Shabbat Shalom,
We enter this Shabbat in the shadow of the Yamim Noraim, the Days of Awe. Rosh Hashana opened the gates of possibility, a reminder that the world can begin anew, that we are not trapped by the past. Kol Nidre called upon us to reflect on our promises – those we have kept, those we have broken, and those we must still make with intention. And on Yom Kippur, as the sun set and the final shofar blast sounded, we were offered the greatest gift of all: the chance to return to G-d, to one another, to ourselves.
These holy days are designed to strip away the noise of the world. They provide us with the opportunity to confront our mortality, our mistakes, and our capacity for change. They push us to ask: what matters most? Whom have I hurt? How can I live differently in the year ahead? They are demanding days, but also profoundly hopeful ones.
And yet, when we lift our eyes beyond the sanctuary, we are met with a world filled with turmoil. Violence and instability continue abroad. The Jewish people feel the sting of antisemitism both subtle and overt. Here at home, we live amid cultural polarization, endless distraction, and a constant flood of information that makes it harder, not easier, to discern truth.
In this moment, it feels almost providential that we mark another anniversary: 60 years since Simon & Garfunkel released the song The Sound of Silence. Written in an era of upheaval, its words echo eerily into our present: people talking without speaking, people hearing without listening. It is a lament for a world where technology and superficiality drown out human connection.
What Paul Simon understood as a young songwriter is something our tradition has known for centuries: silence is not neutral. There is a silence that alienates. It is the silence of disconnection, the silence of bystanders, the silence of words unspoken when they are most needed. This is the silence the song warns against, a silence that “like a cancer, grows.”
However, we must also remember that Judaism offers us another kind of silence. Think of Kol Nidre night. Before the cantor sings the first note, there is a hush that falls across the congregation. That silence is not empty. It is charged, alive with presence. Or think of Yom Kippur’s Neilah service, when the gates are closing and every heart strains upward in prayer. In those moments, silence is not absence but fullness. It is the space where we can finally hear what is true: the still small voice of conscience, the cry of our neighbor, the whisper of the Divine.
This is the great juxtaposition of our moment. The world is saturated with noise yet starved of true listening. Our task, as Jews, is to cultivate the kind of silence that heals rather than harms. The intentional silence that allows us to hear “the words of the prophets written not only on subway walls” but in the lives of those who are vulnerable and overlooked. The breath of silence before speaking that prepares us to express words of justice, compassion, and peace when the world needs them most.
The work of the Federation is, in many ways, about transforming silence into connection. We ensure that the lonely are not left unheard, that the hungry are not ignored, that the wisdom of our tradition is amplified for the next generation. Together, we refuse to let our community fall into the sound of alienating silence. Instead, we create a sacred chorus of support, resilience, and hope.
During this time of reflection, we have the opportunity to reground ourselves in Paul Simon’s lyrics. To help, I strongly encourage you to take a moment, watch and listen to a rendition of the timeless song, performed by Cantor Azi Schwartz of Park Avenue Synagogue on this past Rosh Hashana. The gift of this beautiful rendition was my inspiration for today’s Shabbat message.
As we step forward from these holy days into the year ahead, let us carry with us the lessons of both song and season. May we resist the silence of alienation. May we embrace the silence of holiness. And may we fill the year to come with voices of compassion, courage, and community.
Shanah Tovah U’Metukah,
Danny Cohn
President & CEO
Jewish Federation of St. Louis