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V'samachta B'chagecha- October 2000 by Rabbi Samuel M. Cohon The most joyous day of the Jewish Fall Festival marathon is clearly Simchat Torah. Coming at the end of the delightful al fresco fun of Sukkot, it culminates a season of celebration with full-on festivity. And unlike Rosh Hashana and Sukkot, there are no serious themes of Repentance or Thanksgiving to mar the pleasure. It's just a good time for all. The most memorable Simchat Torah I ever spent was in Jerusalem 9 years ago. It ended about 2 AM on the streets of Mea She'arim, the ultra-Orthodox quarter, with-but I am getting ahead of myself. Let's begin at the beginning. In my pre-Israel experiences Simchat Torah was an excuse for a good party. I had many great Simchat Torah evenings of singing and dancing and-let's be honest-having a drink or two to celebrate the joy of Torah. Each hakafah, every circuit of the sanctuary became an excuse for more singing, wilder dancing, and greater revelry. And after I became a cantor there was the added relief of knowing that the intense work of the High Holidays was past, and that our souls had already been judged. So why not party? Now on this particular night I went with several friends from rabbinic school looking for appropriate revelry of which to partake. The services at HUC Jerusalem had been predictably tame, and we wanted something more. Naively thinking Israelis felt the same way about Simchat Torah that Americans did, we walked to the Old City's Jewish Quarter, but found the various Orthodox services much more docile-not to mention more sober-than we had hoped. What to do next? Then someone came up with the brilliant idea of going to Mea She'arim, where many ultra- Orthodox Chasidim reside. If the Chasidim weren't throwing a good party for Simchat Torah, there simply wasn't one to be found. They weren't. As we wandered the darkened streets of the area, we saw a few frock-coated Chasidim hurrying home from services. And although it wasn't particularly late, no one seemed especially interested in joining us for a little singing, dancing, and simcha. Not to be daunted, we took matters into our own hands, feet and voices. Improvising a Torah-less circle in the empty central intersection, we began to dance, singing non-stop Chasidic Torah songs with energy and ru'ach. We were having such a good time, a few passing Chasidim actually joined us, even complimenting our voices and joining us for a lechayim. And then things got a little weird. Well, more than a little weird. A group of Chasidic children came skipping along, cute in their black and white outfits, the boys with long payess. They stopped suddenly, and all began to stare at me. We tried to get the kids to join us in the circle dancing and the Torah singing, but they stood just out of range and stared at me wide-eyed. I began to feel a little self-conscious. Now, I am not proud to admit it, but at that point, for the only time in my life, my long hair hung down to my shoulders. Perhaps the hair had something to do with it, but for reasons still not entirely clear to me a couple of the kids starting pointing at me and crying "Mashiach! Mashiach!" In rapid-fire Hebrew they told us that they thought I was the Messiah. I've been accused of many things over the years (humility not prominent among them), but this was a little much. After trying in vain to convince them that I really wasn't the mashiach-my friends were very ardent in their efforts-we finally just decided to sing and dance some more Torah songs. We were even louder than before. And this time the Mea She'arim quarter was much more responsive. For from the second and third floors of the neighboring buildings round yellow objects began to hurtle down. First one, and then many. And as they plopped onto the streets around us, it became clear that we were being pelted with left-over etrogim, etrogs, citrons from the just-past Sukkot holiday. Perhaps they simply wanted us to shut up. Or perhaps they were wishing us a fruitful new year Now, I can't promise that our Simchat Torah Celebration and Consecration Service on Saturday night, October 21st at 6:30 PM, will be quite as memorable as that night long ago. But I can promise that we will say goodbye to the holiday season with great verve and lots of style. And who knows? Clearly, we Reform Jews know. From the October 2000 Temple Times |
