“Come together, right now, over me” – John Lennon.
“Unity”: One year on from the October 7 massacre, it surely ranks – along with “war” – as the essential buzzword of this ongoing crisis. In every forum – from media talk shows to everyday conversation – “unity” is on the lips of the nation. Along with the enemy at our doorstep, it is at the same time both the bane and the salvation of our existence, encapsulating the very best and worst that Israeli society has to offer.
On the one hand, unity – or rather, the lack of it, disunity – is tearing the country apart. We are sharply divided as to whether the current coalition should be leading the government, and we protest and agitate over it with no respite. Half the populace, it would appear, adamantly considers bringing the hostages home to be our first priority, while the other half is equally insistent that the war effort takes precedence. We are at separate poles on the need to forcibly require haredi young men to join the army; the scenes at IDF induction centers are gut-wrenching and deplorable.
On the other hand, the unity we have seen over the past year is our saving grace, a bright light that breaks through the clouds of gloom and desperation. Scenes of thousands of volunteers coming forward to engage in countless acts of kindness, the mass prayers on behalf of our soldiers, the combined efforts of both secular and religious to soothe the wounded and comfort the bereaved are sources of great pride that make us proud of how lovingly we embrace our brothers and sisters. And now, of course, after our stunning strikes against Hezbollah, there is an added spirit of togetherness centered around our heroic armed forces and intelligence network.
IT IS precisely at this one-year anniversary that the holiday of Simchat Torah comes along, with its unique message about the centrality of unity.
Simchat Torah and the centrality of unity
Sukkot – to which Simchat Torah is attached – is all about finding commonality among all segments of the population. For one thing, we come out of our permanent houses and, at least for a bit of time, gather in small and modest huts. This allows every person to be more or less on a par with everyone else. Whether you reside in a cramped apartment or live in an expansive villa, for seven days you will crowd into small spaces and deal with leaves in your soup. The sukkah is the great equalizer that cuts through social and economic divisions.
The other primary ritual of the festival, of course, is the taking of the Arba Minim, or Four Species: lulav (palm branch), etrog (citron), hadassim (myrtle), and aravot (willow). Though these items can be pricey – some etrogim go for hundreds, even thousands of dollars – in the Israeli market, sets are eminently affordable, and so they are ubiquitous. The rabbis comment that the various parts of the Arba Minim represent Jews of differing virtues and accomplishments. Some are learned, yet relatively uninvolved in communal affairs; others are less academic, yet constantly engaged in good works. In order for the mitzvah of Arba Minim to be effective, all the various parts – the lulav, etrog, hadas, and arava – must be held together as one. Without this unity, no blessing can be made.
Then, on the eighth day (the ninth outside of Israel), Simchat Torah makes its entrance. On this day, we put away our lulav and etrog and we exit the sukkah. Now, we concentrate on glorifying the Torah. We conclude the yearlong reading of the Torah and then immediately start that reading again – creating a continuous “rolling of the scroll” from one year to the next, from one generation to another. Everyone receives an honor, including all the children, who gather beneath a giant tallit for their communal blessing.
The day is also characterized by hakafot, dancing in circles. We did this as well during Sukkot, when we carried the Arba Minim and encircled the center bima in a ceremony called hoshanot. Now, the Torah scroll will be at center point, ensuring that no one is any closer to it than anyone else. This sends the clear message that every person has an equal share of the Torah and its mitzvot, affirming that God cares for and accepts everyone, regardless of his or her particular situation or station in life.
Now, the fact that we have an eighth day of the holiday at all is in itself unusual; a seven-day week is the norm. The rabbis explain this unusual phenomenon with a parable. There once was a king who threw a lavish, weeklong party for his closest friends, regaling them with food, drink, and song. When the week was over, the king – who was overjoyed by the festivities – was reluctant to end it, and so he appealed to the crowd to stay on for one more day. “Kasheh alai preidatchem” – your parting is so difficult for me – he said, and so he convinced the assembled to keep the party going. On Simchat Torah, as Sukkot comes to an end, God says to the Jewish people: “We have so enjoyed this week together, let’s hold off – atzeret – and stay together just a little bit longer.”
But the rabbis put a beautiful, added spin on the phrase “Kasheh alai preidatchem.” Literally, it can mean “your division from one another is hard for Me.” Says God: “For the entire week, the nation has been united, dancing together, praying together as one. How beautiful it has been seeing you form a universal circle, where everyone is equidistant from My Torah, holding hands with his or her neighbor, as you celebrate our glorious heritage. It pains Me to think that this will all now come to an end. Please, please, keep it going – even after you go your separate ways back to your own homes.”
LIKE THE weather, everyone talks about unity but few do anything about it. This past year – and the past few weeks in particular – have shown us, in historic fashion, what a unique and amazing people we are and what a special country we share.
That, rather than the various issues that divide us, should be our rallying focal point. Holding fast to it will truly put the simcha into Simchat Torah, and the rest of the year as well.