The month of truly hearing

“You can listen to Jimi Hendrix, but you can’t hear him. There’s a difference.” 

I once came across this fascinating line in an article from the early 1990s during a discussion about music and whether someone from one cultural background can truly appreciate the music of another. At first glance, it sounds like a distinction without a difference. But it isn’t. 

We can listen without hearing. 

That simple insight lies at the heart of one of the Torah’s most challenging passages, the ben sorer u’moreh, the wayward and rebellious son, at the beginning of Parshat Ki Teitzei. 

The Torah describes a child who refuses to listen to his parents. They discipline him, but he remains unmoved. Eventually, they bring him before the elders of the city and declare, “Our son is wayward and rebellious; he does not listen to our voice.” 

The passage is deeply unsettling. How can a young person face such a severe punishment for gluttony and drunkenness? Even more remarkably, the Gemara teaches that a ben sorer u’moreh “never was and never will be”. If this case never actually occurred, why does the Torah devote an entire section to it? 

Perhaps the answer lies in one word that echoes throughout the passage: “shome’a” (hearing).. 

The child does not hear his father. He does not hear his mother. He does not hear their rebuke. Then, after describing the punishment, the Torah concludes, “And all Israel shall hear and fear.” 

The message is striking. The real tragedy is not simply what this child has done. It is that he has lost the ability to hear. 

The Ohr HaChaim notices something subtle in the Torah’s wording. It says “einenu shome’a” – literally “he is not hearing”, rather than the simpler “eino shome’a”. He explains that this choice of language reveals something deeper. This child has become incapable of hearing. The words are reaching his ears, but they are no longer reaching his heart. 

Perhaps that is the Torah’s true warning. 

We live in an age of constant noise. Podcasts, WhatsApp messages, shiurim, news, social media, and endless opinions compete for our attention every waking moment. We are constantly listening. 

But how much are we truly hearing? 

A friend once told me about a teacher who met a former student after the young man had spent a year learning in Israel. The transformation was extraordinary. He had become deeply committed to Torah, to personal growth, and to his relationship with Hashem. 

When the teacher asked what had changed him, the student replied, “I discovered Mesillat Yesharim. It changed my life.” 

The teacher began to cry. 

“We learned Mesillat Yesharim throughout high school,” he said. “You even studied it for your exams.” 

The student had listened. He simply had not heard. 

That may be one of the most powerful messages of Elul. 

Throughout this precious month we are surrounded by opportunities for growth. We hear inspiring shiurim. We read words of teshuvah (repentance). We recite heartfelt tefillot. And then comes the shofar, a sound whose sole purpose is to awaken the sleeping soul. 

The question is not whether we will hear the sound. 

The question is whether we will hear its message. 

Because in the Torah, hearing is far more than receiving sound. It means allowing a message to penetrate, to challenge us, to reshape us, and ultimately to change us. 

This Elul, may we not merely listen to the shofar. 

May we truly hear it. 

And may what we hear inspire us to change, to grow, and to become the people Hashem knows we can be. 

• Rabbi Alon Friedman – Yeshiva Mizrachi