Rabbi YY Jacobson

• October 17, 2011
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• 19 Tishrei 5772
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  Simchas Torah 5772 Insights

  Rabbi YY Jacobson

  • October 17, 2011

  Index to Insights:

  1.      “Fiery Law:” Judaism as a Synthesis Between Structure and Beyond

  2.       The Arms Below the Universe: Comforting Broken Souls

  3.      How the Rebbe Comforted the Hotel Owner and How that Can Comfort All of Us

  4.      The “Argument” between the great Chassidic master and the Rebbe why we dance.

  5.      Why and How We Become on Simchas Torah “Feet” of the Torah.

  6.      Dancing With Moses’ Death?!

  7.      Are You Not-Dead, or Are You Alive?

  8.      Don’t Stop Asking Questions

  9.      Toras Emes: On the Definition of Truth

  10.  The Book Which Became a Bride

  11.  Gilad Shalit: The Outpouring of Love & the Moral Dilemmas

   

   

  1.      Fiery Law

  In the opening of the portion of Vezos Habracah—the final portion of the Torah read on Simchas Torah—Moses describes the giving of the Torah:[1]

  He [Moses] said: "The Lord came from Sinai and shone forth from Seir to them; He appeared from Mount Paran and came with some of the holy myriads; from His right hand was a fiery Law for them.”

  Here is how Moses, in his final moments on earth, describes the essence of Torah: “Fiery law,” or in the original Hebrew, “Eish das.”

  This is an extraordinary and profound description. “Fire” and “law” are opposites. Law is all about structure, order and definitive behavior defined by the law. That indeed is the function of law: to uphold an order in a society, to create certain boundaries and red lines which no one may cross. Fire, in contrast, is the opposite of structure. It undermines, destroys and disintegrates any structure. It is never confined to one place, always swaying, moving, blazing, dancing, consuming something; it breaks down anything that enters into its realm. That is why fire represents unrestrained passion, zealotry, energy, which aspires to break out of the confined mode and strive for more, as a physical flame which is never content and seeks to consume more.

  This is the heart of Judaism: it is both “aish” and “das,” it is a “fiery law.” On the one hand, Judaism demands of us structure and order. Every mitzvah and ritual has its time, place, and specific rules. Judaism demands consistency and stability, day in day out. It keeps us synchronized with the rhythm of time and the passage of seasons. Halacha, Jewish law, is all about specific structure in minute details and specifications. Yet together with that, Torah is “fire.” It challenges us to never stop growing, to open ourselves to the mystery and infinity of life, to transcend our habits and conventions, to re-invent ourselves, and to never stop burning.

  In the Library

  An anecdote:

  "What time does the library open?" the man on the phone asked.

  "Nine A.M." came the reply. "And what's the idea of calling me at home in the middle of the night to ask a question like that?"

  "Not until nine A.M.?" the man asked in a disappointed voice.

  "No, not till nine A.M.!" the librarian said. "Why do you want to get in before nine A.M.?"

  "Who said I wanted to get in?" the man sighed sadly. "I want to get out."

  The Old and the Young

  The Torah is not only about law and structure, but also about fire, teaching us never to get stuck in our “mental library,” but to continue to explore, grow and climb the mountains of infinity.

  This is how Torah has the power to attract both the young and the old. Usually the old folks are more comfortable with “law,” believing in consistency, order and stability. While the young are more comfortable with “fire,” with passion, idealism, breaking the mold and staying up all night.

  Systems that are based either on “law” (America of the 1950’s) or on “fire” (America of the 60’s), alienate one of the two demographics. Torah, in contrast, is “fiery law,” it is both law and fire, hence its power to be relevant and to capture the souls of both the old and the young.

  The Endless “Fiery” Quest

  A story:

  It was Simchat Torah, and the disciples of Rabbi Mendel of Horodok, many of whom had journeyed for weeks to spend the joyous festival with their Rebbe, were awaiting his entrance to the synagogue for the recital of the Atah Hor’eisa verses and the hakafot procession. Yet the Rebbe did not appear. Hours passed, and still Rabbi Mendel was secluded in his room.

  Finally, they approached Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, who had studied with Rabbi Mendel in Mezeritch under the tutelage of the Great Maggid.[2] Perhaps Rabbi Schneur Zalman, who was revered and loved by Rabbi Mendel, would attempt what no other chassid would dare: enter the Rebbe’s room and ask him to join his anxiously awaiting followers.

  When Rabbi Schneur Zalman entered Rabbi Mendel’s study, he found the chassidic master deeply engrossed in his thoughts. “The chassidim await you,” said Rabbi Schneur Zalman. “Why don’t you join them for the hakafot?”

  “There are a hundred meanings to the verse Atah Hor’eisa,” cried Rabbi Mendel, “And I do not yet fully understand them all.[3] I cannot possibly come out to recite the verse without a proper comprehension of its significance!”

  “Rebbe!” said Rabbi Schneur Zalman. “When you will reach a full comprehension of the hundred meanings of Atah Hor’eisa, you will discover another hundred meanings you have yet to comprehend...”

  “You are right,” said Rabbi Mendel, rising from his seat. “Come, let us go to hakafot.”

  Because Torah is not only law; it is also “fire.” It can never be fully grasped and you can never be content with it.

  2.      The “Arms” Below the Universe

  There is a strange verse in the final portion of the Torah, read on Simchas Torah:[4]

  מְעֹנָה אֱלֹקי קֶדֶם וּמִתַּחַת זְרֹעֹת עוֹלָם וַיְגָרֶשׁ מִפָּנֶיךָ אוֹיֵב וַיֹּאמֶר הַשְׁמֵד.

  “[The Heavens] Are the abode for the G-d Who precedes all, and below the world are arms. He expelled the enemy from before you, and said, 'Destroy!'”

  What is the meaning of this enigmatic statement that “below the world there are arms”?[5]

  Rabbi Nachman of Breslov offered the following moving and comforting interpretation.

  If we had to categorize all of humanity into two groups we could say that there are the people who are comfortable in the world; and there are people who find no place for themselves in our universe. There are those who just have their two feet etched confidentially in the ground. They know who they are and they know what they want, or even if not, they are not bothered by these questions.

  But there are others who struggle with deep psychological, emotional, and spiritual dilemmas; who experience deep anxiety, pain and grief; who suffer from addiction  and other internal maladies. All these people, somehow never feel fully present in our world; they never feel grounded and stationed solidly on the earth. Psychologically speaking they feel like they are falling off the ball of the planet.

  It is to these people who Moses speaks and says: “Metachas zeroos olam,” below the world there are arms. When you feel like you are “falling off” the planet, that you have no place in our world, that you don’t belong here, you should know that below the world there are arms that will embrace you when you “fall off.” These are G-d’s “arms” in whom you can fall right into and let out all your pain and anxiety.

  But here is the catch: Only those who “fall off” the face of the world can experience this embrace. As long as you feel secure in your own being, as long as you feel confident in your own ego, you can’t feel the transcendent embrace of    G-d. Only when you have nothing else to hold on to, can you experience those loving arms which are always present below the world for those who fall off.

  Off the Cliff

  An anecdote:

  A climber fell off a cliff, and as he tumbled down, he caught hold of a small branch.

  "HELP! IS THERE ANYBODY UP THERE?" he shouted.

  A majestic voice boomed through the gorge: "I will help you, my son, but first you must have faith in me."

  "Yes, yes, I trust you!" cried the man.

  "Let go of the branch," boomed the voice.

  There was a long pause, and the man shouted up again, "IS THERE ANYONE ELSE UP THERE I COULD TALK TO?"

  The Football Game

  Rabbi Abraham Twerski tells the story of a recovering addict who explained why she had succeeded in her recovery program. She explained that she is a devout football fan who never misses watching her team play. She is either there or finds some way to see it. One weekend she had to be away, so she asked her friend to tape the game for her. Upon returning, the friend handed her the tape and said, "By the way, your team won."

  Later that day, she watched the game in horror as she saw her team behind by twenty points at halftime. Under all circumstances, at this point, she would normally have been a nervous wreck, looking for different ways to assuage her nerves. This time, however, she was perfectly calm, because she knew the outcome of the game; her team had won.

  This is the story of life: Knowing that we have the Divine support to help us through our journeys, that knowledge itself can give us the serenity and joy we need in order to navigate life.

  3.      A Shaky Hotel

  The following story was told by Rabbi Zalman Gurari to my late father, Reb Gershon Jacobson:

  One year, around 1933, Lubavitch rented a hotel in Warsaw for the sizth Lubavitcher Rebbe to spend there the last days of Sukkos with his hundreds of disciples and followers, in prayer, study and celebration.

  It was Simchas Torah during the hakafos. And as is the tradition in Chabad, the dancing was fierce. Hundreds of Chassidim were dancing with all their might, their soul, their heart, as their feet were jumping up and down in the heavenly symphony of Simchas Torah with the Rebbe.

  The owner of the hotel was a Rodomsker Chassid, a follower of the Chassidic dynasty of Rodomsk (which was almost completely wiped out in the Holocaust.) He ran over to the Lubavitcher Rebbe and exclaimed: I know the structure of this hotel, and it is not capable of holding up all this pressure, all this jumping and dancing. I am frightened that the building will cave in on us and the results can be catastrophic. You must tell the Chasidim to stop dancing at once!

  The Rebbe, Rabi Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson, smiled and said to him:

  The Torah states “Metachas zeroos olam,” below the world there are arms. The Kabbalah explains this as referring to “zeroos d’Adam Kadmon,” the Divine arms which hold up the entire universe and the entire planet. Our planet, the earth, is suspended in mid-space. Who holds it up? It is G-d’s “arms.”

  So, my dear Jew, the same “arms” holding up the entire world, will hold up this hotel too!...

  The Chassidim continues to dance, jump and celebrate, till the wee hours of the morning. The hotel remained intact. But the greatest miracle, said Reb Zalman, was that this non Chabad Chassid returned to his previous position calm and serene, with full trust in the words of the Rebbe.

  My dear friends, I am not suggesting that you go dance tonight in a building that has weak foundations. What I am suggesting is: Many of us have lots of pain and challenges in our lives. We often feel like we are “falling off” the planet, with no real light at the end of the tunnel. Tonight, let yourself land in G-d’a arms wrapped around the universe. Allow G-d to hug you.

  As you hold the Torah scroll, G-d’s word, and thus hug G-d, remember that the Torah is also hugging you. Tonight open up your heart to G-d’s embrace.

  And remember this too: Worry is interest paid in advance for a debt you may never owe.

  4.      Why Is the Torah Sealed?

  On Simchat Torah we rejoice with the Torah. We celebrate the joy of being a Jew—the joy of a life permeated with the divine wisdom and will communicated to us at Mount Sinai.

  But where is the Torah? Where is the all-embracing wisdom of the Five Books of Moses, the inspiration of the Prophets, the music of the Psalms? Where is the brilliance of the Talmud, the guidance of the Shulchan Aruch, the mystique of the Kabbalistic writings? Where are the laws, the ethics and the philosophy that have molded our lives and served as a beacon of light to all of humanity for 33 centuries?

  It’s all rolled up. It’s all rolled up in a scroll of parchment, girdled with a sash, clothed in an embroidered mantle. This is the Torah we grasp in our arms as we dance away the night and day of Simchas Torah in synagogues across the globe.

  Is this how we should celebrate our relationship with the Torah? Surely the People of the Book could have devised a more appropriate way to rejoice with the essence of all wisdom! Would not the festival be more appropriately observed by immersing oneself in a page of Talmud or a work of Torah philosophy?

  Are we not celebrating the Torah, a precious piece of literature, the all-time, international bestseller? If an author writes a highly successful book how would he choose to celebrate it? He will probably make a book reading, in which he will personally read selected highlights and show the depth and brilliance of his work.  So why are we dancing with a closed and sealed Torah?

  The Second Time Around

  The answer is that there are two annual festivals which celebrate our receiving of the Torah: Shavuos and Simchas Torah.

  Shavuos is the day on which the entire Jewish nation experienced the divine revelation at Mount Sinai, where G-d communicated the Torah to us and summoned Moses to the top of the mountain to receive the Two Tablets of the Covenant. These Tablets, however, were broken as a result the violation of their contents by the Jewish people with the sin of the Golden Calf. It is the Second Tablets, granted us on Yom Kippur, over which we rejoice on Simchas Torah.

  The First Tablets of Shavuos represent the “conventional” aspect of Torah—Torah as the study of G-d’s wisdom and the fulfillment of His will. On this level, a person’s relationship with the Torah is determined by his or her individual talents and behavior: the more one studies, the more one knows; the greater one’s mind, the deeper one’s comprehension; and if one acts contrary to the Torah’s commandments, one is no longer worthy of it—worshipping an idol of gold leads to a shattered Tablets and covenant.

  But there is also a deeper dimension to Torah, which transcends the externalities of conduct and understanding. This is the essence of Torah: The Torah as a book which contains G-d’s essence, His living presence, transcending all finite intellect and wisdom. This dimension of Torah is intrinsically connected to every Jew, due to the quintessential bond between G-d and the Jew. No sin or transgression can weaken this bond; on the contrary, it was the breaking of the First Tablets that uncovered its power and invincibility. This is the Torah of the Second Tablets that was given to the Jews on Yom Kippur. This is the Torah we celebrate on Simchas Torah.

  On Shavuos we spend the entire night studying. On Shavuos, most synagogues host all night classes to explore, dissect and analyze the depth of Torah wisdom.

  But on Simchas Torah we celebrate our bond with the quintessence of Torah, with G-d’s essence embedded in Torah, transcending intellect. So the Torah remains scrolled and covered—we are grasping it, it’s very essence, rather than its words and precepts.

  We dance with the Torah rather than study it, because we are relating to that dimension of Torah which embraces each and every Jew equally, regardless of knowledge and spiritual station. In dancing, we all relate equally to the Torah: the sweat of the scholar is no more profound than that of his illiterate brother, and the feet of the saint move no more piously than those of the boor.[6]

  My Brother’s Party

  And here I want to share with you a magnificent argument between two great Chasidic masters—Rabbi Naftali of Ropshitz, and the Lubavitcher Rebbe about why we dance on Simchas Torah.

  The great Chassidic master Rabbi Naftali of Ropshitz once told of a man he met who taught him what he considered an amazing lesson about joy. On Simchas Torah one year, he saw a man who looked like he was thoroughly enjoying the day's celebration. His mouth did not stop singing and his legs would not stop dancing. He was totally immersed in the joy of the celebration of completing the Torah. What Reb Naftali  thought was unusual was that this individual was a simple porter, who knew little of Torah and its study. Reb Naftali called him over and asked him how come he was celebrating with such fervor. Did he learn so much this year that his celebration should be so enthusiastic?

  The porter's answer was what impressed Reb Naftali. He said: "Rebbe, if my brother is making a wedding, marrying off his daughter, should I not be happy, because it is not my daughter? Of course I will celebrate with all my heart, for it is my brother’s Simcha!

  “I may have not studied the Torah this year,” the Jew continued, “but my brothers are celebrating. My brothers have studied Torah. Should I not be happy?”

  Not a Brother

  Now, one year on the night of Simchas Torah, in 1961, the Lubavitcher Rebbe shared this story (he related it without names as an encounter between a Rabbi and an ignorant, illiterate Jew, an “am haaretz.” But then the Rebbe added:

  The truth is that this Jew was mistaken. Because he was ignorant, he made a mistake about the reason for his dancing. The truth is that he was not dancing at his brother’s child’s wedding; he was dancing at his own child’s wedding. Because the connection between a Jew and Torah is completely not dependent on how much a Jew studies Torah. There is a deeper connection which is intrinsic and essential: Every single Jew is one with the Torah. Torah is the Divine manifestation in our world, and there is an essential bond between every Jew and G-d. Even a Jewish child who is one day old “owns” the entire Torah.

  An Inheritance

  This is the meaning of the verse we read on Simchas Torah:

  תורה צוה לנו משה מורשה קהלת יעקב

  “The Torah was commanded to us by Moses; it was given as an inheritance, ‘morasah,’ to the community of Jacob.”

  The focus is on the word “inheritance.” If an infant loses, heaven forbid, his parents, legally he still inherits their entire estate. He may not appreciate the inheritance till he is much older, but legally that does not change the fact that the inheritance belongs to him completely. Nobody has a right to touch even a penny of it.

  This is what Moses is telling his people: The Torah is the “inheritance” of every Jew. Some Jews may be “infants,” in the sense that they may not fully appreciate this inheritance, nor take full advantage of it. But it does not change the fact: It is theirs. The Torah belongs to every single Jew. When we dance with the Torah we are dancing with our very own essence.

  Engraved Letters  

  In the late 1940’s, two rabbis were sent by the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson, to visit Jewish people across the metro Chicago area.

  On their return they gave the Rebbe a report of their many visits and shared an incident where they were challenged by one of their hosts, for their reason of coming to visit. When they had told him that they weren’t coming to collect money he asked “then what for?”

  “Do you know what a Sofer is?” the rabbi asked the middle aged traditional but secular Chicago businessman. “Of course, the person who writes Torah’s,” he answered.

  “So,” the rabbi explained “a Torah that is missing even one letter is incomplete and must be repaired. And to ensure that all of the letters are complete, there were Sofers who would travel around from village to village and check the Torahs to repair and protect every last letter of the Torah.

  “The Jewish People are compared to a Torah and when even one letter is missing, when even one soul is lost from the community, the entire nation is fractured. We were sent by the Rebbe to travel around and visit our fellow people, and repair each “letter” and their connection to the Torah.”

  On return to New York they shared the exchange with the Rebbe who seemed somewhat dissatisfied with the analogy.

  “Whereas the Parchment and Ink of Torah are two distinct and possibly separated entities” the Rebbe explained, “the relationship of a Jew and Torah is more accurately comparable to the words engraved on the Tablets. There the stone and the words are one and the same.

  The only obstacle is if and when the engraved letter becomes filled with dust. And that is your job to go around and “brush the dust” concealing the beauty of every soul, so that then they can shine once again.”

  5.      I Am Nothing

  A classic story circulates in Jewish humor anthologies.

  Before the start of the Ne'eilah service, the holiest and final supplication of Yom Kippur, the rabbi rose from his seat and bolted toward the Holy Ark. He spread his hands toward heaven and cried out, "Ribbono Shel Olam, Master of the Universe, I am a total nothing before you! Please inscribe me in the book of life!"

  All of a sudden the chazzan (cantor) ran toward the Aron and joined the rabbi! "G-d Almighty," he shouted, "please forgive me, too, for I am truly a nothing before you!" There is an awed silence amongst the congregants.

  The shammas (sexton) then followed suit. He, too, ran up toward the ark and in tearful supplication pronounced, I too am a nothing!"

  Mouths around the congregation dropped open. The President of the synagogue's men's club, Ed Goldstein, a large man, was also caught up in the fervor of the moment. Suddenly, he, too, bolted from his seat in the back, and lumbered toward the front of the shul. With great eagerness he prostrated himself in front of the Ark and cried out at the top of his lungs. "Forgive me Oh Lord he shouts, for I too am a nothing!”

  Suddenly a shout from the back of the synagogue was directed toward Goldstein's hulk of a figure. It shouted with incredulity: "Harrumph! Look who thinks he's a nothing! This moron Goldstein."

  Getting It Right

  An anecdote:

  A resident in a posh hotel breakfast room called over the head waiter one morning and read from the menu. "I'd like one under-cooked egg so that it's runny, and one over-cooked egg so that it's tough and hard to eat. I'd also like grilled bacon which is a bit on the cold side, burnt toast, butter straight from the freezer so that it's impossible to spread, and a pot of very weak, lukewarm coffee."

  "That's a complicated order sir," said the bewildered waiter. "It might be quite difficult."

  The guest replied sarcastically, "It can't be that difficult because that's exactly what you brought me yesterday!"

  The Feet of Torah

  One of the most moving and profound insights on the essence of Simchas Torah and our dancing for hours and hours holding the Torah scrolls, was presented by Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak of Lubavitch. This is what he said:

  The Torah wants to circle the bimah, and since it cannot do this, because the Torah has no feet, a Jew for one day becomes its “feet,” transporting the Torah around the reading table, just as feet transport the head.

  It is a beautiful metaphor. When you are holding the Torah imagine that you and the Torah are one single organism. You are not holding something separate from you; rather the Torah is like your head and your body is its feet.

  But what does this really mean? And why is it that Simchas Torah we suddenly become “feet” for the Torah?

   

  His son in law, the seventh Lubavitcher Rebbe, explained this at a Simchas Torah gathering, 1961:

  The foot is utterly committed to the brain; a person’s thought-impulse to move his foot is instantly obeyed. Never does it happen in the life of a healthy person that the brain says, “move the leg,” and the leg says: No. A foot knows that its entire existence is merely an extension of the brain. It does not have an identity outside of it being a continuum of the brain.

  Similarly, after Roah Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkos, every Jew reaches a state of consciousness of becoming “feet for Torah.” The dancing of Simchas Torah expresses our complete commitment to the Torah’s blueprint for life, when we recognize that our entire existence in relation to Torah is like feet to the brain. On Simchas Torah we all declare: I am nothing; I am merely an extension of Torah—I am the limbs and organs through which G-d’s will and purpose is materialized. I put my false ego on the side and become “feet” for G-d’s Torah.

  And when you define your life this way, then you can really begin dancing. Because you don’t carry any longer the heavy burden of your ego.

  The Exam

  This reminds me of the anecdote:

  Bob had finally made it to the last round of the $64,000 Question.

  The night before the big question, he told the Emcee that he desired a question on American History.

  The big night had arrived. Bob made his way on stage in front of the studio and TV audience. He had become the talk of the week. He was the best guest this show had ever seen. The Emcee stepped up to the mike.

  "Bob, you have chosen American History as your final question. You know that if you correctly answer this question, you will walk away $64,000 dollars richer. Are you ready?"

  Bob nodded with a cocky confidence - the crowd went nuts. He hadn't missed a question all week.

  "Bob, your question on American History is a two-part question. As you know, you may answer either part first. As a rule, the second half of the question is always easier. Which part would you like to take a stab at first?"

  Bob was now becoming more noticeably nervous. He couldn't believe it, but he was drawing a blank. American History was his easiest subject, but he played it safe.

  "I'll try the second part first."

  The Emcee nodded approvingly. "Here we go Bob. I will ask you the second half first, then the first half."

  The audience silenced with gross anticipation...

  "Bob, here is your question:

  “And in what year did it happen?"

  6.      “Moses My Servant has Died”

  This question has always bothered me:

  The reading of Simchas Torah consists of the final chapter of the Torah, which tells the story of Moses’ passing. Then we read the haftorah, the first chapter of Joshua, which begins with these words: “It was after the death of Moses, G-d’s servant.”

  Does it make sense that on the happiest day of the Jewish calendar we read about one of the saddest and most painful moments in Jewish history—the death of our greatest leader and prophet, Moses? With the death of Moses the Jewish people lost their unparalleled leader and teacher, the faithful shepherd who liberated them from slavery, molded them into a people and gave them the Torah!

  Moreover, in the wilderness the clouds of glory accompanied them, they ate the manna, and they drank from the well of Miriam, all in the merit of Moses; however, now they were ready to leave the wilderness and enter the land of Canaan, where they were to begin a life of plowing and sowing, of politics and wars, of a regular life confined to the laws of nature. Could we not choose a happier theme for Simchas Torah?

  Courage!

  The Lubavitcher Rebbe addressed this question on the Night of Simchas Torah of the year 5714 (1954):

  The answer to this question can be found in the opening of the haftorah: “It was after the death of Moses, G-d’s servant, and G-d said to Joshua the son of Nun, the servant of Moses:  “Moses my servant has died, now rise up and cross the Jordan River… be strong and very courageous (chazak veematz), because you will bequeath the Land to the nation… Be strong and very courageous to observe and follow the whole Torah that I commanded Moses my servan…”

  This exactly is the message of Simchas Torah. It is easy to be joyous, inspired, motivated and focused when Moses is alive in the most revealed way, leading the nation with unwavering clarity and decisive direction. But then there comes a time in history when Moses cannot be seen any longer, when there are more questions than answers, when fear, trepidation and ambivalence threaten to take over our people.

  Comes Simchas Torah and tells us: Chazak veemeatz! Be strong and courageous! Moses may have passed on physically, but his presence, his inspiration, his Torah lives on for eternity. The same G-d who was there with Moses is here with us, even if it is in a more concealed fashion.

  And when we experience this realization, we start dancing!

  7.      Are You Not-Dead Or Are You Alive?

  In the special prayers for rain recited on Shemini Atzeres, we entreat G-d:

  לְחַיים ולא לַמָוֶת.

   “For life and not for death.”

  Asked Rabbi Levi Yitzchak Schneersohn, father of the Lubavitcher Rebbe:

  The Shulchan Aruch states that one should be careful to say “lechayim,” לְחַיים, and not “lachayim,” לַחַיים, which could sound like “not alive” (“lo chayim,” (לא-חיים . If so, why do we say “lamavet,” לַמָוֶת לא-מות)), which implies that we seek life and not “not-death”? A double negative is a positive. So when we say, we are asking “for life and not for not-death,” it implies that we are asking, heaven forbid, for death!

  Rabbi Levi Yitzchak presented the following beautiful answer:

  This exactly is our prayer: “For life and not for not-death.” We are praying that we should live a real and full; our life should not only consist of the fact that we are not dead.”

  Sometimes people are alive merely in the sense that they are not dead. But are they truly alive? Are they driven by a real purpose, a mission, a drive? Are they living their life to the fullest, embracing every moment and maximizing its potentials? Are they sucking the morrow out of life or are they just surviving?

  This is our prayer on Shmini Atzeres. “For life and not for not-death.” I don’t only want to be non-dead; I want to be ALIVE!

  8.      The Chair

  An eccentric philosophy professor gave a one question final exam, after a semester dealing with a broad array of topics. The class was already seated and ready to go when the professor picked up his chair, plopped it on his desk and wrote on the board: "Using everything we have learned this semester, prove that this chair does not exist."

  Fingers flew, erasers erased, notebooks were filled in furious fashion. Some students wrote over 30 pages in one hour attempting to refute the existence of the chair. One member of the class however, was up and finished in less than a minute.

  Weeks later when the grades were posted, the rest of the group wondered how he could have gotten an A when he had barely written anything at all. His answer consisted of two words: "What chair?"

  The Question

  Isidore Rabi, winner of a Nobel Prize for physics, was once asked why he became a scientist. He replied: "My mother made me a scientist without ever knowing it. Every other child would come back from school and be asked, 'What did you learn today?' But my mother used to say, 'Izzy, did you ask a good question today?' That made the difference. Asking good questions made me into a scientist."

  Tonight we celebrate the Torah, the teachings of Judaism. Judaism is a religion of questions. The greatest prophets asked questions of God. The Book of Job, the most searching of all explorations of human suffering, is a book of questions asked by man, to which God replies with a string of questions of His own.

  The earliest sermons usually began with a question asked of the rabbi by a member of the congregation. Most famously, the Passover Seder begins with four questions asked by the youngest child.

  Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski tells of how, when he was young, his instructor would relish challenges to his arguments. In his broken English he would say: "You right! You a hundred prozent right! Now I show you where you wrong."

  Religious faith has suffered hugely in the modern world by being cast as naive, blind, unquestioning.

  You know the anecdote about a man who once said:

  When I was young I used to pray for a bicycle.

  Then I realized that G-d doesn't work that way.

  So I stole a bicycle and prayed for forgiveness.

  It is a mistake when we associate faith with ignorance and naiveté. It runs contrary to Judaism which embraces questions and believes that the mind is the most precious gift G-d has given us. What is the asking of a question if not itself a profound expression of faith in the intelligibility of the universe and the meaningfulness of human life? To ask is to believe that somewhere there is an answer.

  Faith is not opposed to doubt. What it is opposed to is the shallow certainty that what we understand is all there is.

  9.      A Tale of Three Doctors

  These 3 psychiatrists meet at a bar one night after work. After a drink or two they begin unwinding from a long, hard day at the office dealing with people’s problems and all the social ills of society. 

  So one Doctor suggests they all open up and be absolutely honest with each other. “Let’s share among ourselves our own problems, troubles and demons. After all, we are alone, on our own with no patients around. Everything will be said in total confidence.”

  So the first one opens up and says “Well, if we are being absolutely honest with each other, I must admit that I’ve been inflating my patients’ accounts. They don’t know the difference and the medical insurance pays me.”

  And the second psychiatrist says, “Well, if honesty and frankness are the order of the day, I confess that I have taken advantage of some of my more dependent female patients when they are lying there, vulnerable, on the couch.”

  Whereupon the third Shrink says, “Well, gentlemen, you’re not going to be happy to hear this, but as we are all being completely honest and baring our souls, I must share with you my demon:

  “I simply cannot keep a secret!”

  Toras Emes

  Torah—which we celebrate today—is often defined in our literature as “Toras emes,” the Torah of Truth. In fact these are the words of the blessing we recite after every time we are called up to the Torah: “Thank you G-d…Who has given us a Torah of Truth.”

  This does not only mean that the Torah is not false; its stories, its claims, its laws, its messages are true. It represents something much deeper about our Torah.

  The word for truth in Hebrew is Emet. The word for falsehood is Sheker. Both words are made up of three Hebrew letters. The difference is that the three letters of Emet are the first, middle and last letters of the alphabet (aleph, mem, tav), while the letters that make up Sheker (shin, kuf, reish) are consecutive letters, bunched together in the alphabet.

  The holy tongue is here giving a profound insight into the difference between truth and falsehood. Truth is a broad and all-encompassing perspective, while falsehood is no more than a misleading and narrow snapshot.

  To know the truth you need to know the full picture, from beginning to end. You cannot understand a situation without knowing the background, the events that led to it. And you don't know whether an event is a victory or a defeat until its consequences unravel.

  On the other hand, to view a scene in isolation, out of context, ignorant of the facts and unaware of the backdrop, will invariably lead to false impressions.

  Sadly, modern mainstream media is prone to falsehood. Catchy sound bites, dramatic images, angry reactions and loose accusations are far more newsworthy than lengthy explanations, detailed analysis and historic perspective. In the grab for airtime, a tedious truth will not compete with a flotilla (pun intended) of falsehood.

  Torah is Emet—it is true. It takes into consideration the entire spectrum of human existence and the entire spectrum of human history, from the beginning, “alef,” through the middle, “men,” through the end, “tuv.”

  Often we make decisions in lifer based in very narrow perspective. When you are 20 you think about your concerns at the moment but you make decisions that sometimes last a life time. Same when you are 30 and 40. You become consumed with your needs at that time and you ignore the full picture of your life. Do you realize that in a few years all of your priorities may change?

  This is the value of Torah. It is Emet. It gives us perspective that encompass a life time. It teaches us to look at reality from a broader, larger vantage point. It introduces mitzvos, rituals and laws that confer meaning and significance that last for a life time. It inculcates within us priorities that never change even as we grow older and wiser.

  10.  The Bride

  An anecdote:

  A wife was reading a newspaper while her husband was engrossed in a game on TV.

  Suddenly, she burst out laughing. "Listen to this, there's a classified ad here where a guy is offering to swap his wife for a season tickets."

  "Hmmm," her husband said, not bothering to look away from the game.

  Sarah said teasingly, "Would you swap me for season tickets?"

  "Absolutely not," he said, "season's more than half over."

  If you want to understand Jews and Judaism, think of Simchas Torah. It's the only festival that is the pure creation of the Jewish people. All the others were either written in the Torah or came about through historical events, like Purim and Hanukkah. Not so Simchas Torah, which isn't mentioned in the Torah, not even in the Talmud. It appeared for the first time in the early middle ages and is described as a “minhag,” a Jewish custom.

  Now you might have thought that with all their dispersion and persecution Jews would have created a fast, but they didn't. They created a day of pure joy. And joy in what? In the Torah, a book of law.

  Rabbi Jonathan Sacks put it nicely:

  Imagine a group of English or American judges or law professors, so seized with the beauty of their subject that they dance around the supreme-court holding books of legislation in their arms. You're right. It couldn't happen. On 14 October 1663 the great diarist Samuel Pepys visited a synagogue in London. It happened to be Simchas Torah. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. People dancing around in a house of God? He'd never seen anything like it. The majesty and impartiality of law you can find elsewhere, but Simchat Torah, the joy of the law -- for that you need to go to Shul.

  If you want to understand Jews and Judaism, think of Simchat Torah and we realise that Judaism is really a love story: the story of the love of a people for a book, the book with which we dance with on Simchat Torah as if it were a brid

  11.  No Mah Nishtanah?

  The Prince of Mannheim once approached the Netziv, Rabbi Naftoli Tzvi Yehuda Berlin, with the following question: Every year at the Seder on Pesach, Jewish children ask their father "Mah Nishtana," "Why is this night different from all other nights?" But Pesach is not the only time Jews perform unusual commandments. On Sukkos, the Jews move out of their comfortable homes and dwell outdoors in a hut. Shouldn't this cause a child to ask Mah Nishtana on Sukkos as well?

  The Netziv answered that the observances on Pesach are truly different. A child sees actions that are not in accordance with Jewish life. The whole family sits and reclines together at the table with tranquility, behaving as free people, and performing rituals actions of truly free people: drinking four cups of wine and reclining as kings. This causes a child to wonder what is going on. What happened to us? Why are we behaving as though we are free and royal? It is strange! So he asks “mah nishtanah?”

  However, on Sukkos, the child sees the family exit their house and take shelter in the Sukkah. For a Jewish child, this is not a strange sight. He knows that the Jews have always been “the wandering people.” He knows that the Jews have been forced to constantly wander in exile. He knows that the Jews have never considered their house their permanent home because they may have to move in a moment’s notice to flee persecution. For the child, leaving the home is not a strange sight. Therefore, the child does not ask Mah Nishtana on Sukkos…

  Gilad Shalit

  I share with you this story because it so captures the sentiments of the Jewish world, this past Tuesday, when we watched Gilad Shalit, five years in captivity by Hamas, return home and embrace his father and mother.

  The emotions were running high. Seeing Gilad Shalit, a brave defender of the Jewish People, finally reunited with his family was overwhelming. After five years in the Hell of Hamas, we merited to see his deep eyes and soft features smiling to us back from within the borders of our Holy Land.

  Yet our joy is incomplete. Reading the Prime Minister’s letter to the family of the victims of the terrorists being freed, and the haunting promises and calls in Gaza of “the next Gilad,” I feel the pain and hurt of the past, and the palpable worry for the future, of a nation still very wounded.

  It is a very complicated question and the Lubavitcher Rebbe himself discussed both sides of the matter (at the farbrengen of Motzei Shabbos Bamidbar 5739, 1979 and on other occasions).

  The Two Sides

  Here are the issues in brief:

  On one hand, we do anything to save the life of a Jew. Gilad would ultimately be killed by Hamas if not swapped for all those 1,027 terrorists. We know the saving the life of a single Jew overrides every other mitzvah, and every other agenda. (Never mind the removal of endless pain and anxiety of his parents and family.)

  Despite the conflict of feelings and emotions, everyone, everyone, from the close-knit members of the Shalit family (and aren’t we all a part of their family today) to the cynical journalists in pacifist Europe, to the murderous bloodsuckers across the Middle East, every one of us realized something profound about the Jewish People: that we are one.

  If there is just one thread missing in the global tapestry of our people we are incomplete. Whether right or wrong, fair or unjust, there is no one that will deny that there is nothing more valuable and precious to the Jewish people, than the brother or sister next to them.

  The Dangers

  On the other hand, we cannot save the life of one Jew by taking the life of another Jew. Here are the great questions about what has occurred:

  1. By swapping Gilad for more than 1,000 Arab terrorists, we are showing Hamas that the tactic works. For one kidnapping they can get 1000 prisoners free, most of them people who will continue to actively work for Hamas. This will motivate them to kidnap, heaven forbid, more soldiers and do it again and again and again. This is not speculation; the leaders of Hamas said clearly they will continue doing this because it works. This means that by swapping Gilad we are directly endangering other lives who might be kidnapped and then killed.

  2. Most of the prisoners have declared that they will return to the armed struggle against Israel. Hamas said so clearly. This means that some of those free are likely to attempt the murder of innocent people in the future. By saving Gilad, we are putting on the streets active mass murderers who are motivated to kill as many Jews as possible.

  3. Israel is at war with Hamas. This swap was a major victory for Hamas. Israel was defeated by Hamas. This strengthens them, it gives them more resolve, confidence, and hope for the future. At a time of war, such defeat for Israel is lethal.

  The Option

  What, then, was the option? To Let Gilad die?

  In truth, the option was very different. And it brings us to a very painful discussion. It is not about this swap; this swap is merely a symptom of a much deeper reality. It is about the entire mentality of Israel which has gone sour. Israel is more concerned with fear of what the World will say than with the security of its citizens. Long ago, Israel should have told Hamas: We are making an ultimatum. If within 24 hours Gilad is not free, we will destroy you without mercy. Israel should have used this opportunity to obliterate everything owned by Hamas and eliminate all of its terrorist members. If the world screams, you answer: They could just free Gilad and it will all stop. 

  But Israel has developed a mentality of very deep concern and fear of every opinion of the world. They are spit on, they are scoffed at, they are the laughing stock of Hamas, but they have done this to themselves by allowing Hamas grow its terror and its war against Israel without really going at them.

  There is another sad and tragic issue at hand: The media in Israel, even the leftist media, including many liberals in Israel, have been fighting now for years to get Gilad Shalit free. All day and night they protested that the Israeli government should do everything to liberate Gilad Shalit. This only played into the hands of Hamas, because by creating tremendous pressure on Israel to do anything to get him free, it gave Hamas tremendous leverage in their negotiations. If I know you will do anything to get my house, I will raise the price from 1 million to 20 million.

  One more point to consider: Jews are idealistic people and compassionate people. The idealism and compassion of the left wing Israelis has been directed in recent years toward Gilad Shalit. This became their agenda: Free Gilad Shalit. By doing this, they ignored the real cause of the problem: Hamas and the Arabs who want to destroy Israel. Instead of focusing on pressuring Israel to target the real enemy, Hamas, and destroy it completely, the focus became on something that is "pareve" and "everyone agrees on:" Liberating Gilad Shalit. By misplacing their idealism, they only allow Hamas to grow stronger and more proud and more successful.

  The tragedy of the situation is beyond words. Because it is getting only worse and worse. And all Israeli leaders are going down the same slope of defeat and surrender to world opinion and Arab propaganda even when it endangers Jewish lives.

  Jews living in the shtetl in the 1920s had more Jewish confidence and pride than some of our great Jewish leaders, who have one of the best armies in the world. What a disgrace. We need Jewish leaders who are not afraid to stand up to falsehood and terror with unwavering clarity and dignity.

   

  
  

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  [1] Deuteronomy 33:2

  [2] Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Horodok (also called Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Vitebsk) and Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi were both disciples of the Great Maggid, Rabbi DovBer of Mezeritch, the second leader of the Chassidic movement. Following the Maggid’s passing in 1772, Rabbi Schneur Zalman regarded Rabbi Mendel as his master and mentor. In 1777, Rabbi Mendel led a group of more than 300 chassidim to settle in the Holy Land. Rabbi Schneur Zalman was originally part of the group, but Rabbi Mendel convinced him to remain behind and assume the leadership of the chassidic community in White Russia and Lithuania.

  [3] Atah Horeisa (“You have been shown...”) is the first of an anthology of seventeen verses recited as an introduction to the hakafot (joyous procession and dance with the Torah scrolls around the reading table) of Simchat Torah. The verse (Deuteronomy 4:35) reads: “You have been shown to know that Havayeh is Elokim, there is none else beside Him.” Chassidic teaching contains dozens of discourses and thousands of pages explaining the concepts contained in this verse.

  [4] Ibid. 33:27

  [5] Rashi translates zeroos as “the mighty ones,” that below are the mighty ones of the world. The translation here, based on the Chassidic masters, follows the literal meaning of zeroos as arms.

  [6] Based on an address by the Rebbe, Simchat Torah 5742 (1981), Maamar Lehavin Einyan Simchas Torah.

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