A Simchas Torah Memory (And Its Lesson)

This piece was originally published by CrownHeights.Info on Hosha'ana Rabbah 5783

The good rabbi made it sound so simple.

We’d been sitting in the Sukkah and Farbrenging. There’s something special about Sukkos Farbrengens.
The guest rabbi explained how Sukkos is a natural outcome from the Avoda of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur.

When we surrender to Hashem on Rosh Hashanah, and reveal our Yechida on Yom Kippur, then we are naturally happy on Zman Simchaseinu, and able to unite together with our fellow Jew in the unity of the Sukkah and the Four Minim.

True inner joy, and the ability to really connect with others, he said, are natural results of focusing on our G-dly Nefesh Hoelokis rather than our selfish Nefesh Habahamis.

Although the good rabbi made it sound simple, it didn’t sound easy, or realistic. Then, I remembered a scene from Simchas Torah years ago…

In the hours and minutes leading up to Hakafos with the Rebbe, 770 was literally “Oif Tishen Un Oif Benk”, a somewhat organized chaos. Throughout the Shul there was an array of “places”, including “pyramids” made of tables and benches and milk-boxes.

Space was tight. One person getting up on one end of a bench could cause someone at the other end to fall off. A latecomer hoping to still make it to his place on an upper level of the “bleachers” needed the help of his friends up there extending their arms to him, or those below to heave him upward, or both.
Chains, ropes, and Gartels would often be used as lifelines.

There was a palpable excitement and joyous anticipation of what was to come that night.

And yet, beneath the surface, there was also a certain tension, especially if one had not yet secured a good spot, or if the spot one had found was not considered secure, or secured…

Inevitably, a “territorial dispute” might erupt here or there, usually resolved in a mostly peaceful manner, louder voices of a group often as effective in scaring away a would-be “interloper” as a pat on the cheek, or slap on the back… (Chassidim, ingrained with the values of “Shleimus Haaretz” were sure to stand their ground…)

At this most joyous of times, there were individuals feeling downright miserable, while “allied forces” stood strong to protect their “land”, holding on dearly to what they had, not giving an inch, certainly not to an “outsider”…

And then, as the Rebbe entered, something changed. A miracle happened.

As the Rebbe turned to the crowd or danced his Hakafah, we all became part of one rising tide of Chassidim. One wave of his holy hand, and we jumped and danced, and were brought into a different world, a truer reality.

Suddenly there was more space available in the heavily fought for “turf”.

Here, give me your hand, I’ll help you up. You can squeeze your tippy-toe onto the square inch of space near my toe. Or on my toe. Quick, jump up here and stand in “my” place for a bit so you can also see the Rebbe, and perhaps see that he sees you as well…

As we stood in the Rebbe’s presence, we suddenly had place in our heart, and with an open heart gave up some of our own space to others who were suddenly not so “other”.

It may not always be easy, but it is doable. It is realistic. It’s been done before.

When we face challenging situations or people throughout the year, may we have the memory, wisdom, and strength to tap into the energies of Tishrei.

Especially in this year of Hakhel, may we remember who we are, why we’re here, and before whom we stand, thereby enabling us to hold hands, join forces, reach out and raise up, until we all together are united once again with our Rebbe, celebrating the ultimate Simchas Torah – the complete and true Geulah – together.

When the Chazzan Thought of Doing Teshuva

Many years ago, in a far away land, a young man stepped forward to lead the congregation in what the rabbi had called the special Yom Kippur Musaf service.

The rabbi had also referred to him as a cantor, although he really didn't think of himself as a cantor.

A Baal Tefillah, perhaps? He had a decent voice, could read Hebrew well, was able to carry a tune, knew the Nusach, and had looked over the Machzor a few times, even studying some of the prayers in English, so he would have some clue as to what he was saying. He wasn't sure, though, that these qualified him as being Baal - a master of - Tefilah.

Shliach Tzibur was more like it, he thought. He would be representing the congregation - in the driver's seat, so to speak, and they had also said that they would be giving him financial compensation for his work. So Shliach Tzibur he was, and he began to chant the cantor's introductory prayer to the Musaf service...

Hin'ni He'oni Mima'as (Here am I, deficient in meritorious deeds...  standing and pleading before Him on behalf of His people Israel who have sent me, though I am unworthy and unqualified for the task)... He wondered how many members of the congregation knew the meaning of the words hiding behind the moving melody they might be enjoying...

Oh my, he suddenly thought. Ve'na Al Tafshieim Bechatosai (I beseech You, do not hold them guilty on account of my sins)... If they only knew. If they saw beyond the externalities, and knew who he was under his Talis, beneath his Yarmulka and Tzitzis, behind his Peyos and beard, would the Tzibur even agree to have him be their Shliach?

He couldn't do this under false pretenses, on this holiest of days! What should he do?

For a fleeting moment, he considered turning around and telling them all who he thought he really was, sharing his darkest secrets, the skeletons in his closet (it would have been more dramatic than the rabbi's Yizkor sermon had been), and if they still wanted him do continue, well, then, the choice would be theirs, and he could honestly represent them.

But he quickly reconsidered. There was no way he would do that to himself. Besides, what if they decided that they didn't want him anymore? What would he do then? He'd have exposed himself and gotten nothing in return. They might not even pay his ticket home.

He racked his brain, and the only other option he could think of was to quietly, sincerely, do Teshuva right then and there. Then he would certainly be worthy, and they would be happy with him.

He didn't have much time to think. The congregation was waiting. But the thought had been planted. He would do Teshuva.

* * *

At the break between Musaf and Mincha, the rabbi asked the cantor if he was feeling okay. Earlier, he had seemed to be in pain. The cantor shared with the rabbi what he had been thinking before Musaf. 

The rabbi smiled, and spoke softly. I am sorry for the mental anguish you felt. The people enjoyed and were moved by your Davening, and are looking forward to more at Ne'ilah. They're happy you're here, and couldn't care less about your personal life. In any case, no matter what you told them, they wouldn't think any less of you, since they're as human as you, and each have their own Pekel... But it's nice to know that my Chazzan had a Hirhur Teshuva!

* * *

May we appreciate the special moments Hashem gives us, and focus on what we have to do, without regard for what others might be thinking. I wish you an easy fast, and a Chasimah Ugmar Chasimah Tova.

The Overlooked

There are a few anecdotes that come to mind as I read Rashi's words in the beginning of Parshas Eikev, about the importance of paying attention to "minor" Mitzvos that people often "trample with their feet"...

* * *

Late one night, Rabbi Yosef Wineberg brought a letter to the Rebbe on behalf of a Jew who needed urgent advice from the Rebbe. He stuck the letter into the crevice where the door to the Rebbe's room closes, hoping that the secretary who was there at the time would notice it as he left, and hand it to the Rebbe immediately. Alas, when the secretary came out of the room, the letter fell to the floor, and the Rebbe himself got up from his place nd retrieved it.

Rabbi Wineberg felt terribly about causing the Rebbe this bother. The next day, he wrote a note to the Rebbe to apologize. The Rebbe responded: this is what I do. I lift - especially that which others overlook.

(Click here to hear Rabbi Wineberg tell the story).

* * *

One Erev Shabbos, a friend of mine was riding the subway to his Mivtzoim route in Manhattan.

At one point, a panhandler entered the car.

Most subway riders mind their own business in any case, and are particularly trained to avoid eye contact with certain individuals, so this unfortunate fellow hoping for some compassion was basically ignored.

After a few moments, the silence was shattered by the beggar's painful cry, "Will someone please acknowledge my existence?!"

* * *

A newly hired teacher approached my paternal grandfather, Rabbi C.M.A. Hodakov, and asked what advice he could give him, a first time teacher.

My grandfather told him, "Hub lieb di kinder", show the children love.

He asked, "what if a particular child makes it difficult for me to love him?"

"Show him even more love", my grandfather said, "because, apparently, someone didn't show him enough love last year".

* * *

Of course, there's also Rabbi Moshe Kotlarsky's famous story of the "small" Jew from Curacao, and many more.

As we learn and live with Parshas Eikev, in the times of Ikvesa Dimeshicha, may we be inspired to be what we can to those who can benefit from our attention.

Written on the 15th of Menachem Av, the Yohrtzeit of my maternal grandfather, Rabbi Yaakov Yehuda ("JJ") Hecht, of blessed memory, who noticed and looked out for those who were otherwise neglected and overlooked.

“What Didn’t the Rebbetzin Have in Her House?”

As heard at a Farbrengen this past Shabbos, in connection with 22 Shevat 5779

A number of years ago, at a Farbrengen in the Yeshiva in Morristown, someone was telling stories about the Rebbetzin. He had heard from someone who worked in the Rebbe’s house that there were “two things he never saw there; coffee, and Cholent”.

In fact, he had once asked the Rebbetzin, Why is there was no Cholent in the house? Isn’t it customary to have hot food on Shabbos day?

The Rebbetzin responded, “און וואס איז א גלאז טיי?” (Loosely translated, Cholent was not necessary to fulfill this need. It could be taken care of with a glass of tea).

***

Upon hearing this anecdote, one of the Bochrim present quietly remarked to his friend that there were certainly other foods, as well, that were not a regular staple in the Rebbe’s home.

What made this individual notice the coffee and Cholent? Might it be that these were two things that this fellow himself enjoyed, and therefore noticed when they weren’t there?

Is it not only natural for all of us to view things in life through the prism of our own personal experiences, and of our own wants?

***

At Mattan Torah, Hashem “identified Himself” as the One Who took the Jewish people out of the land of Egypt. One of Rashi’s explanations is that since Hashem had revealed Himself at the sea as a warrior, and here He revealed Himself as merciful, Hashem warned them not to think, Chas Veshalom, that there are  two dominions, rather, “I am the same One Who took you out of Egypt”.

In this context, we might say that what we perceive and experience in any given situation is naturally influenced by previous experiences. Having seen a specific revelation at the sea, they have to be warned that this new revelation is still the same Hashem.

(In contemporary terms, we might infer a message: Don’t limit your experience by what you have already seen and heard. Open yourself to more…)

***

As wife of the Rebbe, the Rebbetzin live a very private life. Children today know more about the Rebbetzin than most adults knew at the time of her passing, as even now – more than 30 years later – there are stories being told publicly for the first time, shared by individuals who were fortunate to have personal encounters with her.

The Rebbetzin’s passing on 22 Shevat 5748 was, for many, a difficult event to process. How do you mourn the loss of someone you didn’t know?

Yet, as Chassidim, the pain was palpable, as we saw the Rebbe’s pain.

At that time, Rabbi Dovid Chanzin (pictured above), the senior Lubavitcher Rov in Eretz Yisroel, spoke at a Chassidishe Farbrengen in 770 about the obvious irreplaceable role that the Rebbetzin played in the Rebbe’s life.

Was there anything that the Rebbetzin gave to the Rebbe that we could possibly give to the Rebbe, now that the Rebbetzin had passed away?

Yes, he said, there was one thing that the Rebbetzin gave to the Rebbe that we, as Chassidim could try to give as well; loyalty, dedication, devotion. In one word – Bittul...

***

As we observe another Yahrtzeit of the Rebbetzin, we should take these words to heart, and renew our Hiskashrus in the truest sense.

We should not limit our diet to coffee and Cholent.

We should not restrict our perception of Hashem to seeing Him as, exclusively, a warrior, or merciful.

We should be humble enough to put our own “selves” aside, wise enough to be open to learn and internalize new and deeper dimensions in Torah and Avodas Hashem, and we should have the strength to act accordingly.

Lechayim Velivracha!

With Whom Would You Drink Coffee in the Rain?

There are two stories that taught me to respect the Sukkah. A third story helps me appreciate it.

The first story:

Yosef Mordechai was a simple Jew, who helped in the house of the Rebbe Maharash (4th Chabad Rebbe). He once entered the Sukkah, still visibly angry from something that happened in the kitchen. The Rebbe Maharash told him, “… you must show respect for the S’chach. The S’chach does not appreciate anger”!

The second story:

Once, in Rostov, the Rebbe Rashab (5th Chabad Rebbe) contributed to a Sukkos gathering that a local non-Chabad  group was organizing.

When he later heard that they had read poems and rhymes, such as “S’chach, Ich Lach!” (S’chah, I am laughing), the Rebbe Rashab commented, “If they only knew how the S’chach was laughing at them, they would not be laughing at all!”….

The third story:

A Chabad Chosid was making himself a coffee during Chol Hamoed Sukkos. Noticing the weather outside, and knowing that Chabad custom is to always eat or drink anything only in the Sukkah, someone commented, “I feel bad for you. You have to go out to the Sukkah in the rain, just to have a drink”.

He responded, “When else do I get to have a coffee with the  Ushpizin (spiritual guests that join us in the Sukkah)”?...

* * *

There is no joy as that of clarity. As we celebrate Zman Simchoseinu, the Time of our Rejoicing, may we appreciate the Yom Tov and its Mitzvos for the opportunities they give us.

There are those who say that on each Yom Tov we "give up" something (Chometz on Pesach, sleep on Shavuos, comforts of home on Sukkos).

In truth, on each Yom Tov we "get to" do something!

We get to eat Matzo (referred to in Jewish mysticism as "food of faith" and "food of healing") for a week, we get to stay awake all night and learn, and we get spend time with the Ushpizin!

May G-d grant us ideal weather throughout Sukkos, and even if the weather isn't perfect, may we cherish the opportunity to be enveloped by Hashem's embrace.

Choices

5th in a series of parenting inspiration from the weekly Torah portion, by Yosef Yitzchok Hodakov

This week's Torah portion, Re'ei, opens with Moses' words: See, I set before you today a blessing and a curse. The blessing is associated with heeding the commandments of G-d, and the opposite, well, is the opposite.

In raising children, it is imperative that - from the earliest age - they learn that there is a right and wrong, good and evil. (My three year old sometimes doesn't understand that concept. "But I WAAAAAAAANT", he says).

Now, what is good for one person, may be bad for someone else. You wouldn't serve steak to a week-old baby, or baby formula to a teenager. You wouldn't force someone with 20/20 vision to wear strong glasses when driving, or admit yourself to surgery if you didn't need it.

Yet, in every instance, there is a right and wrong. Knowing there there is a choice is the first step to being able to make the right one.

Shabbat Shalom.

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WHEN ONE OF THE “STATUES” CAME ALIVE!

A summer memory, with a lesson for young, and (another lesson for) old

By Yosef Yitzchok Hodakov

There was one weekend every summer during which camp took on a most festive atmosphere. Honoring the Yohrtzeit of the Rebbe’s father, esteemed pulpit rabbis and venerated scholars would descend upon our little world at Camp Gan Israel in Parksville, NY, for “Yarchei Kallah”, sometime near the 20^th of Av.

As the years passed, I came to understand that they had come together to learn and share and debate and plan and discuss matters of Torah and issues of great concern to the Jewish world. They sometimes convened in closed room sessions, and all we were allowed to do was stand at a distance and watch the animated discussions through the window.

However, as a younger child, I didn’t fully appreciate the moment. We kids were simply excited to see all the preparations, we were happy to know that the indoor pool would most certainly be heated, and we were eager to sneak a peek in the upper floors of “the Beth”, a building with hotel rooms reserved for special occasions such as this, overlooking the scenic Catskill mountains…

* * *

Now, while Lunchtime on Friday afternoons was at the same time as every other weekday, Friday night Shabbos dinner would not begin until much later than usual, after a lengthy and lively Kabolas Shabbos. And so, hungry and tired, I sat there and looked to the front of the Shul…

The visiting rabbis sat there on a dais facing us, their faces serious and somber, looking like statues chiseled out of stone. Maybe they too were hungry and tired.

And after Davening, we respectfully filed by these honored sages, bunk by bunk, to extend and receive Shabbos greetings. Most of them held their hands stretched across the table somewhat limply, quietly allowing us to touch, hold, or shake their hands, or fingertips, as we wished.

Although I realize now that some of them could not have been much older than I am now, to me they seemed ancient at that time, and inhabiting another, parallel universe.

* * *

At some point, we were told that we would have the good fortune of being addressed by one of the rabbis. I can’t say that I was enthused. But then, on Shabbos morning, after Krias Hatorah, one of the Rabbis was introduced to us, and he SPOKE! Not only did he speak, he spoke in perfect ENGLISH. And, he was ANIMATED! He walked up and down the aisle and captivated us with his talk.

I do not remember what it was that the late Rabbi Hershel Fogelman o.b.m. – the Rebbe’s longtime Shliach in Worcester, Massachusets – told us that Shabbos morning, but all these years later I am still moved by his energy, the passion with which he spoke, and how he related to us, kids. He was ALIVE!

* * *

I am sharing this anecdote with you because I believe that it carries a dual lesson.

Those who might feel like they have no one to look up to, no one older and wiser who can relate to them, should know that it simply isn’t true. While all them old folks might seem like stone statues, find the right one, and you will discover that they are alive, energized, and inspired enough to inspire you as well.

And those who might feel like they themselves are old and dry like stone, and that they have nothing to say to the younger generation, should know that the youth are open and thirsty to listen and absorb and be inspired if you only come alive and give of yourself.