the words written in the tefillin scroll emerge from our head to our mouths, to clear voice.

Torah, as a concept, is the light that ultimately illuminates the world, but its form shifts from one house to another as it enters our world — couched in one unending breath at first (the hhh sound), the static background that we cannot hear, to the words that are audible and inform us. 

This is parallel to our experience of our world around us. We see and hear the protests and conversations, the ideas and expressions, but they are small places in comparison to the background noise, the fear and anxiety, the joy and exaltation that is unspoken — so much larger but so much less audible.

I was thinking about what people might need to know, what they might need to experience in these coming months. The imminence of the unspoken voice, that is, the sheer reality of the lives of everyone around us in our immediate area — whether they feel under threat by our government, whether they feel uplifted by their neighbor, whether they are curious about the world, whether they feel sad or happy. I sense that people are becoming sensitive to it, interested in it, like a great wave of humanity is beginning to crest. Can we transcend beyond words which allow us to stay insensitive?