The Shofar

In the beginning G-d created the heavens and the earth (Genesis 1:1)

Midrash Rabbah explains: The Torah says: “I was the tool of G-d’s artistry.” An architect who builds a palace does not do so on his own; he has scrolls and notebooks which he consults regarding how to place the rooms, where to set the doors. So it was with G-d: He looked into the Torah and created the world.

Just as Hashem used the Torah to create the world, we use the Torah to sustain it!

Reading Breishit, I was momentarily perplexed by a particular pasuk (talking about the sun, moon, and stars):

“ולמשל ביום ובלילה ולהבדיל בין האור ובין החשך וירא אלקים כי טוב.”

–בראשית, פרק א’, פסוק י’ח

“And to rule by day and by night and to differentiate between the light and the darkness; and God saw that it was good.”

What confused me was the contrast of this pasuk with pasuk 4 in the same perek:

“וירא אלקים את האור כי טוב ויבדל אלקים בין האור ובין החשך.”

“And God saw the light, that it was good; and God differentiated between the light and the darkness.”

How could the sun, moon, and stars be differentiating between light and darkness on Day Four when light and darkness had already been separated on Day One? Furthermore, how could the sun, moon, and stars– sources of light– be separating light and darkness? Where does darkness come into the picture?

All these questions were the work of a moment; an instant later I had an epiphany, answering my questions and shedding light, if you will excuse the pun, on many related and seemingly unrelated matters.

On the first day, God had separated light from darkness– absolute light and absolute darkness. But on the fourth day– the day before he created living creatures– he made the heavenly bodies, to temper the absolutes. The sun (the “great light-source”) reigns by day, while the moon (the “small light-source”) reigns by night. How is it that separating sun and moon separates light and darkness? The sun gives a great light, by which we can easily see and conduct our daily activities. Moonlight, on the other hand is dim (being only, as we now know, a reflection of the sunlight), and barely enables us, at times, to make out silhouettes and shadows.

But if it weren’t for the dim light of the moon and stars (and excluding the possibility of secondary lighting, such as candles, electricity, bioluminescence, etc.), we would be left in utter, absolute darkness– a darkness so dark that the term “dark” becomes meaningless; we might as well have our eyes closed. In fact, without the moon and stars, it would be so dark that we would not know that it was dark at all.

Just as it has been said that we need bad in the world to appreciate the good, we need light in order to see the darkness.

As we embark on a new year — a new cycle of the Torah– it is worthwhile to remember that no matter how miserable a situation, our very awareness of misery is proof of the presence of “light”; it is only when we do not even know of our own suffering that life is truly bleak.

A pasuk in Parshat Bereishit states, “And Hashem made two luminaries: The great luminary (haMaor haGadol) to rule in the day, and the minor luminary (haMaor haKatan) to rule at night, and the stars” (Bereishit 1:16). Rashi quotes Chazal and explains that originally the sun and moon were created equal. However, the moon came to Hashem with the complaint that two Kings can not possibly share one single crown. Hashem then commanded the moon to minimize itself, and then there was a profound difference between the sun and the moon. As a result, according to Chazal, the sun is much larger than the moon.

What is most distinct about these two “Great Luminaries” is that the sun generates its own light, while the moon is only a reflection of light of the sun.

Rav Yosef Soloveitchik suggests that this pasuk in Bereishit provides us with the Torah’s definition of the words “Gadol” and “Katan.”

The sun is called a Gadol because it is able to generate its own light. The moon is called Katan because it does not generate its own light. We express this very idea in a prayer at every Brit Milah. “This is the Katan, he will become a Gadol” – Zeh HaKatan Gadol Yehei. When a child is raised, he reflects the light generated by those who brought him into the world and raised him. But the blessing is that the child should take this light and generate his own power of illumination.

The source in which Rashi quotes Chazal is in Massechet Chulin 60b, which expresses an idea that can be seen as very contradictory. Said Hashem (to the moon): The righteous shall be called by your name. Yaakov the Katan. Shmuel the Katan. David the Katan. According to the Rav’s explanation, Yaakov, Shmuel HaNavi, and David HaMelech, by being Katan, only ever expressed “reflected” light and not their own. And not only does this verse refer to just them, but also all of the righteous, by which we could conclude that even Moshe Rabbeinu was a Katan.

When the Gemara refers to these great leaders of Klal Israel as Katan, it really means that the righteous who carry the world on their shoulders are those who who see themselves as nothing. Those who see themselves as merely a reflection of others. Moshe, the man who was chosen to receive the Torah, told Hashem that he was not good enough. King Saul hid when he was chosen as Israel’s first king. And King David, at the height of his glory, would sing songs about his worthlessness.

What is amazing about this is that Moshe, in the end of Parshat V’Zot HaBrachah, is referred to as a Moreh Gadol, but according to Chazal, shall always been known as a Katan. Why? Because every single Gadol HaDor, from Moshe Rabbeinu to Rabban Gamliel to the Rambam and the Chofetz Chaim, became a gadol, became great, by essentially being nothing. By having such a deep humbleness. Their own light is really the light of a Katan. A reflection of those who brought them up and made them a Gadol. A reflection of their parents, of their teachers, of their students, and of all of Klal Israel, making them fitting to be our leaders.

Parshat Bereishit, the Parsha of beginnings, teaches us that those who are truly great become so by being nothing.

Parshat Bereishit begins with Hashem’s creation of the world in 6 days, and the creation of Shabbat, a day of rest, on the 7th. Hashem forms Man from the dust of the earth, and forms Woman from his rib. Adam and Chava are then placed into the Garden of Eden and commanded not to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. However, a serpent persuades Chava to violate this commandment and she shares the fruit with Adam. Because of their sin, Hashem decided that man will be mortal and all which they gain will not come as easily as in the Graden, but by struggle and hardship. Chava gives birth to Cain and Hevel. In a quarrel, Cain kills Hevel. A third son is born to Adam, Shet, the ancestor of Noach.

In the Haftarah for Parshat V’Zot Ha’Bracha, we begin the book of Yehoshua. This Haftarah deals with the shift of the leadership role from Moshe to Yehoshua, and we see many interesting contrasts between their rises to power, their purposes of leading, and their leadership styles.

We will first go back to the book of Shmot, in which Moshe was a shepherd watching over the herd of Yitro, his father-in-law. When he took the sheep to graze in a place known as Chorev, “Hineh HaSneh Boer BaEsh V’Hasneh Eineneu Ukal.” “Behold, the bush was burning in fire, and the bush was not consumed.” The first time G-d spoke to Yehoshua came following the thirty-day mourning period observed upon Moshe’s death. There is a true difference underlying the two rises to power. In Moshe’s case, it seems as though he needs to chase G-d and witness paranormal signs, whereas with Yehoshua, it seems like G-d simply tells him to lead his people.

Throughout Moshe’s stint as leader of the Jewish people, he struggled to train this nation of sinners to become a G-d fearing people. When Moshe was on Har Sinai, the Children of Israel were concerned of what has happened to this “superhero”. “Ki Zeh Moshe HaIsh Asher HeElanu MaEretz Mitzraim Lo Yadanu Meh Haya Lo”- “For this, the man Moshe, who brought us up from the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him,” they said. These words tell us that the Children of Israel believed that Moshe brought them up from the Land of Egypt and that he had been the one to save them from all their troubles in the wilderness. Obviously, they had not yet attained a belief in G-d. Moshe struggled to teach them just that throughout the forty years in the desert. We witness just the opposite when Yehoshua comes into power. When he addresses the tribes of Reuven, Gad, and the half-tribe of Menasheh, they gladly hearken to the voice of this new leader and acknowledge that G-d has sent him. “Kol Asher Tzivitanu Naaseh V’El Kol Asher T’Shalchenu Nelech”- “Anything you say we will do and to anywhere you send us we will go.”

Finally, let’s take a look at the different jobs that Moshe and Yehoshua were faced to complete as leaders of the Jewish people and what their attitudes toward leadership were. Moshe had much to accomplish during his relatively short time as leader. In Chapter 24 of the book of Yehoshua we read, “B’Ever Hanahar Yashvu Avotechem MaOlam Terach Avi Avraham V’Avi Nachor Vayaavdu Elohim Acherim”- “Your forefathers dwelt beyond the river– Terach, the father of Abraham and Nachor– and they served other gods.” Moshe had a massive job in front of him when the responsibility of leading the Jewish people was thrust upon him. To take this nation of idol worshippers and make them “Kadosh” was the main mission of Moshe Rabbeinu, and he succeeded in many aspects. By the time Yehoshua became leader, the Jewish people knew the right way to behave and how to express their utmost faith in G-d. It is for this reason that Yehoshua was allowed to take a more laid-back approach to leadership and to strengthen, rather than scold, the Children of Israel. In the time of Yehoshua, Bnei Yisrael announced, “Gam Anachnu Naavod Et HaShem Ki Hu Elokenu”- “We, too, will worship the Lord, for he is our G-d.”

We see that through their opposite approaches to leadership, Moshe and Yehoshua were able to create a common feeling among the children Israel that Hashem is their G-d. As we finish reading the Torah and begin the cycle once again, the opportunity to reflect upon these two great leaders of our people provides us with the inspiration to say that no matter what challenges we may face in the coming year, “Gam Anachnu Naavod Et Hashem Ki Hu Elokenu.”

Coming after Succot, a holiday of lulavs and etrogs and camping out in our backyards, the date of Simchat Torah seems unrelated, even arbitrary. Why do we celebrate Simchat Torah? We finish and re-start reading the Torah—but what’s the big deal? Why do we have this festival?

One could answer, if we hold a siyum after finishing a book of the Torah or a massechta of Gemara—a party celebrating our studies—all the more so, kal vechomer, that we have a festival when we finish reading the whole Torah.

This answer, however, is not valid, because it misses the very premise of the question. The question isn’t asking why celebrate it at all, but rather, why celebrate it then.

One could answer, Simchat Torah is celebrated when it is because it is within a week of that date that one cycle of Shabbat parsha readings ends and another begins.

This answer is even more foolish than the first, however; it, too, is blind to the meaning of the question. If we never doubled up parshiot (as we often do with parshiot such as Tazria-Metzora and Behar-Bechukotai, reading two parshiot in one week), or if we doubled them up more often, or if we divided the parshiot differently, or if we even started sometime else, we would finish the Torah readings at a completely different time of year!

Why, then, Simchat Torah, on the 22^nd (or 23^rd outside of Israel) of the seventh month? Why now, of all times?

The Torah commands us at the end of the seventh year, the year of shmita, on the holiday of Succot, when all the Jewish people are gathered at Beit Hamikdash, to read the Torah out to everyone.

This is an important commandment, and it says a lot about Judaism. We are not a religion which gives the power of religious knowledge to the clergy; rather, every citizen should know our laws. However, it is difficult for a simple farmer to set aside the time to learn to read and to sit down and read the Torah. God’s solution to this is that once every seven years, we are guaranteed the opportunity to hear the Torah for ourselves.

Nowadays, however, this is much more problematic. Although selections of the Torah were read in Jerusalem on the Succot following the shmita year, much is not the same. First of all, in the absence of Beit Hamikdash, precious few Jews make the pilgrimage to Jerusalem three times a year; precious few Jews gather to hear the Torah read. Furthermore, I am baffled by how it was ever possible to read all the Torah in one day, aloud to a throng, now as much as then.

Because it is simply not feasible to read the entire Torah to all the Jews in the world, we need some way to keep our collective awareness of Torah alive. So at the end of Succot, we celebrate the Torah; we finish reading it and we start again to symbolize the entire cycle, to read the entire Torah in spirit if not in fact.

I like to think that what we lose in completeness we make up for in frequency; although we don’t read the entire Torah in a day as did the kohanim of old, we hold this celebration every year, to keep the Torah in our hearts and in our minds even when it is not shmita.

We finish reading the Torah, hold a great celebration—and we begin again.

Notice: This Sukkah is under the supervision of Hashem, professional Mashgiach

מב  בַּסֻּכֹּת תֵּשְׁבוּ, שִׁבְעַת יָמִים; כָּל-הָאֶזְרָח, בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל, יֵשְׁבוּ, בַּסֻּכֹּת.

מג  לְמַעַן, יֵדְעוּ דֹרֹתֵיכֶם, כִּי בַסֻּכּוֹת הוֹשַׁבְתִּי אֶת-בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל, בְּהוֹצִיאִי אוֹתָם מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם:  אֲנִי, ה” אלקיכם.

“(42) You shall dwell in booths seven days; all citizens in Israel shall dwell in booths, (43) that your generations may know that I made the children of Israel to dwell in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt. I am the LORD your G-d” (Vayikra 33: 42-43).

On Pesach, we are very lucky. Eliyahu HaNavi himself visits our seder table every year. On Sukkot, we are extremely lucky. Every night of the seven nights of Sukkot, a very special and holy guest joins our table. In fact, as we sit and enjoy our Yom Tov meals, we are privileged to have in our company seven of the undisputedly greatest leaders of Klal Israel of all time.

On one level, the act of inviting these guests into our Sukkah is reminiscent of the supreme importance of having guests, especially those less fortunate then us, to share the joy and simcha of the Yom Tovim with us. The Rambam tells us that any kind of physical enjoyment which is not shared with the poor or less fortunate is viewed by Hashem as “alien” and only enjoyment of our physical beings. When it is shared, our celebration is raised to the heights of Avodat Hashem, Service of Hashem.

Three of these seven guests are our Avot, Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. We also welcome Moshe Rabbeinu, our great teacher, and his brother Aaron HaKohen, along with Yosef the Righteous, son of Yaakov, and the “sweet singer of Israel,” King David. Each of the seven endured difficulties and overcame the struggles of exile with the constant protection and watch of Hashem, and this idea will help introduce us to a much deeper understanding of our Ushpizin Kedoshim.

Avraham was commanded, “Go forth from your homeland, from your birthplace, and from the house of your father, to the land that I will show you” (Bereishit 12:1).

Yitzchak left Caanan for Gerar; “And there was a famine in the land, in addition to the one that occurred in the days of Avraham, and he went to Avimelech, King of the Philistines in Gerar” (Bereishit 26:1).

Yosef was sold as a slave to Egypt. Moshe and Aaron wandered the desert for 40 years and never got to set foot in Israel, and David was forced to flee from his enemies and from the wrath of Saul into the Desert of Judea.

In all these situations, our ancestors taught us how to retain complete emunah and bitachon in Hashem, despite their challenges and troubles, and despite the great adversity that, at times, threatened their very existence. How interesting that these are the guests we invite into our Sukkah, a portable home reminding us of our journey in EXILE. Even more interesting is the fact that we invite these guests into a Sukkah which should really be seen as a shelter of Hashem’s protection.

When we leave our home to live in a Sukkah, we don’t do that just because for 40 years Bnei Israel lived in the same sort of structured portable house. By swapping our permanent house for a temporary one, we are in fact affirming that we are under the supervision of Hashem, professional mashgiach.

The Vilna Gaon explains that the Jewish people forged a unique relationship with Hashem that made them subject to divine protection. However, it almost disintegrated at the foot of Sinai with the sin of the golden calf. Sukkot marks the day that the Divine Presence of Hashem returned to rest upon the Jewish nation, and was confirmed with the instruction to build the Mishkan. The celebration of Sukkot is a ‘zman simchateinu’ because the Ananei HaKavod, Clouds of Glory, that protected the Jewish people in the desert, returned to them once more.

The Talmud tells us that it is no coincidence that the time of year that we celebrate our trust in God is the fall. The timing of Sukkot seems almost arbitrary. After all, our stay in the desert took place over forty years, rather than a particular week in the year. The timing of Sukkot, no less than the physical structure of the sukkah, is an integral statement of our identity. We are not leaving our homes for relief from the heat of summer; we are leaving our homes to experience our vulnerability.

Every time we walk into a Sukkah, every time we eat in a Sukkah, every time we sing about, celebrate, or enjoy the Sukkah, we are affirming Hashem’s protection over us. The same protection that guided our seven holy Ushpizin when they, too, suffered exile from Israel.

On January 16th, 1996, then-President of Israel Ezer Weizmann gave a speech to the joint house of the German parliament, in Hebrew. He said:

“I am a wandering Jew who follows in the footsteps of my forebears. And just as I escort them there and now and then, so do my forebears accompany me and stand with me here today.”

We are indeed very very lucky to have seven very special, very meaningful forebears join us every Sukkot. And we stand beside them under the shelter of Hashem, and between us lie thousands of years of history and millions of Jews who merited to enjoy the presence of the same guests, and the same protection. How else could the wandering Jew exist for so long, and survive through so many tragedies, if not under the Sukkah?

This week we read V’Zot Habracha and is the last parsha in the Torah. The parsha deals with the blessings that Moshe bestowed upon the Jews before he died. The blessing that he bestowed upon the tribe of Levi was that they would teach the children of Israel. Moshe blessed Binyamin that he would stay close to G-d. Moshe blessed Reuben that his tribe will not die out, and will be counted among the rest of the nation. The parsha also seems to say that Judah will rule because it talks about him and conquest. Moshe further insinuates that the children of Gad will be the judges.