Winter to Spring: The Cycles of Nature, Humanity & History
Warsaw 1963—Jerusalem 2018
- March 23, 2018
- |
- 7 Nisan 5778
Rabbi YY Jacobson
12 viewsWinter to Spring: The Cycles of Nature, Humanity & History
Warsaw 1963—Jerusalem 2018
Rabbi YY Jacobson
- March 23, 2018
A Perfect Man
A Perfect Man
- wakes up at 5 am every day
- exercises every day
- makes his own bed
- cleans his room
- works sincerely
- does not touch alcohol
- helps in the kitchen
- does not indulge in nightlife
- is always punctual
- does not spend any time surfing the web
- prays daily
- reads
- hits the bed at 9 pm sharp.But where do you find such perfect men?
Answer: in jail.
The Flies
A woman walked into the kitchen to find her husband stalking a round with a fly swatter.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Hunting flies," He responded.
"Oh, killing any?" She asked.
"Yep, three males, two females," he replied.
Intrigued, she asked, how can you tell?
He responded, "Three were on a beer can, two were on the phone."
Awaking from Slumber
Three times, no less, does the Torah caution us to celebrate Passover only during the spring season.[1] Each time, the Torah employs the term “shamor,” guard. You need to guard and protect the date of Passover.
Here is the third one:
Keep the month of spring, and make the Passover offering to the Lord, your God, for in the month of spring, the Lord, your God, brought you out of Egypt at night.
ראה טז, א: שָׁמוֹר֙ אֶת־חֹ֣דֶשׁ הָֽאָבִ֔יב וְעָשִׂ֣יתָ פֶּ֔סַח לַֽיהֹוָ֖ה אֱלֹהֶ֑יךָ כִּ֞י בְּחֹ֣דֶשׁ הָֽאָבִ֗יב הוֹצִ֨יאֲךָ֜ יְהֹוָ֧ה אֱלֹהֶ֛יךָ מִמִּצְרַ֖יִם לָֽיְלָה:
This is no easy task, which is why the Torah must caution us to “guard” the date. Our months follow the lunar cycle, so naturally Passover would fall out at various seasons of the year (just like Ramadan, which can sometimes be in the summer, or winter, or spring or autumn, since the Muslim calendar is a lunar one.) We have to go to great lengths in order to “safeguard” our Passover holiday, to make sure it does “move” away to another season, and always coincides with spring. For this purpose, every 2-3 years we need to create a leap-year, add an extra month to our calendar, so that Passover falls out later in the year.[2]
Why was the Torah so adamant that we observe Passover during the spring season? The Torah explains this at three occasions. “For in the month of spring, G-d brought you out of Egypt.” Granted. But why is it important to celebrate Passover each year at the identical season when it occurred the first time? Would the matzah or horseradish taste so different if it was very hot or very cold outdoors?
In a letter sent to a Jewish educator and activist, Mordechai Cohen, who was involved with Jewish education in Tunisia, dated 1 Iyar 5711, May 7, 1951, the Lubavitcher Rebbe presented a moving explanation.
Winter
Winter. You go out to your yard, or you go on a nature walk, the trees stand there, bedecked with snow, ice, and cold. They appear lifeless. No growth, no vegetation, no green, no life. No fruits, flowers or leaves. The trunk and branches lay there bare, exposed and motionless.
It took humanity millennia to discover the extraordinary planning, mechanisms and brilliance the tree is employing during the winter season.
How Trees Survive
(Rabbis: I spelled out the details for those who are less familiar with the process; choose to present the details you feel appropriate.)
In the autumn when the weather cools, something amazing happens up in the trees. All the green leaves begin to change colors: yellow, red, orange, blue, and brown. Then, the tree sheds its leaves, and it remains bare till springtime. What makes the leaves change color and what makes them fall?
It is one of those incredible aspects of nature. Winter is a cold and difficult time for many organisms, including trees, and the trees must prepare themselves to survive. The tree has to “winterize” itself.
Since trees can’t uproot themselves and migrate south to warmer clients like certain animals, trees enter a dormant state similar to the hibernation of snakes, bees, skunks, bears and bats (to name a few).
This winterization process is a must for trees’ survival. Leaves are the food factory of the plant. Trees take in water through their roots and sunlight and carbon dioxide through their leaves. They use the energy from the sunlight to turn water and carbon dioxide into oxygen and glucose, a kind of sugar (the process of converting sunlight into energy we all know as photosynthesis.) The oxygen is released back into the atmosphere where it can be used by animals; the glucose (sugar) is used to feed the plant. The process of “photosynthesis” is possible because plants have a bright green chemical inside of them called “chlorophyll” which allows them to absorb the energy from sunlight. Chlorophyll is what makes leaves look so green.
As summer ends and fall begins, the days begin to grow shorter and the nights longer, meaning that less light is available, and here is not enough light or water for the leaves to make their food. (Even though it rains in the winter, the water freezes in the earth and the tree does not get enough of it to pass on to its leaves.)
It is much more energy efficient for trees to lose their leaves in winter. It is better for the tree to “shut down” over winter, lose their leaves and survive on their carbohydrate stores until spring comes around. (Plus, most trees have broad leaves that are susceptible to being damaged during cold or dry weather.)
So the trees begin to shut down their food factories. As unfavorable weather approaches, hormones in the trees trigger the process of abscission whereby the leaves are actively cut-off of the tree by specialized cells. At the start of the abscission process, trees reabsorb valuable nutrients from their leaves and store them for later use in their roots. Chlorophyll, the pigment that gives leaves their green color, is one of the first molecules to be broken down for its nutrients. (This is ONE of the reasons why trees turn red, orange, and gold colors during the fall. With the chlorophyll gone the green color fades and other colors become visible in the leaves.)
At the end of the abscission process, when the leaves have been shed, a protective layer of cells grows over the exposed area.[3]
In summation: During winter’s dormancy, a tree’s metabolism, energy consumption, and growth all slow down significantly in order to endure the harsh season of winter when water and sunlight are scarcer. Dormancy occurs in stages; it begins in the fall with the loss of leaves, so trees do not expend energy in keeping them alive during the winter. During the winter months, the rate of growth is brought nearly to a halt. The stored energy is utilized to maintain the tree’s health, instead of being used for growth. Without cell division and growth, or the task of keeping its leaves alive, trees are able to survive through winter by maintaining only the “essential systems” until the spring.
Spring Arrives
And then…
After a frigid winter of hibernation and deadness, the trees barren, and the leaves lifeless, the climate dreary and depressing, spring comes with a new song on its lips. Nature awakens from its slumber.
King Solomon described it in the Song of Songs,[4] which many read after the Seder:
For behold, the winter has passed; the rain is over and gone.
The blossoms have appeared in the land, the time of singing has arrived, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.
The fig tree has put forth its green figs, and the vines with their tiny grapes have given forth their fragrance; arise, my beloved, my fair one, and come away.
My dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the coverture of the steps, show me your appearance, let me hear your voice, for your voice is pleasant and your appearance is comely.
But is this divorced from the winter reality of the tree?
Absolutely not! The spring blossoming is a direct result of the incredible work the tree did during the harsh winter, conserving its energy and nutrients. What seemed like lifelessness was the furthest thing from it; it was really the conservation of life internally, allowing afterward for the outward blossoming.
When Your Life Looks Cold
The micro and the macro work in unison—the systems G-d invested in nature, reflect the internal systems of human life.
Sometimes you look at your own life, and it seems dull, numb, and lifeless. We look at certain periods of our lives, in the past or the present, and all we can observe is deadness, coldness, and dormancy. At such moments, we feel mechanical, passionless, and motionless. We go through the routines, perhaps, but we feel numb and frozen.
But this is a merely superficial reading of the human tree. When you look at the tree that seems so lifeless, look again and look deeper. It is far from dead. In many ways, it is more alive than it ever was. Its entire life-force is focused internally, but it’s not gone.
When you look at a particular period on your own life, and it seems hopeless, fruitless, and unpromising—look again! There is a simmering life beneath the surface. Maybe you can’t see it, but your internal tree experiences it. If you give it some time, and some sunlight and water, warmth and nourishment, it will come back to life.
What is more, our times of dormancy serve a vital purpose. At times, our minds and souls retreat into hibernation in order to conserve energy focus and vitality. It is essential to the process of nature. You can’t be bedecked with green leaves an entire time, producing fruits for nourishment, flowers for smell, nectar, and color, and oxygenating the planet. There are times in life, our internal clock sheds the leaves and retreats into its inner self. Don’t be afraid of such moments; they will allow you to regenerate with new gusto and oomph![5]
Education
This is especially true in the field of education—the essence of the Passover experience.
As our children, grandchildren, and students, grow, they vacillate between all seasons of G-d’s world. Yes, some people are “winters” and “summers,” but ALL people go through winter and summer. Often when we encounter the “winter season” in our child, we become despondent. We see no growth, vitality, or passion. But we may be mistaken. People go through stages. They are not always capable of operating on a maximum level. We sometimes retreat into hibernation.
At such moments, never give up on your tree. Be there for it. Cherish it, believe in it, and nurture it. It may not respond vivaciously, but everything you are giving it is being internalized. Sometimes even deeper now. You give your love, guidance, wisdom, and care. Show attentiveness, and presence of mind, heart and soul. The tree is conserving energy and can’t always smile back at you. Its sunlight is too scarce to squander it on a smile. Your teen-ager may have too little sunlight today to afford you the warm hug and accolades you so deeply crave for. Don’t worry. Don’t flee. Don’t get frustrated and annoyed. And heaven forbid, never sever his roots. Show up in the winter, as you do in the spring. Externals are deceiving. The tree is faking dead, only to survive. It is really alive and well. And then spring will come—and suddenly, as the sun appears, all the supposedly dead trees will burst into life.
From the Lowest to the Highest
We can now appreciate one of the reasons that the Torah instructs us to celebrate Passover during spring time—for it is this season and its botanical wonders that allow us to internalize the one of the holiday’s vital messages.
The prophet Ezekiel described the Jewish people before the Exodus in these words: “But you were naked and bare.”[6] Similarly to the tree in the winter: naked and bare.
When the Jews were in Egypt, the sages teach us, they were submerged in the “forty-nine gates” of impurity, to the point that if they would have remained there for longer, they could not be redeemed.[7] What this means is, they lost all interest, enthusiasm, passion, for growth, change and redemption. They suffered so much, they were at the verge of despair. Even with the Ten Plagues and all the extraordinary miracles they observed, internally they were numb, and dry. To the extent, that as the Midrash puts it,[8] that the celestial angels wondered why the Jews were being saved when they were idol worshippers just like the Egyptians.
But, just as the tree, that was only on the outside. At the surface it seemed like the Jews were bare and naked. As “spring” arrived, as Passover came, their true green colors appeared: The people blossomed, and merely seven weeks after liberation, in a singular moment in history, G-d revealed Himself to them and gave them a Torah—a blueprint to create a nation under the direct sovereignty of G-d, and to change the world. Within a few weeks, everyone could realize the incredible transformation that has happened to this people during all those years in Egyptian exile. They may have seemed lifeless, but internally, they were not only alive; they were being transformed.
Jewish History
This is also true of Jewish history.
Rabbi Yisroel Altar (1895 – 1977), also known as the Beis Yisroel, was the fifth Rebbe of the Chasidic dynasty of Ger, a position he held from 1948 until 1977. He escaped from Poland during the Holocaust and settled in Israel during 1940. In 1945 he learnt that the Nazis had murdered his wife, daughter, son and grandchildren. He remarried but had no children.
One year after the Holocaust, the Gerer Rebbe was reciting the Passover Haggadah. He reached this strange passage in the Haggadah:
One may think that [the discussion of the exodus] must be from the first of the month. The Torah therefore says, `On that day.' `On that day,' however, could mean while it is yet daytime; the Torah therefore says, `It is because of this.' The expression `because of this' can only be said when matzah and maror are placed before you.
The Gerer Rebbe explained, that one might think that the Exodus of Egypt could be celebrated only during daytime, “mebeod yom,” when the sun casts its rays and life is bright, warm and filled with visible energy. No, says the Haggadah. We celebrate redemption even—and precisely—during “night time,” when “matzah and maror are placed before you,” when the food representing slavery and hardship are before you.
Because the springs of Jewish life are never divorced from the winters of our lives. We can only blossom in spring, because of the internalized work during the cold and harsh winters.
Warsaw, 1963
I heard the following story from Rabbi Israel Meir Lau, former chief Rabbi of Israel, at a Shabbaton in Los Angeles, one year ago, on Shabbat Parshat Shmini, 5777/2017.
It happened in Warsaw, in 1963. The city decided to commemorate the 30th anniversary since the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, in April 1943, during the holiday of Pesach. Warsaw was under the Communist Regime but they could not ignore the Jewish angle; so they brought from Israel Rabbi Yitzchak Yedeideh Frankl, chief rabbi of Tel Aviv (who was the father in law of Rabbi Lau, and Lau later replaced him as chief rabbi of Tel Aviv), who survived the Warsaw Ghetto, and Dr. Nachun Goldman, President of World Jewish Congress.
That Shabbos, Parshas Shmini, 1963, Rabbi Frankl went to pray at the Warsaw Synagogue. Only few Jews showed up. It was the dark years of Communism which almost completely eclipsed Jewish life in Warsaw the entire Soviet Union. All Jews who were present, including the guests, knew that there were always spies of the KGB present. So nobody uttered an extra word. It was depressing, sad and lonely. These synagogues lost their entire sap. A few old men would come and pray.
Rabbi Frankel was invited to give the Shabbos sermon. He spoke of the Warsaw he recalled from his youth, a city numbering some 500,000 Jews, with thousands of shuls, schools, institutions, and people of all stripes and colors, with incredible pious Jews, great scholars, leaders, Rebbes, and all types of other personalities. Today, he said, I look around the shul, and I barely see a minyan. Of the half-million-Jews of Warsaw, almost no one remains.
What happened to my Warsaw? he cried.
Rabbi Frankel quoted the powerful verse from that weekly portion, Shmini, when following the death of Nadav and Avihu, the new priests, the two sons of Aaron, Moses tells the bereaved father: “The entire house of Israel shall bewail the conflagration that the Lord has burned.”[9]
Rabbi Frankel burst into sobs. “The entire house of Israel shall bewail the conflagration that the Lord has burned.” Let’s all wail for Warsaw Jewry, for Polish Jewry, for East European Jewry!
The crowd wept. And then Rabbi Frankl announced: I see in the audience one Rabbi who remains yet from Pre-War Warsaw, Rabbi Aaron Kohen, who carries the name Aaron, just like our first High Priest Aaron. Come, Reb Aaron, come and say a few words. Help me mourn the fire that G-d has burnt.
Reb Aaron Kohen was a wise man. He approached the pulpit, and uttered no more than two words—also from the weekly portion. Following the death of the two sons of Aaron the Torah states: “Vayedom Aharon,” and Aaron remained silent.
Rabbi Frankel got the message. He was intimating that he must remain silent; he cannot speak his mind. The place is infested with spies; Reb Aaron Kohen, a local resident, must remain silent. Anything he might say can be used against him. He can be sent to the Gulag. Silence was the only option. “Aaron remained silent.”
This occurred, as we said, on April 1963.
Israel, 2017
Rabbi Israel Meir Lau, a son in law of Rabbi Yitzchak Frankel, burst into tears. And these were his words:
55 years have passed since Shabbos Shmini 1963 in Warsaw. Come with me to Jerusalem, and enter into the Beis Din HaGadol—the great Jewish court in the capital of Israel. Who resides at the head table? The new chief Rabbi of Israel, my son, Rabbi David Lau, a grandson of Rabbi Yitzchak Frankel.
Who sits right next to him? Another Rabbinic judge. His name? Rabbi David Cohen, a grandson of Rabbi Aaron Cohen from Warsaw.
In 1963, the two grandfathers—Rabbi Frankel and Rabbi Kohen—met in Warsaw. All they can do was wail and weep, for the decimation they saw. They can sob for the “fire that G-d has burnt.”
55 years later, their two grandchildren meet, on a daily basis. Where? In the eternal Jewish homeland, in Eretz Yisroel; inside the eternal Jewish capital, Jerusalem. They sit there together in order to study, explore, and decide on matters of Torah and Halacha, Jewish law, applying it to the lives of six million Jews who live in the Land of Israel.
Do you need to know anything else in order to appreciate Jewish history?
You see, Jerusalem in 2018 is not divorced from Warsaw in 1963, or Warsaw in 1943. These are not two disparate realities, just as winter and spring are not two divorced entities. When you look at the tree that seems so lifeless, look again and look deeper. It is far from dead. In many ways, it is more alive than it ever was. Its entire life-force is focused internally. The vitality is not gone; it is just not visible to the naked, superficial eye.
When you look at a period in your own life, or in Jewish life as a whole, and it seems lifeless, hopeless, morose, bleak, fruitless, and unpromising—look again! There is a life beneath the surface. And if you give it some time, and some sunlight and water, warmth and nourishment, if you give our people the passion (sunlight) and the Torah (water[10]), this tree will regenerate into a blossoming powerhouse. It will produce oxygen, flowers and fruits to vitalize, adorn and nourish our world.
The Ultimate Fantasy
Let me share with you a story.
Sasha and Luda were two young Russian Jews in Ukraine who accepted the request of Hillel in the Former Soviet Union to create a Seder in a small town in the northern part of the country, right after the Iran Curtain collapsed in 1989. They attended two week long seminars to prepare them, and they were “ready to roll”. Whatever they lacked in knowledge they made up in enthusiasm.
Luda had been to her first Seder the previous year. She was raised knowing that she was a Jew, but the term was essentially devoid of any significance. Other than a stamp on her internal passport, there was nothing that distinguished her from her neighbors.
Sasha had never been to a Seder. In fact, he was only told that he was a Jew when he was 19 years old. His parents were hesitant about identifying publicly as Jews, as they were still skeptical that the post-Soviet openness, then in its infancy, would be sustained. Somehow he became aware of his roots, became connected, and volunteered with Luda to run one of the communal Seders.
Four days before Seder night they came to the chosen town. It had an estimated 700 Jews. Sasha and Luda hoped to attract between 150-175 Jews to the Seder. Others told them they were overly optimistic, but they were undeterred. They came with some money to rent a hall and buy some Seder staples, and brought along about 150 haggadot in Hebrew and Russian. The first order of business was to rent space to accommodate a crowd.
In the center of the town there was a large building that was a local art school. It had a basement hall that was perfect for the Seder, along with tables and chairs. One of the school’s staff explained to them that the building was the local Communist Party headquarters just four years previous, hence it was outfitted so well. When the Soviet Union disbanded, the Rada, the Ukranian Parliament, outlawed the Communist Party. That accounted for the building’s transformation.
Sasha and Luda worked hard to prepare. They hung posters advertising the event and inviting local Jews. They taught some children Passover songs. They decorated the hall.
Seder night. Advertisements called for a 7 pm beginning. By 6:15, the 168 seats were taken. And people kept coming. And coming. By 7:00, there were more than 300 people squeezed into the hall, and disappointed people in the hallways throughout the building. (Fire “regulations” were related to in those days as advisory rather than compulsory).
The two Hillel students began the Seder, and barely stopped for air. During their explanations there was not a sound in the room. This was punctuated with boisterous singing, mostly without words which were anyway unfamiliar. Wine. Questions. Eggs. Saltwater. Matzah. Maror. All went off without a hitch.
After the modest meal, Sasha gave a short explanation of the fifth cup of wine, known as the Cup of Elijah. He explained how Elijah was to be the harbinger of the messianic era. He spoke of Jewish history as a linear concept always moving towards a better end, toward redemption, as opposed to the circular, repetitive concept of history of the Greeks.
When he finished there was a stirring in the back of the room. An older man stood up and pointed his finger at Sasha and began to speak to him in a very agitated way. Under other circumstances he would have been quieted by the others, but his jacket was full of medals. He was clearly a war hero, and therefore entitled to a modicum of respect despite his rude interruption.
Wagging his finger, he said to Sasha: ”Now you’ve lost us. You’ve simply gone too far. Until now, this whole evening brought back wonderful memories to me. I closed my eyes every few minutes and remembered the Seders of my childhood. My grandfather led it in Hebrew, and explained it all to us in Yiddish. I remember the melodies and the smells. It’s been almost 80 years, but it was like yesterday. And your explanations were wonderful. Slavery. Freedom. Asking questions; remembering the tears, celebrating our liberty. All wonderful. But what is this nonsense about a Messiah? And a ‘messianic’ era? You’ve gone too far. You can’t prove any of that. It’s all a bunch of nonsense. Made up. Fantasy. You lost me. And I bet you lost a lot of others here. Stick to history and Tradition. Leave the make believe out.”
Again, silence in the room. I would expect that most people felt sorry for these two young people who clearly had invested so much in making the evening memorable. In one moment, the positive feelings hung in the balance. This was a test. And a patently unfair one. Age and experience were working against Sasha and Luda—two very young Russian, ignorant Jews. As was the setting: All eyes were now fixed on them. There was a slight pause. And then Sasha spoke. Slowly and respectfully.
“You’re right. This business about the Messiah, and the messianic era, can’t be empirically proven. And yes, it does require faith, or at least imagination, to embrace it. But I want to ask you about another fantasy, another leap of faith. One that perhaps for you and me was even more farfetched than this one.
“Imagine that you and I had walked down this street together five years ago. We would have passed this building. It’s the most prominent building in town. And covering the façade of the top floor is a large stone circle, with a hammer and sickle at its center. You and I would have stopped to admire the building. And then I would have said to you: ‘I know this will be hard to believe- but five years from now, in the basement of this building, in this Communist Party Headquarters, our community will hold a public Seder. A Seder! It will be publicized so that everyone in town will know that it’s going to happen. And hundreds of Jews are going to come out. And two young Jews will lead the Seder. And Jewish children will sing. And families will learn together and experience Jewish Tradition. Not secretly and rushed. But proudly in a public place. And not any public place – in the building that represented our oppressors – the great and powerful Soviet Union.”
Sasha paused a moment to let it all sink in. And then he continued, still in a very respectful manner, looking straight at his challenger:
“Now I ask you: That scenario and the scenario about the messianic era—which strikes you as more outlandish and improbable?”
Absolute silence. The crowd burst out singing Am Yisrael Chai, a kind of anthem of the Soviet Jewry protest movement that speaks to the eternity of the Jewish People and the reality of our faith that very very soon Moshiach will enter the door and redeem our people and our world.
Because exile is no more than a long winter. And when all of our internal energy, vitality, holiness and purity will burst forth—the world will be healed.
The Original Letter of the Rebbe:
ב"ה, א' אייר, ה'תיש"א ברוקלין, נ. י.
הנו"נ אי"א עסקן חרוץ וכו' מו"ה מרדכי כהן שי'
שלום וברכה!
קבלתי הרצאתו על מצב החינוך במדינת טוניסיא ות"ח על זה. וינעם לי לשמוע מזמן לזמן מפעולותיהם הטובות בשדה חינוך בני ובנות ישראל שם.
על פי בקשתו, צויתי למשרד ה"מרכז לעניני חינוך" לשלוח חבילת ספרים על כתובת הרב במברון שליט"א, ובטח נתקבלו בסדר, ותאושר קבלתם.
ומענין חג הפסח שחגונו זה עתה וגם בקשר עם ימי האביב המ[מ]שמשים כעת ברוב הדר, הנה חג הפסח סימנו בכתוב שצריך להיות בחודש האביב. בטבע, עם הופעת האביב, הנה כחות הטבע שהיו בהעלם במשך ימי החורף, עד שלעין הרואה נדמה שנפסקה החיות יצירה צמיחה וגידול, הנה לפתע פתאום בחודש האביב מתגלה לעין כל שלא הי' זה אלא משך זמן של קיבוץ כחות למען יופיעו אח"כ אילנות מלבלבים ושדות עטופים ירק, כמרז"ל היוצא בימי ניסן ורואה אילנות שמוציאים פרח צריך לברך כו'.
ומוסר השכל בזה לכולנו, שאם יש בחיינו איזה תקופה שאפשר לטעות בה שאינה תקופה של יצירה צמיחה וגידול, קרוב לודאי שאין זה אלא טעות בידינו, וההפסק ישמש לתוספות כח, וכלשון המשל להוצאת פרח ולגמול פירות.
ויש למצוא רמז זה בענין דפסח, שאחרי התקופה המרה של גלות מצרים גלות הגוף וגלות הנשמה גם יחד, עד ששר מצרים טען מה נשתנו אלו מאלו כו', הנה במשך זמן מועט נתגלה בהם הזיכוך שפעל גלות מצרים, ובחמשים יום נתעלו ממ"ט שערי טומאה לקבלת התורה מפי הקב"ה בכבודו ובעצמו.
בברכת הצלחה בעבודתו לקרב בני ובנות ישראל לאבינו שבשמים.
[1] Exodus 23:15. Exodus 34:18
[2] Without this, Passover would fall backward each year, since the lunar year is 11-days shorter than the solar year. If your birthday is April 12, which coincides with 1 Nissan, your following Hebrew birthday, following the lunar cycle, will be 11 days earlier, on April 1, which will be 1 Nissan.
[3] Trees that lose their leaves every winter are called deciduous trees. Not all trees lose their leaves however. Evergreen trees keep their leaves all year long. Evergreen leaves usually called needles are small and tough; they won't be damaged by the cold winter weather and they won't cause the tree to lose water like bigger leaves do. Their roots are also deeper and manage to obtain water even in winter. Because of this, evergreen trees don't drop their needles in the fall and so can stay green all year round. This helps evergreens to survive in climates that are too cold for deciduous trees.
[4] Ch. 2
[5] The Baal Shem Tov employed a metaphor to convey this idea: the "spiral staircase." In Yiddish a spiral staircase is called "shvindel-trep."Shvindeltrep" means swindling steps. Steps that swindle. Why? Because when you climb a regular vertical staircase, you see yourself getting closer to the destination as you climb the stairs. A spiral staircase “swindles” you, because as you get closer to the destination you have to turn completely around, in a 180 degree turn, to the point where you cannot see the apex. As you climb you keep turning your back to the destination, and just before you reach the top, you must turn completely around for the last time. The key is to always remember, even when your eyes cannot see it and your heart cannot feel it, that we are on a climbing staircase, and we must continue to move. (See Sefer Hamaamarim 5565 p. 214. Or HaTorah Nach vol. 2 p. 884.)
[6] Ezekiel 16:7
[7] Zohar Chadah Yisro
[8] Zohar Terumah. Yalkut Reuveni Beshalach
[9] Leviticus 9:6
[10] See Bava Kama 17a
- Comment
Class Summary:
Why was the Torah so adamant that we observe Passover during the spring season? The Torah explains this at three occasions. “For in the month of spring, G-d brought you out of Egypt.” Granted. But why is it important to celebrate Passover each year at the identical season when it occurred the first time? Would the matzah or horseradish taste so different if it was very hot or very cold outdoors?
In a letter sent to a Jewish educator and activist, Mordechai Cohen, who was involved with Jewish education in Tunisia, on May 7, 1951, the Lubavitcher Rebbe presented a moving explanation.
Winter. You go out to your yard, or you go on a nature walk, the trees stand there, bedecked with snow, ice, and cold. They appear lifeless. No growth, no vegetation, no green, no life. No fruits, flowers or leaves. The trunk and branches lay there bare, exposed and motionless.
It took humanity millennia to discover the extraordinary planning, mechanisms and brilliance the tree is employing during the winter season allowing it to survive and thrive.
Warsaw, 1963. The city decided to commemorate the 30th anniversary since the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, in April 1943, during the holiday of Pesach. Warsaw was under the Communist Regime but they could not ignore the Jewish angle; so they brought from Israel Rabbi Yitzchak Yedeideh Frankl, chief rabbi of Tel Aviv. While in Warsaw he met another local Rabbi, Aaron Kohen. On Shabbos, they both wept, bemoaning the fate of Warsaw Jewry. From a city of 500,000 Jews, there was barely a minyan…
But 55 years later, in Jerusalem, something happened. And it captures the individual and collective story of our people—from winter to spring.
What was the teaching the Gerer Rebbe presented during Pesach one year after the Holocaust? What did the two Russian youngsters answer the cynic when he could not believe that Moshiach will ever come.
Sometimes you look at your own life, and it seems dull, numb, and lifeless. We look at certain periods of our lives, in the past or the present, and all we can observe is deadness, coldness, and dormancy. At such moments, we feel mechanical, passionless, and motionless. We go through the routines, perhaps, but we feel numb and frozen. But, as Pesach in the spring season teaches us, this is a merely superficial reading of the human tree.
A Perfect Man
A Perfect Man
- wakes up at 5 am every day
- exercises every day
- makes his own bed
- cleans his room
- works sincerely
- does not touch alcohol
- helps in the kitchen
- does not indulge in nightlife
- is always punctual
- does not spend any time surfing the web
- prays daily
- reads
- hits the bed at 9 pm sharp.
But where do you find such perfect men?
Answer: in jail.
The Flies
A woman walked into the kitchen to find her husband stalking a round with a fly swatter.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Hunting flies," He responded.
"Oh, killing any?" She asked.
"Yep, three males, two females," he replied.
Intrigued, she asked, how can you tell?
He responded, "Three were on a beer can, two were on the phone."
Awaking from Slumber
Three times, no less, does the Torah caution us to celebrate Passover only during the spring season.[1] Each time, the Torah employs the term “shamor,” guard. You need to guard and protect the date of Passover.
Here is the third one:
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Keep the month of spring, and make the Passover offering to the Lord, your God, for in the month of spring, the Lord, your God, brought you out of Egypt at night. |
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ראה טז, א: שָׁמוֹר֙ אֶת־חֹ֣דֶשׁ הָֽאָבִ֔יב וְעָשִׂ֣יתָ פֶּ֔סַח לַֽיהֹוָ֖ה אֱלֹהֶ֑יךָ כִּ֞י בְּחֹ֣דֶשׁ הָֽאָבִ֗יב הוֹצִ֨יאֲךָ֜ יְהֹוָ֧ה אֱלֹהֶ֛יךָ מִמִּצְרַ֖יִם לָֽיְלָה: |
This is no easy task, which is why the Torah must caution us to “guard” the date. Our months follow the lunar cycle, so naturally Passover would fall out at various seasons of the year (just like Ramadan, which can sometimes be in the summer, or winter, or spring or autumn, since the Muslim calendar is a lunar one.) We have to go to great lengths in order to “safeguard” our Passover holiday, to make sure it does “move” away to another season, and always coincides with spring. For this purpose, every 2-3 years we need to create a leap-year, add an extra month to our calendar, so that Passover falls out later in the year.[2]
Why was the Torah so adamant that we observe Passover during the spring season? The Torah explains this at three occasions. “For in the month of spring, G-d brought you out of Egypt.” Granted. But why is it important to celebrate Passover each year at the identical season when it occurred the first time? Would the matzah or horseradish taste so different if it was very hot or very cold outdoors?
In a letter sent to a Jewish educator and activist, Mordechai Cohen, who was involved with Jewish education in Tunisia, dated 1 Iyar 5711, May 7, 1951, the Lubavitcher Rebbe presented a moving explanation.
Winter
Winter. You go out to your yard, or you go on a nature walk, the trees stand there, bedecked with snow, ice, and cold. They appear lifeless. No growth, no vegetation, no green, no life. No fruits, flowers or leaves. The trunk and branches lay there bare, exposed and motionless.
It took humanity millennia to discover the extraordinary planning, mechanisms and brilliance the tree is employing during the winter season.
How Trees Survive
(Rabbis: I spelled out the details for those who are less familiar with the process; choose to present the details you feel appropriate.)
In the autumn when the weather cools, something amazing happens up in the trees. All the green leaves begin to change colors: yellow, red, orange, blue, and brown. Then, the tree sheds its leaves, and it remains bare till springtime. What makes the leaves change color and what makes them fall?
It is one of those incredible aspects of nature. Winter is a cold and difficult time for many organisms, including trees, and the trees must prepare themselves to survive. The tree has to “winterize” itself.
Since trees can’t uproot themselves and migrate south to warmer clients like certain animals, trees enter a dormant state similar to the hibernation of snakes, bees, skunks, bears and bats (to name a few).
This winterization process is a must for trees’ survival. Leaves are the food factory of the plant. Trees take in water through their roots and sunlight and carbon dioxide through their leaves. They use the energy from the sunlight to turn water and carbon dioxide into oxygen and glucose, a kind of sugar (the process of converting sunlight into energy we all know as photosynthesis.) The oxygen is released back into the atmosphere where it can be used by animals; the glucose (sugar) is used to feed the plant. The process of “photosynthesis” is possible because plants have a bright green chemical inside of them called “chlorophyll” which allows them to absorb the energy from sunlight. Chlorophyll is what makes leaves look so green.
As summer ends and fall begins, the days begin to grow shorter and the nights longer, meaning that less light is available, and here is not enough light or water for the leaves to make their food. (Even though it rains in the winter, the water freezes in the earth and the tree does not get enough of it to pass on to its leaves.)
It is much more energy efficient for trees to lose their leaves in winter. It is better for the tree to “shut down” over winter, lose their leaves and survive on their carbohydrate stores until spring comes around. (Plus, most trees have broad leaves that are susceptible to being damaged during cold or dry weather.)
So the trees begin to shut down their food factories. As unfavorable weather approaches, hormones in the trees trigger the process of abscission whereby the leaves are actively cut-off of the tree by specialized cells. At the start of the abscission process, trees reabsorb valuable nutrients from their leaves and store them for later use in their roots. Chlorophyll, the pigment that gives leaves their green color, is one of the first molecules to be broken down for its nutrients. (This is ONE of the reasons why trees turn red, orange, and gold colors during the fall. With the chlorophyll gone the green color fades and other colors become visible in the leaves.)
At the end of the abscission process, when the leaves have been shed, a protective layer of cells grows over the exposed area.[3]
In summation: During winter’s dormancy, a tree’s metabolism, energy consumption, and growth all slow down significantly in order to endure the harsh season of winter when water and sunlight are scarcer. Dormancy occurs in stages; it begins in the fall with the loss of leaves, so trees do not expend energy in keeping them alive during the winter. During the winter months, the rate of growth is brought nearly to a halt. The stored energy is utilized to maintain the tree’s health, instead of being used for growth. Without cell division and growth, or the task of keeping its leaves alive, trees are able to survive through winter by maintaining only the “essential systems” until the spring.
Spring Arrives
And then…
After a frigid winter of hibernation and deadness, the trees barren, and the leaves lifeless, the climate dreary and depressing, spring comes with a new song on its lips. Nature awakens from its slumber.
King Solomon described it in the Song of Songs,[4] which many read after the Seder:
For behold, the winter has passed; the rain is over and gone.
The blossoms have appeared in the land, the time of singing has arrived, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.
The fig tree has put forth its green figs, and the vines with their tiny grapes have given forth their fragrance; arise, my beloved, my fair one, and come away.
My dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the coverture of the steps, show me your appearance, let me hear your voice, for your voice is pleasant and your appearance is comely.
But is this divorced from the winter reality of the tree?
Absolutely not! The spring blossoming is a direct result of the incredible work the tree did during the harsh winter, conserving its energy and nutrients. What seemed like lifelessness was the furthest thing from it; it was really the conservation of life internally, allowing afterward for the outward blossoming.
When Your Life Looks Cold
The micro and the macro work in unison—the systems G-d invested in nature, reflect the internal systems of human life.
Sometimes you look at your own life, and it seems dull, numb, and lifeless. We look at certain periods of our lives, in the past or the present, and all we can observe is deadness, coldness, and dormancy. At such moments, we feel mechanical, passionless, and motionless. We go through the routines, perhaps, but we feel numb and frozen.
But this is a merely superficial reading of the human tree. When you look at the tree that seems so lifeless, look again and look deeper. It is far from dead. In many ways, it is more alive than it ever was. Its entire life-force is focused internally, but it’s not gone.
When you look at a particular period on your own life, and it seems hopeless, fruitless, and unpromising—look again! There is a simmering life beneath the surface. Maybe you can’t see it, but your internal tree experiences it. If you give it some time, and some sunlight and water, warmth and nourishment, it will come back to life.
What is more, our times of dormancy serve a vital purpose. At times, our minds and souls retreat into hibernation in order to conserve energy focus and vitality. It is essential to the process of nature. You can’t be bedecked with green leaves an entire time, producing fruits for nourishment, flowers for smell, nectar, and color, and oxygenating the planet. There are times in life, our internal clock sheds the leaves and retreats into its inner self. Don’t be afraid of such moments; they will allow you to regenerate with new gusto and oomph![5]
Education
This is especially true in the field of education—the essence of the Passover experience.
As our children, grandchildren, and students, grow, they vacillate between all seasons of G-d’s world. Yes, some people are “winters” and “summers,” but ALL people go through winter and summer. Often when we encounter the “winter season” in our child, we become despondent. We see no growth, vitality, or passion. But we may be mistaken. People go through stages. They are not always capable of operating on a maximum level. We sometimes retreat into hibernation.
At such moments, never give up on your tree. Be there for it. Cherish it, believe in it, and nurture it. It may not respond vivaciously, but everything you are giving it is being internalized. Sometimes even deeper now. You give your love, guidance, wisdom, and care. Show attentiveness, and presence of mind, heart and soul. The tree is conserving energy and can’t always smile back at you. Its sunlight is too scarce to squander it on a smile. Your teen-ager may have too little sunlight today to afford you the warm hug and accolades you so deeply crave for. Don’t worry. Don’t flee. Don’t get frustrated and annoyed. And heaven forbid, never sever his roots. Show up in the winter, as you do in the spring. Externals are deceiving. The tree is faking dead, only to survive. It is really alive and well. And then spring will come—and suddenly, as the sun appears, all the supposedly dead trees will burst into life.
From the Lowest to the Highest
We can now appreciate one of the reasons that the Torah instructs us to celebrate Passover during spring time—for it is this season and its botanical wonders that allow us to internalize the one of the holiday’s vital messages.
The prophet Ezekiel described the Jewish people before the Exodus in these words: “But you were naked and bare.”[6] Similarly to the tree in the winter: naked and bare.
When the Jews were in Egypt, the sages teach us, they were submerged in the “forty-nine gates” of impurity, to the point that if they would have remained there for longer, they could not be redeemed.[7] What this means is, they lost all interest, enthusiasm, passion, for growth, change and redemption. They suffered so much, they were at the verge of despair. Even with the Ten Plagues and all the extraordinary miracles they observed, internally they were numb, and dry. To the extent, that as the Midrash puts it,[8] that the celestial angels wondered why the Jews were being saved when they were idol worshippers just like the Egyptians.
But, just as the tree, that was only on the outside. At the surface it seemed like the Jews were bare and naked. As “spring” arrived, as Passover came, their true green colors appeared: The people blossomed, and merely seven weeks after liberation, in a singular moment in history, G-d revealed Himself to them and gave them a Torah—a blueprint to create a nation under the direct sovereignty of G-d, and to change the world. Within a few weeks, everyone could realize the incredible transformation that has happened to this people during all those years in Egyptian exile. They may have seemed lifeless, but internally, they were not only alive; they were being transformed.
Jewish History
This is also true of Jewish history.
Rabbi Yisroel Altar (1895 – 1977), also known as the Beis Yisroel, was the fifth Rebbe of the Chasidic dynasty of Ger, a position he held from 1948 until 1977. He escaped from Poland during the Holocaust and settled in Israel during 1940. In 1945 he learnt that the Nazis had murdered his wife, daughter, son and grandchildren. He remarried but had no children.
One year after the Holocaust, the Gerer Rebbe was reciting the Passover Haggadah. He reached this strange passage in the Haggadah:
One may think that [the discussion of the exodus] must be from the first of the month. The Torah therefore says, `On that day.' `On that day,' however, could mean while it is yet daytime; the Torah therefore says, `It is because of this.' The expression `because of this' can only be said when matzah and maror are placed before you.
The Gerer Rebbe explained, that one might think that the Exodus of Egypt could be celebrated only during daytime, “mebeod yom,” when the sun casts its rays and life is bright, warm and filled with visible energy. No, says the Haggadah. We celebrate redemption even—and precisely—during “night time,” when “matzah and maror are placed before you,” when the food representing slavery and hardship are before you.
Because the springs of Jewish life are never divorced from the winters of our lives. We can only blossom in spring, because of the internalized work during the cold and harsh winters.
Warsaw, 1963
I heard the following story from Rabbi Israel Meir Lau, former chief Rabbi of Israel, at a Shabbaton in Los Angeles, one year ago, on Shabbat Parshat Shmini, 5777/2017.
It happened in Warsaw, in 1963. The city decided to commemorate the 30th anniversary since the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, in April 1943, during the holiday of Pesach. Warsaw was under the Communist Regime but they could not ignore the Jewish angle; so they brought from Israel Rabbi Yitzchak Yedeideh Frankl, chief rabbi of Tel Aviv (who was the father in law of Rabbi Lau, and Lau later replaced him as chief rabbi of Tel Aviv), who survived the Warsaw Ghetto, and Dr. Nachun Goldman, President of World Jewish Congress.
That Shabbos, Parshas Shmini, 1963, Rabbi Frankl went to pray at the Warsaw Synagogue. Only few Jews showed up. It was the dark years of Communism which almost completely eclipsed Jewish life in Warsaw the entire Soviet Union. All Jews who were present, including the guests, knew that there were always spies of the KGB present. So nobody uttered an extra word. It was depressing, sad and lonely. These synagogues lost their entire sap. A few old men would come and pray.
Rabbi Frankel was invited to give the Shabbos sermon. He spoke of the Warsaw he recalled from his youth, a city numbering some 500,000 Jews, with thousands of shuls, schools, institutions, and people of all stripes and colors, with incredible pious Jews, great scholars, leaders, Rebbes, and all types of other personalities. Today, he said, I look around the shul, and I barely see a minyan. Of the half-million-Jews of Warsaw, almost no one remains.
What happened to my Warsaw? he cried.
Rabbi Frankel quoted the powerful verse from that weekly portion, Shmini, when following the death of Nadav and Avihu, the new priests, the two sons of Aaron, Moses tells the bereaved father: “The entire house of Israel shall bewail the conflagration that the Lord has burned.”[9]
Rabbi Frankel burst into sobs. “The entire house of Israel shall bewail the conflagration that the Lord has burned.” Let’s all wail for Warsaw Jewry, for Polish Jewry, for East European Jewry!
The crowd wept. And then Rabbi Frankl announced: I see in the audience one Rabbi who remains yet from Pre-War Warsaw, Rabbi Aaron Kohen, who carries the name Aaron, just like our first High Priest Aaron. Come, Reb Aaron, come and say a few words. Help me mourn the fire that G-d has burnt.
Reb Aaron Kohen was a wise man. He approached the pulpit, and uttered no more than two words—also from the weekly portion. Following the death of the two sons of Aaron the Torah states: “Vayedom Aharon,” and Aaron remained silent.
Rabbi Frankel got the message. He was intimating that he must remain silent; he cannot speak his mind. The place is infested with spies; Reb Aaron Kohen, a local resident, must remain silent. Anything he might say can be used against him. He can be sent to the Gulag. Silence was the only option. “Aaron remained silent.”
This occurred, as we said, on April 1963.
Israel, 2017
Rabbi Israel Meir Lau, a son in law of Rabbi Yitzchak Frankel, burst into tears. And these were his words:
55 years have passed since Shabbos Shmini 1963 in Warsaw. Come with me to Jerusalem, and enter into the Beis Din HaGadol—the great Jewish court in the capital of Israel. Who resides at the head table? The new chief Rabbi of Israel, my son, Rabbi David Lau, a grandson of Rabbi Yitzchak Frankel.
Who sits right next to him? Another Rabbinic judge. His name? Rabbi David Cohen, a grandson of Rabbi Aaron Cohen from Warsaw.
In 1963, the two grandfathers—Rabbi Frankel and Rabbi Kohen—met in Warsaw. All they can do was wail and weep, for the decimation they saw. They can sob for the “fire that G-d has burnt.”
55 years later, their two grandchildren meet, on a daily basis. Where? In the eternal Jewish homeland, in Eretz Yisroel; inside the eternal Jewish capital, Jerusalem. They sit there together in order to study, explore, and decide on matters of Torah and Halacha, Jewish law, applying it to the lives of six million Jews who live in the Land of Israel.
Do you need to know anything else in order to appreciate Jewish history?
You see, Jerusalem in 2018 is not divorced from Warsaw in 1963, or Warsaw in 1943. These are not two disparate realities, just as winter and spring are not two divorced entities. When you look at the tree that seems so lifeless, look again and look deeper. It is far from dead. In many ways, it is more alive than it ever was. Its entire life-force is focused internally. The vitality is not gone; it is just not visible to the naked, superficial eye.
When you look at a period in your own life, or in Jewish life as a whole, and it seems lifeless, hopeless, morose, bleak, fruitless, and unpromising—look again! There is a life beneath the surface. And if you give it some time, and some sunlight and water, warmth and nourishment, if you give our people the passion (sunlight) and the Torah (water[10]), this tree will regenerate into a blossoming powerhouse. It will produce oxygen, flowers and fruits to vitalize, adorn and nourish our world.
The Ultimate Fantasy
Let me share with you a story.
Sasha and Luda were two young Russian Jews in Ukraine who accepted the request of Hillel in the Former Soviet Union to create a Seder in a small town in the northern part of the country, right after the Iran Curtain collapsed in 1989. They attended two week long seminars to prepare them, and they were “ready to roll”. Whatever they lacked in knowledge they made up in enthusiasm.
Luda had been to her first Seder the previous year. She was raised knowing that she was a Jew, but the term was essentially devoid of any significance. Other than a stamp on her internal passport, there was nothing that distinguished her from her neighbors.
Sasha had never been to a Seder. In fact, he was only told that he was a Jew when he was 19 years old. His parents were hesitant about identifying publicly as Jews, as they were still skeptical that the post-Soviet openness, then in its infancy, would be sustained. Somehow he became aware of his roots, became connected, and volunteered with Luda to run one of the communal Seders.
Four days before Seder night they came to the chosen town. It had an estimated 700 Jews. Sasha and Luda hoped to attract between 150-175 Jews to the Seder. Others told them they were overly optimistic, but they were undeterred. They came with some money to rent a hall and buy some Seder staples, and brought along about 150 haggadot in Hebrew and Russian. The first order of business was to rent space to accommodate a crowd.
In the center of the town there was a large building that was a local art school. It had a basement hall that was perfect for the Seder, along with tables and chairs. One of the school’s staff explained to them that the building was the local Communist Party headquarters just four years previous, hence it was outfitted so well. When the Soviet Union disbanded, the Rada, the Ukranian Parliament, outlawed the Communist Party. That accounted for the building’s transformation.
Sasha and Luda worked hard to prepare. They hung posters advertising the event and inviting local Jews. They taught some children Passover songs. They decorated the hall.
Seder night. Advertisements called for a 7 pm beginning. By 6:15, the 168 seats were taken. And people kept coming. And coming. By 7:00, there were more than 300 people squeezed into the hall, and disappointed people in the hallways throughout the building. (Fire “regulations” were related to in those days as advisory rather than compulsory).
The two Hillel students began the Seder, and barely stopped for air. During their explanations there was not a sound in the room. This was punctuated with boisterous singing, mostly without words which were anyway unfamiliar. Wine. Questions. Eggs. Saltwater. Matzah. Maror. All went off without a hitch.
After the modest meal, Sasha gave a short explanation of the fifth cup of wine, known as the Cup of Elijah. He explained how Elijah was to be the harbinger of the messianic era. He spoke of Jewish history as a linear concept always moving towards a better end, toward redemption, as opposed to the circular, repetitive concept of history of the Greeks.
When he finished there was a stirring in the back of the room. An older man stood up and pointed his finger at Sasha and began to speak to him in a very agitated way. Under other circumstances he would have been quieted by the others, but his jacket was full of medals. He was clearly a war hero, and therefore entitled to a modicum of respect despite his rude interruption.
Wagging his finger, he said to Sasha: ”Now you’ve lost us. You’ve simply gone too far. Until now, this whole evening brought back wonderful memories to me. I closed my eyes every few minutes and remembered the Seders of my childhood. My grandfather led it in Hebrew, and explained it all to us in Yiddish. I remember the melodies and the smells. It’s been almost 80 years, but it was like yesterday. And your explanations were wonderful. Slavery. Freedom. Asking questions; remembering the tears, celebrating our liberty. All wonderful. But what is this nonsense about a Messiah? And a ‘messianic’ era? You’ve gone too far. You can’t prove any of that. It’s all a bunch of nonsense. Made up. Fantasy. You lost me. And I bet you lost a lot of others here. Stick to history and Tradition. Leave the make believe out.”
Again, silence in the room. I would expect that most people felt sorry for these two young people who clearly had invested so much in making the evening memorable. In one moment, the positive feelings hung in the balance. This was a test. And a patently unfair one. Age and experience were working against Sasha and Luda—two very young Russian, ignorant Jews. As was the setting: All eyes were now fixed on them. There was a slight pause. And then Sasha spoke. Slowly and respectfully.
“You’re right. This business about the Messiah, and the messianic era, can’t be empirically proven. And yes, it does require faith, or at least imagination, to embrace it. But I want to ask you about another fantasy, another leap of faith. One that perhaps for you and me was even more farfetched than this one.
“Imagine that you and I had walked down this street together five years ago. We would have passed this building. It’s the most prominent building in town. And covering the façade of the top floor is a large stone circle, with a hammer and sickle at its center. You and I would have stopped to admire the building. And then I would have said to you: ‘I know this will be hard to believe- but five years from now, in the basement of this building, in this Communist Party Headquarters, our community will hold a public Seder. A Seder! It will be publicized so that everyone in town will know that it’s going to happen. And hundreds of Jews are going to come out. And two young Jews will lead the Seder. And Jewish children will sing. And families will learn together and experience Jewish Tradition. Not secretly and rushed. But proudly in a public place. And not any public place – in the building that represented our oppressors – the great and powerful Soviet Union.”
Sasha paused a moment to let it all sink in. And then he continued, still in a very respectful manner, looking straight at his challenger:
“Now I ask you: That scenario and the scenario about the messianic era—which strikes you as more outlandish and improbable?”
Absolute silence. The crowd burst out singing Am Yisrael Chai, a kind of anthem of the Soviet Jewry protest movement that speaks to the eternity of the Jewish People and the reality of our faith that very very soon Moshiach will enter the door and redeem our people and our world.
Because exile is no more than a long winter. And when all of our internal energy, vitality, holiness and purity will burst forth—the world will be healed.
The Original Letter of the Rebbe:
ב"ה, א' אייר, ה'תיש"א ברוקלין, נ. י.
הנו"נ אי"א עסקן חרוץ וכו' מו"ה מרדכי כהן שי'
שלום וברכה!
קבלתי הרצאתו על מצב החינוך במדינת טוניסיא ות"ח על זה. וינעם לי לשמוע מזמן לזמן מפעולותיהם הטובות בשדה חינוך בני ובנות ישראל שם.
על פי בקשתו, צויתי למשרד ה"מרכז לעניני חינוך" לשלוח חבילת ספרים על כתובת הרב במברון שליט"א, ובטח נתקבלו בסדר, ותאושר קבלתם.
ומענין חג הפסח שחגונו זה עתה וגם בקשר עם ימי האביב המ[מ]שמשים כעת ברוב הדר, הנה חג הפסח סימנו בכתוב שצריך להיות בחודש האביב. בטבע, עם הופעת האביב, הנה כחות הטבע שהיו בהעלם במשך ימי החורף, עד שלעין הרואה נדמה שנפסקה החיות יצירה צמיחה וגידול, הנה לפתע פתאום בחודש האביב מתגלה לעין כל שלא הי' זה אלא משך זמן של קיבוץ כחות למען יופיעו אח"כ אילנות מלבלבים ושדות עטופים ירק, כמרז"ל היוצא בימי ניסן ורואה אילנות שמוציאים פרח צריך לברך כו'.
ומוסר השכל בזה לכולנו, שאם יש בחיינו איזה תקופה שאפשר לטעות בה שאינה תקופה של יצירה צמיחה וגידול, קרוב לודאי שאין זה אלא טעות בידינו, וההפסק ישמש לתוספות כח, וכלשון המשל להוצאת פרח ולגמול פירות.
ויש למצוא רמז זה בענין דפסח, שאחרי התקופה המרה של גלות מצרים גלות הגוף וגלות הנשמה גם יחד, עד ששר מצרים טען מה נשתנו אלו מאלו כו', הנה במשך זמן מועט נתגלה בהם הזיכוך שפעל גלות מצרים, ובחמשים יום נתעלו ממ"ט שערי טומאה לקבלת התורה מפי הקב"ה בכבודו ובעצמו.
בברכת הצלחה בעבודתו לקרב בני ובנות ישראל לאבינו שבשמים.
[1] Exodus 23:15. Exodus 34:18
[2] Without this, Passover would fall backward each year, since the lunar year is 11-days shorter than the solar year. If your birthday is April 12, which coincides with 1 Nissan, your following Hebrew birthday, following the lunar cycle, will be 11 days earlier, on April 1, which will be 1 Nissan.
[3] Trees that lose their leaves every winter are called deciduous trees. Not all trees lose their leaves however. Evergreen trees keep their leaves all year long. Evergreen leaves usually called needles are small and tough; they won't be damaged by the cold winter weather and they won't cause the tree to lose water like bigger leaves do. Their roots are also deeper and manage to obtain water even in winter. Because of this, evergreen trees don't drop their needles in the fall and so can stay green all year round. This helps evergreens to survive in climates that are too cold for deciduous trees.
[4] Ch. 2
[5] The Baal Shem Tov employed a metaphor to convey this idea: the "spiral staircase." In Yiddish a spiral staircase is called "shvindel-trep."Shvindeltrep" means swindling steps. Steps that swindle. Why? Because when you climb a regular vertical staircase, you see yourself getting closer to the destination as you climb the stairs. A spiral staircase “swindles” you, because as you get closer to the destination you have to turn completely around, in a 180 degree turn, to the point where you cannot see the apex. As you climb you keep turning your back to the destination, and just before you reach the top, you must turn completely around for the last time. The key is to always remember, even when your eyes cannot see it and your heart cannot feel it, that we are on a climbing staircase, and we must continue to move. (See Sefer Hamaamarim 5565 p. 214. Or HaTorah Nach vol. 2 p. 884.)
[6] Ezekiel 16:7
[7] Zohar Chadah Yisro
[8] Zohar Terumah. Yalkut Reuveni Beshalach
[9] Leviticus 9:6
[10] See Bava Kama 17a
Categories
Pesach 5778
Rabbi YY Jacobson
- March 23, 2018
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- 7 Nisan 5778
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- 12 views
Winter to Spring: The Cycles of Nature, Humanity & History
Warsaw 1963—Jerusalem 2018
Rabbi YY Jacobson
- March 23, 2018
A Perfect Man
A Perfect Man
- wakes up at 5 am every day
- exercises every day
- makes his own bed
- cleans his room
- works sincerely
- does not touch alcohol
- helps in the kitchen
- does not indulge in nightlife
- is always punctual
- does not spend any time surfing the web
- prays daily
- reads
- hits the bed at 9 pm sharp.But where do you find such perfect men?
Answer: in jail.
The Flies
A woman walked into the kitchen to find her husband stalking a round with a fly swatter.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Hunting flies," He responded.
"Oh, killing any?" She asked.
"Yep, three males, two females," he replied.
Intrigued, she asked, how can you tell?
He responded, "Three were on a beer can, two were on the phone."
Awaking from Slumber
Three times, no less, does the Torah caution us to celebrate Passover only during the spring season.[1] Each time, the Torah employs the term “shamor,” guard. You need to guard and protect the date of Passover.
Here is the third one:
Keep the month of spring, and make the Passover offering to the Lord, your God, for in the month of spring, the Lord, your God, brought you out of Egypt at night.
ראה טז, א: שָׁמוֹר֙ אֶת־חֹ֣דֶשׁ הָֽאָבִ֔יב וְעָשִׂ֣יתָ פֶּ֔סַח לַֽיהֹוָ֖ה אֱלֹהֶ֑יךָ כִּ֞י בְּחֹ֣דֶשׁ הָֽאָבִ֗יב הוֹצִ֨יאֲךָ֜ יְהֹוָ֧ה אֱלֹהֶ֛יךָ מִמִּצְרַ֖יִם לָֽיְלָה:
This is no easy task, which is why the Torah must caution us to “guard” the date. Our months follow the lunar cycle, so naturally Passover would fall out at various seasons of the year (just like Ramadan, which can sometimes be in the summer, or winter, or spring or autumn, since the Muslim calendar is a lunar one.) We have to go to great lengths in order to “safeguard” our Passover holiday, to make sure it does “move” away to another season, and always coincides with spring. For this purpose, every 2-3 years we need to create a leap-year, add an extra month to our calendar, so that Passover falls out later in the year.[2]
Why was the Torah so adamant that we observe Passover during the spring season? The Torah explains this at three occasions. “For in the month of spring, G-d brought you out of Egypt.” Granted. But why is it important to celebrate Passover each year at the identical season when it occurred the first time? Would the matzah or horseradish taste so different if it was very hot or very cold outdoors?
In a letter sent to a Jewish educator and activist, Mordechai Cohen, who was involved with Jewish education in Tunisia, dated 1 Iyar 5711, May 7, 1951, the Lubavitcher Rebbe presented a moving explanation.
Winter
Winter. You go out to your yard, or you go on a nature walk, the trees stand there, bedecked with snow, ice, and cold. They appear lifeless. No growth, no vegetation, no green, no life. No fruits, flowers or leaves. The trunk and branches lay there bare, exposed and motionless.
It took humanity millennia to discover the extraordinary planning, mechanisms and brilliance the tree is employing during the winter season.
How Trees Survive
(Rabbis: I spelled out the details for those who are less familiar with the process; choose to present the details you feel appropriate.)
In the autumn when the weather cools, something amazing happens up in the trees. All the green leaves begin to change colors: yellow, red, orange, blue, and brown. Then, the tree sheds its leaves, and it remains bare till springtime. What makes the leaves change color and what makes them fall?
It is one of those incredible aspects of nature. Winter is a cold and difficult time for many organisms, including trees, and the trees must prepare themselves to survive. The tree has to “winterize” itself.
Since trees can’t uproot themselves and migrate south to warmer clients like certain animals, trees enter a dormant state similar to the hibernation of snakes, bees, skunks, bears and bats (to name a few).
This winterization process is a must for trees’ survival. Leaves are the food factory of the plant. Trees take in water through their roots and sunlight and carbon dioxide through their leaves. They use the energy from the sunlight to turn water and carbon dioxide into oxygen and glucose, a kind of sugar (the process of converting sunlight into energy we all know as photosynthesis.) The oxygen is released back into the atmosphere where it can be used by animals; the glucose (sugar) is used to feed the plant. The process of “photosynthesis” is possible because plants have a bright green chemical inside of them called “chlorophyll” which allows them to absorb the energy from sunlight. Chlorophyll is what makes leaves look so green.
As summer ends and fall begins, the days begin to grow shorter and the nights longer, meaning that less light is available, and here is not enough light or water for the leaves to make their food. (Even though it rains in the winter, the water freezes in the earth and the tree does not get enough of it to pass on to its leaves.)
It is much more energy efficient for trees to lose their leaves in winter. It is better for the tree to “shut down” over winter, lose their leaves and survive on their carbohydrate stores until spring comes around. (Plus, most trees have broad leaves that are susceptible to being damaged during cold or dry weather.)
So the trees begin to shut down their food factories. As unfavorable weather approaches, hormones in the trees trigger the process of abscission whereby the leaves are actively cut-off of the tree by specialized cells. At the start of the abscission process, trees reabsorb valuable nutrients from their leaves and store them for later use in their roots. Chlorophyll, the pigment that gives leaves their green color, is one of the first molecules to be broken down for its nutrients. (This is ONE of the reasons why trees turn red, orange, and gold colors during the fall. With the chlorophyll gone the green color fades and other colors become visible in the leaves.)
At the end of the abscission process, when the leaves have been shed, a protective layer of cells grows over the exposed area.[3]
In summation: During winter’s dormancy, a tree’s metabolism, energy consumption, and growth all slow down significantly in order to endure the harsh season of winter when water and sunlight are scarcer. Dormancy occurs in stages; it begins in the fall with the loss of leaves, so trees do not expend energy in keeping them alive during the winter. During the winter months, the rate of growth is brought nearly to a halt. The stored energy is utilized to maintain the tree’s health, instead of being used for growth. Without cell division and growth, or the task of keeping its leaves alive, trees are able to survive through winter by maintaining only the “essential systems” until the spring.
Spring Arrives
And then…
After a frigid winter of hibernation and deadness, the trees barren, and the leaves lifeless, the climate dreary and depressing, spring comes with a new song on its lips. Nature awakens from its slumber.
King Solomon described it in the Song of Songs,[4] which many read after the Seder:
For behold, the winter has passed; the rain is over and gone.
The blossoms have appeared in the land, the time of singing has arrived, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.
The fig tree has put forth its green figs, and the vines with their tiny grapes have given forth their fragrance; arise, my beloved, my fair one, and come away.
My dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the coverture of the steps, show me your appearance, let me hear your voice, for your voice is pleasant and your appearance is comely.
But is this divorced from the winter reality of the tree?
Absolutely not! The spring blossoming is a direct result of the incredible work the tree did during the harsh winter, conserving its energy and nutrients. What seemed like lifelessness was the furthest thing from it; it was really the conservation of life internally, allowing afterward for the outward blossoming.
When Your Life Looks Cold
The micro and the macro work in unison—the systems G-d invested in nature, reflect the internal systems of human life.
Sometimes you look at your own life, and it seems dull, numb, and lifeless. We look at certain periods of our lives, in the past or the present, and all we can observe is deadness, coldness, and dormancy. At such moments, we feel mechanical, passionless, and motionless. We go through the routines, perhaps, but we feel numb and frozen.
But this is a merely superficial reading of the human tree. When you look at the tree that seems so lifeless, look again and look deeper. It is far from dead. In many ways, it is more alive than it ever was. Its entire life-force is focused internally, but it’s not gone.
When you look at a particular period on your own life, and it seems hopeless, fruitless, and unpromising—look again! There is a simmering life beneath the surface. Maybe you can’t see it, but your internal tree experiences it. If you give it some time, and some sunlight and water, warmth and nourishment, it will come back to life.
What is more, our times of dormancy serve a vital purpose. At times, our minds and souls retreat into hibernation in order to conserve energy focus and vitality. It is essential to the process of nature. You can’t be bedecked with green leaves an entire time, producing fruits for nourishment, flowers for smell, nectar, and color, and oxygenating the planet. There are times in life, our internal clock sheds the leaves and retreats into its inner self. Don’t be afraid of such moments; they will allow you to regenerate with new gusto and oomph![5]
Education
This is especially true in the field of education—the essence of the Passover experience.
As our children, grandchildren, and students, grow, they vacillate between all seasons of G-d’s world. Yes, some people are “winters” and “summers,” but ALL people go through winter and summer. Often when we encounter the “winter season” in our child, we become despondent. We see no growth, vitality, or passion. But we may be mistaken. People go through stages. They are not always capable of operating on a maximum level. We sometimes retreat into hibernation.
At such moments, never give up on your tree. Be there for it. Cherish it, believe in it, and nurture it. It may not respond vivaciously, but everything you are giving it is being internalized. Sometimes even deeper now. You give your love, guidance, wisdom, and care. Show attentiveness, and presence of mind, heart and soul. The tree is conserving energy and can’t always smile back at you. Its sunlight is too scarce to squander it on a smile. Your teen-ager may have too little sunlight today to afford you the warm hug and accolades you so deeply crave for. Don’t worry. Don’t flee. Don’t get frustrated and annoyed. And heaven forbid, never sever his roots. Show up in the winter, as you do in the spring. Externals are deceiving. The tree is faking dead, only to survive. It is really alive and well. And then spring will come—and suddenly, as the sun appears, all the supposedly dead trees will burst into life.
From the Lowest to the Highest
We can now appreciate one of the reasons that the Torah instructs us to celebrate Passover during spring time—for it is this season and its botanical wonders that allow us to internalize the one of the holiday’s vital messages.
The prophet Ezekiel described the Jewish people before the Exodus in these words: “But you were naked and bare.”[6] Similarly to the tree in the winter: naked and bare.
When the Jews were in Egypt, the sages teach us, they were submerged in the “forty-nine gates” of impurity, to the point that if they would have remained there for longer, they could not be redeemed.[7] What this means is, they lost all interest, enthusiasm, passion, for growth, change and redemption. They suffered so much, they were at the verge of despair. Even with the Ten Plagues and all the extraordinary miracles they observed, internally they were numb, and dry. To the extent, that as the Midrash puts it,[8] that the celestial angels wondered why the Jews were being saved when they were idol worshippers just like the Egyptians.
But, just as the tree, that was only on the outside. At the surface it seemed like the Jews were bare and naked. As “spring” arrived, as Passover came, their true green colors appeared: The people blossomed, and merely seven weeks after liberation, in a singular moment in history, G-d revealed Himself to them and gave them a Torah—a blueprint to create a nation under the direct sovereignty of G-d, and to change the world. Within a few weeks, everyone could realize the incredible transformation that has happened to this people during all those years in Egyptian exile. They may have seemed lifeless, but internally, they were not only alive; they were being transformed.
Jewish History
This is also true of Jewish history.
Rabbi Yisroel Altar (1895 – 1977), also known as the Beis Yisroel, was the fifth Rebbe of the Chasidic dynasty of Ger, a position he held from 1948 until 1977. He escaped from Poland during the Holocaust and settled in Israel during 1940. In 1945 he learnt that the Nazis had murdered his wife, daughter, son and grandchildren. He remarried but had no children.
One year after the Holocaust, the Gerer Rebbe was reciting the Passover Haggadah. He reached this strange passage in the Haggadah:
One may think that [the discussion of the exodus] must be from the first of the month. The Torah therefore says, `On that day.' `On that day,' however, could mean while it is yet daytime; the Torah therefore says, `It is because of this.' The expression `because of this' can only be said when matzah and maror are placed before you.
The Gerer Rebbe explained, that one might think that the Exodus of Egypt could be celebrated only during daytime, “mebeod yom,” when the sun casts its rays and life is bright, warm and filled with visible energy. No, says the Haggadah. We celebrate redemption even—and precisely—during “night time,” when “matzah and maror are placed before you,” when the food representing slavery and hardship are before you.
Because the springs of Jewish life are never divorced from the winters of our lives. We can only blossom in spring, because of the internalized work during the cold and harsh winters.
Warsaw, 1963
I heard the following story from Rabbi Israel Meir Lau, former chief Rabbi of Israel, at a Shabbaton in Los Angeles, one year ago, on Shabbat Parshat Shmini, 5777/2017.
It happened in Warsaw, in 1963. The city decided to commemorate the 30th anniversary since the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, in April 1943, during the holiday of Pesach. Warsaw was under the Communist Regime but they could not ignore the Jewish angle; so they brought from Israel Rabbi Yitzchak Yedeideh Frankl, chief rabbi of Tel Aviv (who was the father in law of Rabbi Lau, and Lau later replaced him as chief rabbi of Tel Aviv), who survived the Warsaw Ghetto, and Dr. Nachun Goldman, President of World Jewish Congress.
That Shabbos, Parshas Shmini, 1963, Rabbi Frankl went to pray at the Warsaw Synagogue. Only few Jews showed up. It was the dark years of Communism which almost completely eclipsed Jewish life in Warsaw the entire Soviet Union. All Jews who were present, including the guests, knew that there were always spies of the KGB present. So nobody uttered an extra word. It was depressing, sad and lonely. These synagogues lost their entire sap. A few old men would come and pray.
Rabbi Frankel was invited to give the Shabbos sermon. He spoke of the Warsaw he recalled from his youth, a city numbering some 500,000 Jews, with thousands of shuls, schools, institutions, and people of all stripes and colors, with incredible pious Jews, great scholars, leaders, Rebbes, and all types of other personalities. Today, he said, I look around the shul, and I barely see a minyan. Of the half-million-Jews of Warsaw, almost no one remains.
What happened to my Warsaw? he cried.
Rabbi Frankel quoted the powerful verse from that weekly portion, Shmini, when following the death of Nadav and Avihu, the new priests, the two sons of Aaron, Moses tells the bereaved father: “The entire house of Israel shall bewail the conflagration that the Lord has burned.”[9]
Rabbi Frankel burst into sobs. “The entire house of Israel shall bewail the conflagration that the Lord has burned.” Let’s all wail for Warsaw Jewry, for Polish Jewry, for East European Jewry!
The crowd wept. And then Rabbi Frankl announced: I see in the audience one Rabbi who remains yet from Pre-War Warsaw, Rabbi Aaron Kohen, who carries the name Aaron, just like our first High Priest Aaron. Come, Reb Aaron, come and say a few words. Help me mourn the fire that G-d has burnt.
Reb Aaron Kohen was a wise man. He approached the pulpit, and uttered no more than two words—also from the weekly portion. Following the death of the two sons of Aaron the Torah states: “Vayedom Aharon,” and Aaron remained silent.
Rabbi Frankel got the message. He was intimating that he must remain silent; he cannot speak his mind. The place is infested with spies; Reb Aaron Kohen, a local resident, must remain silent. Anything he might say can be used against him. He can be sent to the Gulag. Silence was the only option. “Aaron remained silent.”
This occurred, as we said, on April 1963.
Israel, 2017
Rabbi Israel Meir Lau, a son in law of Rabbi Yitzchak Frankel, burst into tears. And these were his words:
55 years have passed since Shabbos Shmini 1963 in Warsaw. Come with me to Jerusalem, and enter into the Beis Din HaGadol—the great Jewish court in the capital of Israel. Who resides at the head table? The new chief Rabbi of Israel, my son, Rabbi David Lau, a grandson of Rabbi Yitzchak Frankel.
Who sits right next to him? Another Rabbinic judge. His name? Rabbi David Cohen, a grandson of Rabbi Aaron Cohen from Warsaw.
In 1963, the two grandfathers—Rabbi Frankel and Rabbi Kohen—met in Warsaw. All they can do was wail and weep, for the decimation they saw. They can sob for the “fire that G-d has burnt.”
55 years later, their two grandchildren meet, on a daily basis. Where? In the eternal Jewish homeland, in Eretz Yisroel; inside the eternal Jewish capital, Jerusalem. They sit there together in order to study, explore, and decide on matters of Torah and Halacha, Jewish law, applying it to the lives of six million Jews who live in the Land of Israel.
Do you need to know anything else in order to appreciate Jewish history?
You see, Jerusalem in 2018 is not divorced from Warsaw in 1963, or Warsaw in 1943. These are not two disparate realities, just as winter and spring are not two divorced entities. When you look at the tree that seems so lifeless, look again and look deeper. It is far from dead. In many ways, it is more alive than it ever was. Its entire life-force is focused internally. The vitality is not gone; it is just not visible to the naked, superficial eye.
When you look at a period in your own life, or in Jewish life as a whole, and it seems lifeless, hopeless, morose, bleak, fruitless, and unpromising—look again! There is a life beneath the surface. And if you give it some time, and some sunlight and water, warmth and nourishment, if you give our people the passion (sunlight) and the Torah (water[10]), this tree will regenerate into a blossoming powerhouse. It will produce oxygen, flowers and fruits to vitalize, adorn and nourish our world.
The Ultimate Fantasy
Let me share with you a story.
Sasha and Luda were two young Russian Jews in Ukraine who accepted the request of Hillel in the Former Soviet Union to create a Seder in a small town in the northern part of the country, right after the Iran Curtain collapsed in 1989. They attended two week long seminars to prepare them, and they were “ready to roll”. Whatever they lacked in knowledge they made up in enthusiasm.
Luda had been to her first Seder the previous year. She was raised knowing that she was a Jew, but the term was essentially devoid of any significance. Other than a stamp on her internal passport, there was nothing that distinguished her from her neighbors.
Sasha had never been to a Seder. In fact, he was only told that he was a Jew when he was 19 years old. His parents were hesitant about identifying publicly as Jews, as they were still skeptical that the post-Soviet openness, then in its infancy, would be sustained. Somehow he became aware of his roots, became connected, and volunteered with Luda to run one of the communal Seders.
Four days before Seder night they came to the chosen town. It had an estimated 700 Jews. Sasha and Luda hoped to attract between 150-175 Jews to the Seder. Others told them they were overly optimistic, but they were undeterred. They came with some money to rent a hall and buy some Seder staples, and brought along about 150 haggadot in Hebrew and Russian. The first order of business was to rent space to accommodate a crowd.
In the center of the town there was a large building that was a local art school. It had a basement hall that was perfect for the Seder, along with tables and chairs. One of the school’s staff explained to them that the building was the local Communist Party headquarters just four years previous, hence it was outfitted so well. When the Soviet Union disbanded, the Rada, the Ukranian Parliament, outlawed the Communist Party. That accounted for the building’s transformation.
Sasha and Luda worked hard to prepare. They hung posters advertising the event and inviting local Jews. They taught some children Passover songs. They decorated the hall.
Seder night. Advertisements called for a 7 pm beginning. By 6:15, the 168 seats were taken. And people kept coming. And coming. By 7:00, there were more than 300 people squeezed into the hall, and disappointed people in the hallways throughout the building. (Fire “regulations” were related to in those days as advisory rather than compulsory).
The two Hillel students began the Seder, and barely stopped for air. During their explanations there was not a sound in the room. This was punctuated with boisterous singing, mostly without words which were anyway unfamiliar. Wine. Questions. Eggs. Saltwater. Matzah. Maror. All went off without a hitch.
After the modest meal, Sasha gave a short explanation of the fifth cup of wine, known as the Cup of Elijah. He explained how Elijah was to be the harbinger of the messianic era. He spoke of Jewish history as a linear concept always moving towards a better end, toward redemption, as opposed to the circular, repetitive concept of history of the Greeks.
When he finished there was a stirring in the back of the room. An older man stood up and pointed his finger at Sasha and began to speak to him in a very agitated way. Under other circumstances he would have been quieted by the others, but his jacket was full of medals. He was clearly a war hero, and therefore entitled to a modicum of respect despite his rude interruption.
Wagging his finger, he said to Sasha: ”Now you’ve lost us. You’ve simply gone too far. Until now, this whole evening brought back wonderful memories to me. I closed my eyes every few minutes and remembered the Seders of my childhood. My grandfather led it in Hebrew, and explained it all to us in Yiddish. I remember the melodies and the smells. It’s been almost 80 years, but it was like yesterday. And your explanations were wonderful. Slavery. Freedom. Asking questions; remembering the tears, celebrating our liberty. All wonderful. But what is this nonsense about a Messiah? And a ‘messianic’ era? You’ve gone too far. You can’t prove any of that. It’s all a bunch of nonsense. Made up. Fantasy. You lost me. And I bet you lost a lot of others here. Stick to history and Tradition. Leave the make believe out.”
Again, silence in the room. I would expect that most people felt sorry for these two young people who clearly had invested so much in making the evening memorable. In one moment, the positive feelings hung in the balance. This was a test. And a patently unfair one. Age and experience were working against Sasha and Luda—two very young Russian, ignorant Jews. As was the setting: All eyes were now fixed on them. There was a slight pause. And then Sasha spoke. Slowly and respectfully.
“You’re right. This business about the Messiah, and the messianic era, can’t be empirically proven. And yes, it does require faith, or at least imagination, to embrace it. But I want to ask you about another fantasy, another leap of faith. One that perhaps for you and me was even more farfetched than this one.
“Imagine that you and I had walked down this street together five years ago. We would have passed this building. It’s the most prominent building in town. And covering the façade of the top floor is a large stone circle, with a hammer and sickle at its center. You and I would have stopped to admire the building. And then I would have said to you: ‘I know this will be hard to believe- but five years from now, in the basement of this building, in this Communist Party Headquarters, our community will hold a public Seder. A Seder! It will be publicized so that everyone in town will know that it’s going to happen. And hundreds of Jews are going to come out. And two young Jews will lead the Seder. And Jewish children will sing. And families will learn together and experience Jewish Tradition. Not secretly and rushed. But proudly in a public place. And not any public place – in the building that represented our oppressors – the great and powerful Soviet Union.”
Sasha paused a moment to let it all sink in. And then he continued, still in a very respectful manner, looking straight at his challenger:
“Now I ask you: That scenario and the scenario about the messianic era—which strikes you as more outlandish and improbable?”
Absolute silence. The crowd burst out singing Am Yisrael Chai, a kind of anthem of the Soviet Jewry protest movement that speaks to the eternity of the Jewish People and the reality of our faith that very very soon Moshiach will enter the door and redeem our people and our world.
Because exile is no more than a long winter. And when all of our internal energy, vitality, holiness and purity will burst forth—the world will be healed.
The Original Letter of the Rebbe:
ב"ה, א' אייר, ה'תיש"א ברוקלין, נ. י.
הנו"נ אי"א עסקן חרוץ וכו' מו"ה מרדכי כהן שי'
שלום וברכה!
קבלתי הרצאתו על מצב החינוך במדינת טוניסיא ות"ח על זה. וינעם לי לשמוע מזמן לזמן מפעולותיהם הטובות בשדה חינוך בני ובנות ישראל שם.
על פי בקשתו, צויתי למשרד ה"מרכז לעניני חינוך" לשלוח חבילת ספרים על כתובת הרב במברון שליט"א, ובטח נתקבלו בסדר, ותאושר קבלתם.
ומענין חג הפסח שחגונו זה עתה וגם בקשר עם ימי האביב המ[מ]שמשים כעת ברוב הדר, הנה חג הפסח סימנו בכתוב שצריך להיות בחודש האביב. בטבע, עם הופעת האביב, הנה כחות הטבע שהיו בהעלם במשך ימי החורף, עד שלעין הרואה נדמה שנפסקה החיות יצירה צמיחה וגידול, הנה לפתע פתאום בחודש האביב מתגלה לעין כל שלא הי' זה אלא משך זמן של קיבוץ כחות למען יופיעו אח"כ אילנות מלבלבים ושדות עטופים ירק, כמרז"ל היוצא בימי ניסן ורואה אילנות שמוציאים פרח צריך לברך כו'.
ומוסר השכל בזה לכולנו, שאם יש בחיינו איזה תקופה שאפשר לטעות בה שאינה תקופה של יצירה צמיחה וגידול, קרוב לודאי שאין זה אלא טעות בידינו, וההפסק ישמש לתוספות כח, וכלשון המשל להוצאת פרח ולגמול פירות.
ויש למצוא רמז זה בענין דפסח, שאחרי התקופה המרה של גלות מצרים גלות הגוף וגלות הנשמה גם יחד, עד ששר מצרים טען מה נשתנו אלו מאלו כו', הנה במשך זמן מועט נתגלה בהם הזיכוך שפעל גלות מצרים, ובחמשים יום נתעלו ממ"ט שערי טומאה לקבלת התורה מפי הקב"ה בכבודו ובעצמו.
בברכת הצלחה בעבודתו לקרב בני ובנות ישראל לאבינו שבשמים.
[1] Exodus 23:15. Exodus 34:18
[2] Without this, Passover would fall backward each year, since the lunar year is 11-days shorter than the solar year. If your birthday is April 12, which coincides with 1 Nissan, your following Hebrew birthday, following the lunar cycle, will be 11 days earlier, on April 1, which will be 1 Nissan.
[3] Trees that lose their leaves every winter are called deciduous trees. Not all trees lose their leaves however. Evergreen trees keep their leaves all year long. Evergreen leaves usually called needles are small and tough; they won't be damaged by the cold winter weather and they won't cause the tree to lose water like bigger leaves do. Their roots are also deeper and manage to obtain water even in winter. Because of this, evergreen trees don't drop their needles in the fall and so can stay green all year round. This helps evergreens to survive in climates that are too cold for deciduous trees.
[4] Ch. 2
[5] The Baal Shem Tov employed a metaphor to convey this idea: the "spiral staircase." In Yiddish a spiral staircase is called "shvindel-trep."Shvindeltrep" means swindling steps. Steps that swindle. Why? Because when you climb a regular vertical staircase, you see yourself getting closer to the destination as you climb the stairs. A spiral staircase “swindles” you, because as you get closer to the destination you have to turn completely around, in a 180 degree turn, to the point where you cannot see the apex. As you climb you keep turning your back to the destination, and just before you reach the top, you must turn completely around for the last time. The key is to always remember, even when your eyes cannot see it and your heart cannot feel it, that we are on a climbing staircase, and we must continue to move. (See Sefer Hamaamarim 5565 p. 214. Or HaTorah Nach vol. 2 p. 884.)
[6] Ezekiel 16:7
[7] Zohar Chadah Yisro
[8] Zohar Terumah. Yalkut Reuveni Beshalach
[9] Leviticus 9:6
[10] See Bava Kama 17a
- Comment
Class Summary:
Why was the Torah so adamant that we observe Passover during the spring season? The Torah explains this at three occasions. “For in the month of spring, G-d brought you out of Egypt.” Granted. But why is it important to celebrate Passover each year at the identical season when it occurred the first time? Would the matzah or horseradish taste so different if it was very hot or very cold outdoors?
In a letter sent to a Jewish educator and activist, Mordechai Cohen, who was involved with Jewish education in Tunisia, on May 7, 1951, the Lubavitcher Rebbe presented a moving explanation.
Winter. You go out to your yard, or you go on a nature walk, the trees stand there, bedecked with snow, ice, and cold. They appear lifeless. No growth, no vegetation, no green, no life. No fruits, flowers or leaves. The trunk and branches lay there bare, exposed and motionless.
It took humanity millennia to discover the extraordinary planning, mechanisms and brilliance the tree is employing during the winter season allowing it to survive and thrive.
Warsaw, 1963. The city decided to commemorate the 30th anniversary since the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, in April 1943, during the holiday of Pesach. Warsaw was under the Communist Regime but they could not ignore the Jewish angle; so they brought from Israel Rabbi Yitzchak Yedeideh Frankl, chief rabbi of Tel Aviv. While in Warsaw he met another local Rabbi, Aaron Kohen. On Shabbos, they both wept, bemoaning the fate of Warsaw Jewry. From a city of 500,000 Jews, there was barely a minyan…
But 55 years later, in Jerusalem, something happened. And it captures the individual and collective story of our people—from winter to spring.
What was the teaching the Gerer Rebbe presented during Pesach one year after the Holocaust? What did the two Russian youngsters answer the cynic when he could not believe that Moshiach will ever come.
Sometimes you look at your own life, and it seems dull, numb, and lifeless. We look at certain periods of our lives, in the past or the present, and all we can observe is deadness, coldness, and dormancy. At such moments, we feel mechanical, passionless, and motionless. We go through the routines, perhaps, but we feel numb and frozen. But, as Pesach in the spring season teaches us, this is a merely superficial reading of the human tree.
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