Listening With An Open Heart
…בַּבֹּקֶר בַּבֹּקֶר יָעִיר לִי אֹזֶן לִשְׁמֹע
Morning by morning God awakens me, awakens my ear: teaching me to listen…
Isaiah 50:4
Last weekend, I was blessed to spend Shabbat surrounded by the rainbow trees of the Isabella Freedman Retreat Center and the love and laughter of about 80 4th–6th graders and their parents on our annual Reach for Shabbat Retreat.
On Shabbat morning, after reading the opening lines of Parashat Noah, which tell us that Noah was a righteous man in his time, we divided the children and their families into groups to participate in an age-old rabbinic debate: Was Noah truly righteous, or only righteous compared to all the evil people around him? After giving them some time to study and discuss in small groups, we invited volunteers to take part in a larger debate. Arguments flew back and forth, and at the end, we invited everyone to vote: Was Noah really righteous, or just righteous in contrast to the horrible world he lived in?
Before the vote began, one 5th-grade boy raised his hand and said, “I’m not sure how I should vote, because I feel one way, but I think the argument I heard for the other side was stronger.” His comment—so simple, so pure, so radical—stopped us in our tracks. Rabbi Deena Cowans, our Director of Family Life and Learning, smiled and said something along the lines of, “If only all of us grown-ups could be this open to those who think or feel differently than we do.”
Children keep us open and honest. They hold up a mirror to us, often speaking truths more profound than they realize. That 5th grader reminded us what it means to really listen. He didn’t say the argument changed his mind but it clearly made him think, reflect, and stay curious.
Imagine what our world might look like if we all approached disagreement this way—with humility and openness. We don’t all need to agree; in fact, our tradition warns us against that kind of uniformity. Judaism treasures mahlokhet leshem shamayim (holy debate) and the sacred friction of hevruta (studying in pairs) where we grow through the push and pull of ideas that challenge our own.
In his sweet and innocent question, this boy reminded us to listen—not passively, but actively and openly. How often are we guilty of entering conversations, lectures, or dialogues already closed off, eager only to hear our own thoughts reflected back? Or formulating our next thought or argument rather than listening to what the other has to say?
Listening takes faith, humility, and deep vulnerability. Look at Abraham in this week’s parashah, Lekh Lekha: he listened to God’s call to leave the familiar and journey into the unknown. Listening is not just about opening our ears; it’s about opening our hearts—to God, to each other, to the world.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks z’l taught:
Listening lies at the very heart of a relationship. It means that we are open to the other, that we respect them, that their perceptions and feelings matter to us…Listening does not mean agreeing, but it does mean caring. Listening is the climate in which love and respect grow.
As we continue to wade through these tender and tumultuous times, may we push ourselves to awaken each morning ready to listen—to really listen—not only to the voices we want to hear, but also to those that challenge us, stretch us, and call us toward compassion.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Rebecca Weintraub