One of my favorite Hebrew words is “tzimtzum” (pronounced TZEEM-tzoom). This beautiful Kabbalistic (mystical) concept teaches that holiness begins with the willingness to contract ourselves in order to make space for another. The sixteenth-century Kabbalists, especially Rabbi Isaac Luria, taught that before creation itself, God contracted the Divine Presence in order to make room for creation. If that is how God creates, perhaps that is also how we are called to live.
Tzimtzum means taking a deep breath, intentionally pausing, holding back our immediate thoughts and reactions, and listening deeply. The Jewish mystics teach that whenever we make space for another human being, we also make space for the Divine Presence. In choosing to pause, listen, and create room for another person’s voice, we become partners in God’s ongoing work of bringing wholeness into the world.
That teaching feels especially relevant in a world that too often mistakes noise for wisdom and immediacy for understanding.
We live in a world of constant motion and endless chatter. Technology keeps us connected twenty-four hours a day. We expect immediate replies to texts, emails, and phone calls. Conversations often become competitions, with people speaking over one another instead of listening to one another. News, opinions, and commentary never seem to stop. Amid all of this, it becomes increasingly difficult to hear our own thoughts, let alone the hearts of those around us.
I know I am not immune to this. Too often, I speak when I should be listening. I react when I should first reflect. We all have moments when slowing down and creating space would lead to greater understanding, deeper compassion, and wiser decisions.
This week, we begin reading the fifth and final book of the Torah, D’varim (Deuteronomy). The Hebrew word d’varim means “words.” Yet before we encounter those words, the Torah offers us something else. Between the end of B’midbar (Numbers) and the beginning of D’varim, the Torah scroll contains an unusually large empty space. It is an intentional pause. A sacred breath.
Before Moses speaks his final words to the Israelites, the Torah invites us to stop, reflect on the journey that has brought us to this moment, express gratitude for the gift of Torah, and prepare ourselves for what we are about to hear. Moses understands that he cannot ask the Israelites to move forward, until he first asks them to look back. Reflection, the Torah teaches, is not a luxury. It is the beginning of wisdom.
The remarkable sofer (Torah scribe) Rabbi Gedaliah Druin once taught me that when we look at a Torah scroll, we should pay as much attention to the white spaces as we do to the black letters. Without those empty spaces, the letters would run together and become impossible to read. Meaning itself depends upon the spaces between the words.
Those spaces are a beautiful expression of tzimtzum. They create clarity. They invite reflection. They remind us that wisdom is found not only in what is spoken, but also in what is left unsaid.
As the rabbis taught in Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Sages):
“All my days I grew up among the sages, and I have found nothing better for the body than silence. Study is not the most important thing, but action. Whoever speaks excessively brings about sin.” (Pirkei Avot 1:17)
Silence is not an end in itself. Rather, it is the sacred space from which wise words, compassionate hearts, and faithful actions emerge.
As a k’hilah kedoshah, a holy community, we are called to cultivate those sacred spaces in our own lives and in our life together. When we make room for another person’s voice, when we resist the urge to rush to judgment, and when we create moments for thoughtful reflection, we strengthen our relationships, deepen our sense of community, and make room for the Divine Presence to dwell among us.
As we begin the Book of D’varim this week, may we pay attention not only to the Torah’s words, but also learn from its silences. May we practice the sacred art of tzimtzum, making space for one another, deepening our understanding, and inviting the Divine Presence to dwell among us.
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Sharon L. Sobel