After the emotional ups and downs of Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, Simchat Torah, the last of the fall festivals, should be a time to rejoice.
In fact, according to Rabbi Hayim Halevy Donin in his book “To Be a Jew,” Simchat Torah “is probably the most joyously celebrated festival day of the year. It is marked by seven processions around the synagogue with all of the scrolls of the Torah. As many worshippers as possible are given an opportunity to carry a Torah scroll.”
So I find myself wondering why I must confess that Simchat Torah is one of my least favorite holidays?
It wasn’t always so. I have fond memories of marching around with the Torah at my childhood synagogue. I can remember waving my paper flag and eating yummy caramel apples.
I also recall my consecration, a ceremony that celebrates children entering religious school for the first time — the very night that I received my own miniature Torah in front of the entire congregation.
When did I develop my aversion to Simchat Torah? I trace it back to the first time I celebrated Simchat Torah as rabbi of a congregation.
When the hakafot (processions) began, the Torahs were removed from the Ark one at a time. They were handed to members of the congregation who were instructed to march around.
Then began the dancing, rejoicing, and celebrating; hundreds of Jews marking the ending of one book of the Torah and the beginning of another. Seemingly, a perfect picture — a rabbi’s dream.
In or out of the Ark?
Herein lay the problem… These Torah scrolls, which I had committed my life to studying, revering, and protecting were suddenly being passed around the congregation member-to-member so that they, too, could dance with the Torah. There were many Torahs, and so much rejoicing.
Yet, a part of me held back worrying: Were they holding the Torah properly? Were the scrolls too heavy? What if someone was bumped while they were dancing with the Torah, would it accidentally be dropped?
While I love dancing with the Torah, there was also that little voice within waiting for the Torah scrolls to be safely back in their holy space.
The irony of my love/hate relationship with Simchat Torah is that the safety and security of the Ark contradicts a personal belief that I have towards Torah.
A verse from the Torah portion Nitzavim explains it best: “Surely, this Instruction [Torah] which I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach… No, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to observe it” (Deuteronomy 30:11, 14).
Torah should be for rejoicing. It should be for everyone, it should be fun, accessible and integral to our lives.
Torah can be messy; it can be difficult, even translated into modern-day slang. It can be danced, sung or rapped — whatever it takes to make the rich stories of our tradition relatable to our lives. Instead of holding it at arm’s length, we must dive in and explore.
In my own teaching of Torah, I find myself using sarcasm, questions, and every-day English to make a story from the Torah come to life. Frequently, I hear that the listener hadn’t heard the story before. I argue that is probably not the case. Instead, we’ve probably heard it numerous times before, but hadn’t connected with the telling.
Whatever the reason, it’s our job to find ways to connect. We need not look far, it’s in our mouths and hearts, right there to adore.
Which brings us back to Simchat Torah. As we prepare to begin again with the Book of Genesis, make this year your year of Torah. Find your way to connect with the stories and role models we are blessed to have there.
Perhaps it’s through Torah study at your congregation, a new adult education class, or by reading a fiction book loosely based on a Torah portion. “The Red Tent” by Anita Diamant is one example. Or, maybe it’s simply accepting the Torah as it’s passed to you at Simchat Torah.
The Torah wasn’t given to us to keep it locked in the Ark. It was given to us to live, to breathe, to keep close in our hearts and to allow it to live and guide in our lives. Torah should be real and it should be understandable. Torah should be ours.
Know where you’ll find me this year on Simchat Torah? Dancing with the Torah and watching our youngest students share in consecration. Acknowledging that even though the Torah scrolls might physically be safer in the Ark, they don’t belong there, they belong in your arms.
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