Little Noachs

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

The end of Sukkos is one of the loneliest times of the year. As the decorations are peeled off and the sukkah is taken apart and put away, we feel exposed and removed from the comforting shelter in which we had been enveloped for more than a month.

From the first time we said “L’Dovid Hashem ori” during Elul, we were drawn into a sublime world. B’motzoei Menucha, we felt the tremors increasing, as we ushered in the days of Selichos. The week reached a crescendo as we stood in awe upon hearing the piercing cry of the shofar that filled our hearts.

We soaked in the “behimatzo” of the Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, using those propitious days to inch closer. Finally, we stood as angels dressed in white on Yom Kippur, emerging from Ne’ilah feeling reborn and reenergized.

Then we climbed the next rung, going from teshuvah to simcha, entering the sacred abode of the sukkah, betzilah dimehemnusah. We sang and ate, drank and celebrated, rejoicing with Hashem.

By the time Sukkos began, we felt that the barriers between us and Hashem had come down. Then Simchas Torah arrived and we felt one with the Torah and other Jews. We sang “Yisroel v’Oraisah V’Kudsha Brich Hu chad hu,” grasping the hands and shoulders of fellow Yidden and dancing, all of us equal, joyous and fulfilled, feeling the meaning and beauty of life.

And then, suddenly, it all ended and we were thrust out of that cloud of Yom Tov joy and sanctity back into the mundane world once again, with only echoes and happy memories to accompany us.

In the zemer of “Azameir Bishvochin,” authored by the Arizal and sung in Jewish homes on Friday evenings at the Shabbos meal, we say, “Yehei rava kamei d’sishrei al amei.” The words of the zemer contain great depth of meaning, hidden from many of us. Yodei Chein explains that the forementioned words are a request that the influences of Tishrei remain with us throughout the year.

We enter this new period with fresh enthusiasm and a desire to gain a deeper understanding and appreciation of the Torah whose completion we just celebrated. We seek to take the messages of Tishrei and what they represent with us on life’s road.

We began the Torah anew, studying Parshas Bereishis this past week. We studied the first posuk, “Bereishis bara Elokim - In the beginning, Hashem created heaven and earth,” and are confronted by the first Rashi in Chumash. He quotes Rabi Yitzchok, who posits that the Torah should have begun with the parsha of hachodesh hazeh lochem instead of the stories of creation and the lives of the avos and the Jews through avdus Mitzrayim. He says that the Torah begins with creation so that when the nations of the world question our ownership of Eretz Yisroel, we can answer them that Hashem created the world and decided that this land belongs to the Jews.

This is difficult to understand, for the vast majority of the nations of the world, as is evident, do not accept that answer, on many levels.

We may explain that the Torah begins with Bereishis to teach us that Hashem created the world for the Jews and for Torah, as Chazal say. Every Jew, upon setting out to navigate his way through Torah, is reminded that everything in Torah is Divine, as is everything that transpires in this world. Nothing happens by itself. It happens because the Creator wanted it to be that way.

Eretz Yisroel is the land of the Jewish people because Hakadosh Boruch Hu willed it so, and nothing the nations of the world say or do can change that fact. Everything that happens there is because Hashem decided that the behavior of the Jewish people there caused it through their observance – or lack of – of Torah and mitzvos.

We study that first posuk and are energized to note that our actions make a difference; that we were created for a purpose and our lives have meaning.

The parsha concludes that man lost his way and became engaged with evil. Hashem, kevayachol, regretted creating him and decided that He would wipe man off the face of the earth. There was one exception. A man named Noach found favor in the eyes of Hashem, as the posuk states, “V’Noach motza chein b’einei Hashem.”

Noach found favor, and although everyone else was slated for destruction, he stood out and would be spared, for he had “chein.” What was that special chein and what caused it?

Noach was unimpressed by the rest of the world. He studied the lessons of bereishis and they guided him. He knew the world was created for him. He knew that his life had meaning and value, and he knew that to maintain it, he needed to follow the wishes of the world’s Creator.

This week’s parsha provides us the opportunity to learn the lessons of Noach and his teivah, observing how one person’s behavior affected not only himself, but the entire world.

I once wrote that we are all little Noachs and some people didn’t understand what I meant and were critical of my description. But I still think that in essence, we are all little Noachs, seeking to stay afloat in a conflicted world, challenged by many issues, spiritual and physical. We need to make a living without succumbing to dishonesty, chicanery and disloyalty. We need to bring up a fine family of healthy, well-behaved, intelligent children in a world gone mad. We have untold pressures to contend with at all times and things to balance out. Yes, we are little Noachs trying to construct little personal teivahs to keep us afloat and straight and honest and good.

The posuk states, “Es HaElokim hishalech Noach - Noach walked with Hashem.” Perhaps we can understand this posuk to mean that Noach walked with Hashem because he had no one else to walk with. Noach was essentially all alone. He had no one other than Hashem. He had no one to converse with, so he spoke to Hashem.

For 120 years, Noach attempted to convince the people of his generation to right their ways, to no avail. He was unable to sway anyone to live a life of dignity, honor and respect.

We don’t know how great Noach would have been had he lived in a different period. All we know is what the Torah tells us about him. He was a tzaddik and a tomim, a righteous, upstanding person in a generation in which there were no others.

We study the parsha named for Noach and discern that it is possible to stand out. The entire world may be living deceitful, dishonest, immoral lives, and we can still hew to Hashem’s creed of kindness and goodness. We all have within ourselves the ability to remain bnei Torah despite where the world is holding, because we were created that way. If Hashem created the world and He formed the Torah and our people, then it stands to reason that whatever happens, we can remain loyal to Hashem and his Torah.

We learn this week’s parsha and observe that we don’t have to be influenced by those around us. We can be strong, honest and moral in a time of depravity. And if we do, we will find favor in the eyes of Hashem.

The significance of the teivah that Noach built is that in a generation of hedonism, immorality and wickedness, he was able to create an island for himself. This is a lesson that is relevant to us in today’s world.

While our physical situation at the present time is better than it was anywhere over the past 500 years, and Torah is being studied around the world on a scope greater than anyone can remember, there are dark clouds on the horizon and awful winds are blowing.

Enemies of Hashem, His Torah, and those who scrupulously follow His laws are using brawn and authority in a brazen attempt to stem the growth of the Torah community and starve it into submission. The Israeli president just handed the ability of forming a government to the leader of the party whose ticket to electoral victory was a vicious campaign against religious Jewry. In a flash, the vile politician who holds the balance of power went from a friend of the religious parties to a sworn enemy.

Leadership wanes, crises loom, solutions are lacking, fiction replaces truth, glossy veneers substitute for depth, and ignorance is more popular than brilliance. Amateurs seem to be in charge wherever you look, and we all pay for their mistakes and failures.

Spiritual threats abound. The air seems to have been poisoned and no one is able to find the proper antibodies. The culture of this country, which was founded on - and led by - religious values, has sunk to unprecedented lows. The assault on traditional family life is tangible. The deviation from the script of just a decade ago is very strong and is sweeping across the country.

Chazal say that had the people of Noach’s time followed his example and heeded his admonitions, the Torah could have been given in their day. (See Sefer Pri Tzaddik on this week’s parsha.) Instead of floodwaters, they could have had Torah, which is referred to as mayim. Instead of destruction, they could have had rebirth. Instead of desolation, they could have merited beneficence. Instead of kloloh, being cursed, they could have had brocha and been eternally blessed. Because they preferred to follow the path of their desires, they were punished with infamy, shame and violent death.

We look around and wonder what we can do to stay afloat in a sinking world. We look to Noach as one who can provide us with inspiration and serve as a guide to us, reminding us not to feel lonely and not to give up, despite the odds against us.

A young Israeli yeshiva bochur was having incredible difficulty understanding his learning. The bochur worked hard, but he found that he was never able to reach the same levels of comprehension as his friends. Feeling worthless, he fell into a deep depression.

His rebbi was pained by the talmid’s feelings of worthlessness, and as hard as he tried, he was unable to convince the boy that his life had value. He took the young man to speak to the Steipler Gaon, a leading gadol of the time. The boy shared his frustrations and grief. He described the difficulty he encountered in comprehending even the most basic ideas of the Gemara. The Steipler asked the bochur if there was any blatt Gemara that he felt he knew. “Yes,” said the boy. “The first blatt in Nedorim.”

“I promise you,” said the aged giant, whose every word was measured and who exuded truth, “that when you learn that daf in Nedorim, it is as important to Hashem as the chiddushim of an illui in Ponovezh or the star lamdan in Slabodka. He is listening to you.”

The young man was comforted as the Steipler repeated the assurance. The rebbi attested that from that point on, the bochur succeeded in yeshiva. Once he was assured that his life had meaning and that his work in Torah had value, he shot up.

The Steipler had given the boy a teivah of his own. He had taught him not to look at those around him. He taught him to look upwards. He taught the boy to walk and talk with his Creator.

This is the lesson we received from the sukkah and this is the lesson we are reminded of this week. We aren’t here to win friends or popularity contests. We are told that Noach, one of the less popular figures in his time, found chein in the eyes of Hashem.

Winter is fast approaching. We must prepare ourselves for the cold and the snow. Though we have left the comforting walls of the sukkah, we can still maintain its protection if we preserve the levels we reached over the past months of Elul and Tishrei. If we stand tall, we will be blessed with the fortitude to weather the impending storms and not be swept away by the mabul of a world devoid of character, conscience and integrity.

In our personal teivos constructed and reinforced with Torah, we can breathe purified, rarified air and contribute to the spiritual warming of the global community.

Bereishis, the world was created for us, for me and for you, whether we are brilliant or not. Every life has value; every person’s efforts are noted and rewarded.

There was a man I would always see in shul who would come consistently with his young sons. This was back in the pre-ArtScroll days. One day, I noticed that the man could not read Hebrew. He couldn’t daven. I noticed that his lips never moved. He would come to shul and look at the siddur, flipping the pages now and then, answering amein and yehei shmei rabbah. He came for the benefit of his children. He wanted them to learn, he wanted them to daven, and he wanted them to grow up to be ehrliche Yidden, so he would come to shul and make believe.

I pitied him, the poor guy, never given the benefit of knowing the Alef-Bais. And then I began to be jealous of him. He couldn’t daven through his lips, like everyone else. He davened from his heart. Every day - summer, winter, spring and fall, in the freezing cold and in the boiling hot, through the rain, snow, sleet and hail - this nice, fine man was in shul with his siddur.

I became convinced that Hashem waited for his arrival every day. Hashem heard his prayers, which emanated from a simple good heart. Who knows what he davened for? Good children for sure, parnossah no doubt, good health, peace in the world, Moshiach, and everything else that is important. Hashem heard those prayers, just as he did those of everyone else in that shul. Everyone counts.

How many of us break our heads learning something, going through a sugya, or a perek, a masechta, or a siman in Shulchan Aruch, only to forget it a few weeks later? We can begin to feel like that young boy whose life was changed by the Steipler. What worth is my learning if I can’t retain it?

A yungerman was learning Maseches Bava Kama, and as soon as he turned the page, he forgot what was on it. Rav Ovadiah Yosef was known for his ability to quote extemporaneously from all areas of Torah scholarship. The man went to him and asked him for his secret.

There is a famous Tosafos on page 77a of the masechta that fills 98% of the page. “Are you familiar with this Tosafos?” Rav Ovadiah asked the man before proceeding to recite it by heart. “Do you know why I can recite it perfectly from memory? It’s because I studied it 200 times! Now tell me, after doing that, is there any way I could not know it by heart?”

Rav Yosef had many detractors and was occupied at different stages of his life with different challenges. In his younger years, he was poor. Then he was involved with matters involving the rabbinate, and then with botei din, and then with politics. As he grew in Torah and became increasingly famous, he had more outside pressures and things clamoring for his time. But he continued to grow and remember, because he constructed for himself a teivah of Torah and dedicated his life to its study and observance, becoming blessed not only with unforgettable knowledge, but also with the dynamism, excellence, exuberance and leadership for which Rav Ovadiah earned international and eternal fame as a beacon of light.

The few, the proud and the strong take succor in the story of Noach and his teivah. They freely and bravely walk with Hashem, ignoring the calls of the masses who have lost their way in the fog of life. They remain faithful despite being unpopular, for they know that their dream will never die. Their hope springs eternal. They are the ones whose lives are filled with chein and they are the ones who find favor in the eyes of Hashem and mankind.

Chag Someiach!

Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

The life of the Rambam reflects the experience of the Bnei Yisroel in golus. Born in Cordova, Spain, to a family that traced its lineage back to Dovid Hamelech, at the age of 13 he was forced to flee. Almaden Muslims, who captured his city, gave the Jews an ultimatum: Either adopt Islam, leave, or die. His family left Spain and set out on a long voyage, which ended in Fez, Morocco. Along the way, the Rambam composed his Peirush HaMishnayos.

Fez was also under Almaden rule, but since the Maimon family was counted as foreigners, they were not forced to convert. An incident that took place on Sukkos placed the Rambam’s life in jeopardy and forced him to be on the move once again.

On Sukkos, the Rambam was walking in the street with his lulav, esrog, haddasim and aravos. It was a strange sight, as most Jews feared the Muslims and did not express their religion in public, certainly not with any degree of pride. A minister’s henchman spotted him and asked why he was parading in the street like a crazed idiot with branches and a palm stick. The Rambam replied that those who throw stones are the crazy ones, not those who observe the commandments of He who created the world.

When told of the insult to Islam, whose custom was to throw stones at the cave considered holy in Mecca, the minister decided that the Rambam should be arrested and killed. The Rambam fled and found room on a ship headed to Eretz Yisroel. There was hunger and desolation in the holy land, so he left and ended up in Egypt, where he flourished.

Sukkos is a Yom Tov that celebrates many things, among them how Hashem protects us in golus. It also hints to the eventual geulah. This is perhaps why it is said (Tur 417) that the chag of Sukkos is connected to Yaakov Avinu. He is the father associated with golus, as he left home to escape the clutches of his brother Eisov and later in life followed his son Yosef into exile in Mitzrayim. Despite all the hardships he endured, Yaakov was appreciative to Hashem for everything, as Chazal say (Medrash at the end of Parshas Vo’eschanon): “The posuk states, ‘Ve’ahavta eis Hashem Elokecha bechol levovecha uvechol nafshecha uvechol me’odecha.’ Avrohom loved Hashem with his whole heart, and Yitzchok loved Hashem with his whole soul, for he was prepared to die at the Akediah. Bechol me’odecha refers to Yaakov, who thanked Hashem for all, for the good and for the bad.”

Yaakov showed us the way to endure when we are not in our own home, but are exiled among strangers. Our ability to survive in all the temporary dwelling places in which we have found ourselves throughout the ages was instilled in us by Yaakov.

The sukkah reminds us that we are in golus, awaiting redemption. This can be inferred from the posuk (Vayikra 23:42-43) that explains that the reason we were commanded to live in the sukkah on Sukkos is “so that your generations will know that I placed the Jewish people to live in sukkos when I took them out of Mitzrayim.”

According to Rabi Akiva (Sukkah 11b), just as they dwelled in sukkos when they traveled in the desert to Eretz Yisroel, so too, as we are slowly making our way to the geulah, we commemorate what Hashem did for us back then.

Rabi Eliezer argues with Rabi Akiva and posits that the posuk (ibid.) refers to the Ananei Hakavod that hovered over the Jewish people in the desert, providing them protection. The sukkah reminds us of the time we merited the Divine protection engendered by the Shechinah traveling along with us. The reminder serves to inspire us to bring ourselves once again to the level of meriting the Shechinah being amongst us.

The Yom Tov of Sukkos is a most appropriate time for this remembrance, because, at this time, following Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and the Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, when we have repented and are cleansed of our sins and have rectified our middos ra’os, we are in a preparatory state of redemption.

The geulah cannot come as long as there is division between Jews and as long as we speak lashon hora, which is an outgrowth of sinas chinom, the original cause of the destruction of the Bais Hamikdosh.

However, apparently, lashon hora is so endemic to us that it can only be eradicated by Hashem himself. It’s not me who says that. It is a Medrash at the end of Parshas Ki Seitzei. “Hakadosh Boruch Hu says, ‘Because you have amongst you people who speak lashon hora, I removed My Shechinah from among you, but le’osid lavo, when I will remove the yeitzer hora from you, I will return my Shechinah among you.’”

The Medrash seems to be saying that the churban was caused by lashon hora and the Bais Hamikdosh cannot be rebuilt until we are free from lashon hora. The urge to engage in lashon hora is so great that it will take a Divine act to remove the scourge from us.

However, it would seem that following Yom Kippur, we can be on a level akin to the time when Hashem will remove the yeitzer hora altogether. It is therefore now that we construct small homes reminiscent of the Ananei Hakavod, Hashem’s Shechinah, which protected us in the desert after we left Mitzrayim.

We are saying, in essence, that we hope to be able to maintain the level we reached on Yom Kippur and merit not only sitting in the shadow of Hashem’s greatness, b’tzeilah demeheimnusah, during Sukkos, but permanently as well.

With this, we can also understand the teaching of the Vilna Gaon (Likkutei HaGra M’Vilna, Sukkos, 425) that the sukkah is meant to subjugate the yeitzer hora for lashon hora. Since we have attained a high level through the erasure of our sins and bad traits, and we sit under the s’chach, which reminds us of the Ananei Hakavod, we ponder our fate in the sukkah, which is connected to Yaakov, the father most closely associated with golus, and recognize that if we continue to refrain from lashon hora, we can bring about the ultimate redemption and the arrival of Moshiach.

With this we can also understand why when we leave the sukkah at the culmination of yom tov we recite a short prayer, something we do not do when completing any other mitzvah. We say, “Just as I properly performed and dwelled in this sukkah, so too I should merit to sit in the sukkah of the Levioson,” [at the time of Moshiach]. We are saying, that since the way we observed this mitzvah of sukkah, by refraining from lashon hora, demonstrates that we are worthy of redemption, we ask that we merit the arrival of Moshiach and the final redemption.

It was Pesach in the Kovno Ghetto and there was no matzah. A starving bochur approached the Dvar Avrohom, the senior rabbinic figure in the ghetto, and asked him if he could eat bread, since there was no matzah. The rov asked the boy in which yeshiva he had been learning before he found himself with thousands of others in that awful place. He told him that he was a student in the yeshiva in Vilkomir.

The Dvar Avrohom told the hungry bochur, “If you were someone else, I would tell you that you could eat bread, but since you are a talmid of Vilkomir, you are on a higher level and you should be moser nefesh not to eat bread on Pesach.”

We are not the same people we were a month ago. Starting in the weeks of Elul and continuing with Rosh Hashanah, the Aseres Yemei Teshuvah and Yom Kippur, we have been working to perfect our middos and rid ourselves of sin and things that hold us down. We have been seeking mitzvos to perform to help save ourselves and the world, as the Rambam admonishes us to do (Hilchos Teshuvah 3:4), and we have been growing and becoming better and holier people.

Then Sukkos comes and we are energized by our forefather Yaakov and by the ananim that hover above us as they did in the desert, when we were headed to geulah. We proudly observe all the mitzvos of the chag, with an all-encompassing simcha, as the posuk commands us.

What better time is there for Hakadosh Boruch Hu to see that we have done the best we can and merit at this time that He remove the yeitzer hora of lashon hora from us and bring the geulah sheleimah bekarov.

Wherever Jews have been, whether it was the Sinai desert, Yerushalayim in the shadows of the Bais Hamikdosh, Bavel, Rome, Spain, Morocco, Eastern and Western Europe, and everywhere in the world where we have resided since we were evicted from our home, we have sat for seven days in green-roofed wooden huts. Jews throughout the ages have carried the same exact daled minim that we do, with abundant pride and joy.

Let us not think that we live in times that are worse than those our brethren have lived in. Let us appreciate the gifts we have and be thankful that we live in a time when we can proudly walk in the street with our daled minim, and we can safely erect sukkos without fear that the municipality or neighbors will take them down. Let us suburbanites be thankful that we can have our own private sukkah and don’t have to shlep with our dishes and food up and down flights of stairs.

Let’s be thankful that our children can grow up in a time of minimal anti-Semitism, when observance of mitzvos is a natural thing to do and they don’t stick out as some vestige of a time gone by.

Sukkos is a time of happiness, brought on by being appreciative and accepting, as was our forefather Yaakov, who thanked Hashem for everything that befell him in his turbulent life. Because of that, he was able to be productive and holy, giving birth to the twelve shevotim. Because he didn’t get down when things didn’t seem right or fair, he merited being our father and the father of our nation. His son was lost, his beloved wife died young, he was often far from home and hounded, he was cold at night and sweltered by day, but he thanked Hashem for it all.

So should we!

Have a great Yom Tov. Chag someiach!