03 Feb LIVING SYNESTHESIA

The Torah’s description
of Matan Torah, the most
seminal moment in human
history, a moment that
defined not only a nation but
gave meaning and purpose
to the very creation of the
world, is extremely powerful
and dynamic, but also perplexing.
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, כגגית הר עליהם כפה, He held it over
our heads and said accept it or קבורתכם תהא שם,
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 את רואים
הקולת, not only hear, but see our voices in
action now.