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.