Newsletter October 18 2011 - 20 Tishrei 5772
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The caller was still upset sixteen years after a Farewell to Simchat Torah lecture: "We were all finally just having fun after weeks of repentance, introspection, numerous laws, and one holiday after another. We were simply happy dancing with the Torah. Then, you had to ruin everything by giving an incredibly powerful and inspiring lecture on the next step, as if we still had work to do. All the fun went out the window!" His sequacious complaint reminded me of a quote I heard in a music appreciation lecture: "The public must sometimes be imposed upon, for it considers itself the composer's equal as soon as things are made too easy for it (Robert Schumann)." I love having fun, especially in my religious life, and my caller was correct in describing Simchat Torah as pure joy in our relationship with God. However, it's just at the moment when we relax our guard while dancing, that Torah imposes on us to remember that we are not the Composer's equal.
Simchat Torah of my childhood was a mix of fun and awe. The dancing was fantastic. The old Ner Israel Beit Midrash had a wooden floor, and I can still smell the dust rise as everyone in the packed room would join the Hakafot. The children lost count of all the shoulder rides on top of the same students who stole so much of our time with our fathers. We could kick our legs while riding those shoulders; something we couldn't do when riding atop our fathers. The dancers went wild with joy even while respectful of the great rabbis holding Torah scrolls at the center of each circle. Each dance began with a respectful parade of accomplished scholars and mandarins around the Bimah. Certain songs were led, not by the best singers, but by the rabbis. The dancing would end, and a sense of great awe would hover over the packed room as we tearfully read the closing chapter of the Torah, only to start again with the creation story.
While I fondly recall the fun, it is the sense of awe that most powerfully lingers in my heart. I knew my bible as well as anyone my age, and aspired to know it as well as the rabbis around whom we danced, but was discombobulated by the clear sense that the scholars I emulated were overwhelmed by how much they did not know. My grandfather zt"l was called to the same Torah reading each Simchat Torah for more than fifty years, and never felt bored, "I could study these short paragraphs for a hundred more years and still not fully grasp their meaning." He experienced each cycle of the Torah reading as an imposition to learn more and better.
We will soon return to the familiar. No festivals for a while. The rhythms of life will be restored. Simchat Torah teaches us that as long as we experience the Torah imposing a deeper understanding, more effort and thought, and that our familiarity with the bible stories does not indicate that we are the Composer's equal, we will be able to retain that Simchat Torah joy throughout the year.
So, I told my caller, "You were not a powerless victim of a lecture imposing a serious bent on an otherwise fun day; you were the empowered recipient of the gift of dancing with the Torah each time you opened its pages."
I wish you a holiday so filled with joy that it will resonate for an entire year of study that imposes a higher than ever standard of thought.
Chag Samei'ach & Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Simcha L. Weinberg President If you are interested in sponsoring our  winning Newsletter, please email info@thefoundationstone.org Go to our Blog  Follow us on Twitter   Become a Fan  |
