Time of Joy

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

We are meant to be joyous on every Yom Tov, but the Yom Tov of Sukkos has the special distinction of being referred to as Zeman Simchoseinu, our time of happiness. Why is Sukkos distinct in its added measures of simcha?

Tishrei is the most special month on the Jewish calendar, beginning with Rosh Hashanah, continuing with the Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, Yom Kippur, Sukkos and Hoshanah Rabbah, and concluding with Shemini Atzeres. Each Yom Tov has its own halachos, cherished minhagim, and segulos, accomplishing different things for the Jewish people.

Tishrei is preceded by the month of Elul, when Hashem is closer to the Jewish people and more accepting of the teshuvah of those who seek to improve their ways as they prepare for the Yom Hadin, the judgment of Rosh Hashanah. All throughout the Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, we add extra tefillos and concentrate on teshuvah, seeking forgiveness for our aveiros and to be sealed for a good year.

The posuk in Koheles (7:29) states, “Ha’Elokim asah es ha’adam yoshor veheimah bikshu cheshbonos rabim.” The Nefesh Hachaim (1:6) explains that when Hashem created man, He fashioned him to be good, proper and correct, yoshor, and in his nature, man had no inclination to do anything improper or to sin on his own. Adam was given bechirah, the freedom to choose on his own to do mitzvos or do aveiros should he be convinced by something outside of his body to do wrong. But according to his nature and the way he was created, he had no pull or desire to do what is incorrect.

That changed when the nochosh convinced Chava to disobey Hashem’s commandment not to eat from the Eitz Hada’as. As the Gemara in Maseches Shabbos (146a) says, the nochosh “hitil boh zuhamoh,” literally translated as infected her with moral contamination. When that happened, everything changed. The zuhamah was a spiritual poison that changed man’s nature and created in him a desire to sin. From then on, he didn’t need an outside push to do aveiros. He was able to be drawn to chato’im on his own.

If a person chooses to go in the path of proper conduct, then, each time he does a mitzvah and a chesed, it strengthens his ability to act positively. It is like exercise. Each time you lift a weight, your arm muscles strengthen. The more weights you lift, the further you walk, and the more laps you swim, the stronger you become.

It works the same way in the spiritual realm. When we do mitzvos and learn Torah, it strengthens our tzad hatov and we become better people and more drawn to doing mitzvos and learning Torah.

If we go the other way and begin doing aveiros, then the tzad hatov decreases, and each time we do an aveirah, our souls become blackened and we become more distant from Hakadosh Boruch Hu.

The Ramchal writes (Derech Hashem 4:8) that teshuvah is accepted with greater ease on Yom Kippur, and Yom Kippur even has the ability to totally erase the sins, repair the damage they caused, and return the repentant person to his previous holy condition, separated from ra and reconnected to Hashem.

A similar concept is presented by the Bais Halevi in his drashos (15). It was also recounted by Rav Chaim Shlomo Leibowitz in the name of his uncle, Rav Boruch Ber Leibowitz, and published in a yarchon, Mishnas Yerach Ha’eisonim. Yom Kippur cleans away the chet, removes its residue, and returns the baal teshuvah to his original state before his chato’im created in him an inclination and urge to sin.

This is what Yeshayahu hanovi is referring to when he says that Hashem proclaims (Yeshayahu 1:18), “Im yihiyu chata’eichem kashonim kasheleg yalbinu, im yaadimu katolah k’tzemer yihiyu.” If you show remorse and are mis’choreit on the aveirah, Hashem will wipe it clean and you will return to your previous clean state.

This is why immediately following Yom Kippur, we begin engaging in mitzvos. We recite Kiddush Levanah, go home, make Havdolah, and begin building the sukkah.

Following the cleansing of Yom Kippur, we are now returned to the situation we were in before we sinned. We no longer have zuhamah. We don’t have the stains of sin on our souls. We don’t have anything pushing us to do the wrong thing.

We therefore become engaged in doing mitzvos, strengthening our tzad hatov and adding zechuyos to our ledger. As we study Torah and perform mitzvos, our devotion to Torah and mitzvos becomes strengthened.

As we busy ourselves with mitzvos, we are also ensuring that we don’t permit the ra, the Soton, the yeitzer hora, to return and begin building in us an appetite for chet.

And then Sukkos comes, and we enter the sukkah and dwell there for seven days, enveloped by Hashem’s protection, under the tzila demehemnusa. We perform the mitzvos of the chag, further strengthening our tzad hatov, so that by the time Yom Tov is over, we are bulked up with mitzvos and strong enough to take on the evil which will undoubtedly confront and seek to tempt us.

Not only that, but as we dwell under the shade of the sukkah, we are protected from aveiros.

Sukkos follows the Yomim Noraim because when the Bnei Yisroel sinned with the Eigel in the midbar, they lost the protection of the Shechinah and the Ananei Hakavod departed. They did teshuvah and were forgiven on Yom Kippur. On Sukkos, the Ananei Hakavod returned and surrounded them, sheltering them from their enemies and the elements.

On Yom Kippur, the hashpa’ah of the selicha of the original day of forgiveness in the desert is renewed, and following our teshuvah, we are forgiven for our sins just as our forefathers were. On Sukkos, we once again merit the protection of the Ananei Hakavod in the form of the tzila demehemnusa which hovers over our sukkos.

This is the meaning of the Zohar (3:103) which states, “Ta chazi, beshaata da tzila demehemnusa shechintah parsa gadfa alei mele’aila - When a person enters the sukkah, the Shechinah spreads its wings over him.” The Vilna Gaon expresses the concept a bit differently, saying that the posuk in Shir Hashirim (1:4) of “Heviani haMelech chadorov – The King [Hashem] brought me into his room” refers to the sukkah.

This is the reason for the extra joy on Sukkos, as the posuk (Devorim 16:14-15) states, “Vesomachta bechagecha vehoyisa ach someiach.” Sukkos is Zeman Simchoseinu, because on these days, we are cleansed from sin, concentrating on performing mitzvos and enveloped in Hashem’s embrace. What could be better?

The Vilna Gaon writes (Even Sheleimah 11:14-15) that everything that transpires during the month of Tishrei hints to the World to Come. First there is the Day of Judgment, Rosh Hashanah. Then all sins are forgiven on Yom Kippur. Finally, there is the great joy of Sukkos and Shemini Atzeres/Simchas Torah. The future will mirror this. First there will be the Day of Judgment and then the realization of the pesukim, “Vezorakti aleichem mayim tehorim,” and, “Ki eslach la’asher ashear.” Then there will be Sukkos, as the posuk says, “Vesukkah tihiyeh letzeil yomam,” referring to the time of simcha. This will be followed by Shemini Atzeres, when the deniers of Hashem’s existence will disappear and Klal Yisroel will celebrate “Atzeres tihiyeh lochem.”

Our children and grandchildren sit with us in the sukkah, much as we sat with our parents and grandparents in their sukkah, in a scene that has been repeated millions of times over the ages. The sukkah, as our existence, has usually been tenuous and fragile, but though it is a temporary structure, its message is permanent and eternal. Despite the way things appear, we are never alone, we will never disappear. As the sukkah, we will be everlasting because Hashem is with us, unseen, but evident, through his tzeila d’meheimnusa.

Despite all that has been thrown at us throughout the ages and as difficult as it was in some periods to observe the mitzvah, Jews have sought refuge in the sukkah, knowing and believing that Hashem’s spirit hovers there offering protection from the enemies, elements, the soton and the yetzer hora.

If a list were to be compiled of enduring symbols of Jewish life in golus, the sukkah would be there along with the haunting, melancholy, joyous Yiddish tune “Ah sukkale ah kleineh” playing in the background. The beautiful, classic tune tells the story of a man who fashioned his sukkah from some old wooden boards and covered it with green s’chach branches. As he sits in his sukkah, reciting kiddush on the first night of Yom Tov, a bitter wind blows, threatening the flickering candles, which refuse to be extinguished and continue offering light.

His young daughter is terrified that the sukkah will be toppled by the winds. “Have no fear,” he calmly tells her. “The sukkah is already standing for 2,000 years. The winds that are blowing, which you are so afraid of, will calm and dissipate, but our sukkaleh will remain strong.”

Way back when, the Slonimer Rebbe met a cantonist soldier on Sukkos. The unfortunate young man was one of the many children who were torn away from their families at a young age and placed in the Czar’s army for twenty-five years. The boys grew up removed from Torah and religion and led miserable lives in the Russian army. The young man whom the rebbe met was away for so long that only faint recollections of normal life remained. He was separated from his family for so long that he had forgotten most of which he learned and what it meant to be loved.

The rebbe looked at the soldier and said to him, “Your face has a special glow. Please tell me what zechus you have. Which mitzvah did you perform to merit this that I sense about you?”

The soldier did not remember doing anything special. He told the rebbe that he was forced to stand guard for hours at a time and when he was done, he had no strength left to do much but rest in bed.

The rebbe pressed him and the soldier remembered that on Sukkos, he had eaten a small meal in a sukkah. He said that for some reason on the first night of Sukkos, he felt a strong pull to eat in a sukkah. He asked a fellow soldier to stand guard for him, switching shifts so he could take a break.

He snuck out of the barracks and ran to the Jewish section of town where he was not allowed to be. He found a home with a sukkah behind it. He knocked on the door and asked the family if he might join them. They were thrilled to welcome and befriend a Cantonist. They helped the unlearned soldier recite kiddush and recite the brocha of leisheiv basukkah. He ate some challah and a piece of fish, bentched and quickly returned to his post before his absence would be noticed.

 “That’s it, rebbe. That was the only mitzvah I did in a very long time and it was nothing special,” he said.

 “What did you do when you returned to the base?” asked the rebbe.

The soldier looked down and said, “The truth is that I was so excited at having eaten in a sukkah that as I stood all alone at my post, I began dancing, so happy about what I had done.”

The poor suffering Cantonist, separated so long from Yiddishkeit and Yidden, had a burst of inspiration and ended up in a sukkah, where he was overwhelmed by the embrace of the tzeila d’meheimnusa, receiving a jolt of energy and happiness and an enduring glow.

The story of the Jew in golus. May we all be like that Cantonist, energized and empowered by the sukkah, swept off our feet with joy every time we merit to be enveloped in its embrace.

May we all be zoche that the situation we find ourselves in over Sukkos extends throughout the year, as we concentrate on doing good and avoiding the forbidden. May our Torah, avodah and maasim tovim strengthen us, bring us joy, and be a source of merit to bring Moshiach.

Wake Up

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

There are various reactions to the sound of the shofar’s cry. The sensitive soul hears several messages as the plaintive sound forms a song like no other. It is a tune of triumph mixed with recollection and tones of introspection.

The Rambam, who compiled and clarified so many of the halachos that govern our lives, heard a unique message in the sound of the shofar and, deviating from his usual practice, provided a reason for the mitzvah.

He writes in Hilchos Teshuvah (3:4), “Even though [the commandment to blow the shofar] is a gezeiras hakosuv, there is a hint to the reason, for it is as if the shofar is saying, ‘Uru yesheinim misheinaschem. Wake up you who are asleep from your slumber. Search through your actions, repent, and remember your Creator.’”

The Rambam then quotes from the Pesikta: “These are the people who get caught up in the frivolities of the period - havlei hazeman - and forget the truth, spending their time with silliness and emptiness. The shofar calls out to them and says, ‘Look inside your souls and improve your ways, and let each one of you leave behind his bad ways and improper thoughts.’”

Then the Rambam writes the eternal words that Jews have in their DNA: “Lefichoch, therefore, all people should see themselves during the entire year as if they are evenly divided between being zakai, innocent, and chayov, guilty. Every person should view the world the same way.”

Meaning, if he commits one sin, he will have caused for himself and for the entire world to be guilty. If he does one mitzvah, he will have ensured that he and the entire world are found innocent and he will bring about salvation for everyone.

“This is what it means when it says, ‘Tzaddik yesod olam.’ The tzaddik himself is the foundation of the world, because he has caused the entire world to be judged positively and to be saved.”

The Rambam’s words are often repeated and analyzed, especially at this time of year, by people seeking to do teshuvah. His teachings are so direct and touching, deeply affecting every person who studies them. But more than that, he codifies and organizes for us the teshuvah process so that we are able to progress along the path to achieve absolution of our sins, refinement of our neshamos, improvement of our character, and, most all, perfection of our shemiras hamitzvos. It would behoove any of us who has not done so to read through the words of the Rambam, softly and slowly, absorbing them and using them as an impetus to proper teshuvah.

While studying these perokim, I was pondering why the Rambam uses the metaphor of sleep for people whose time is consumed with trivialities. These people are far removed from asleep. In fact, they appear to be very much awake and occupied with fulfilling their various desires. Perhaps he should have referred to them as wayward, lost, or confused people who are wasting their lives away. Why is their condition referred to as slumber?

Furthermore, how does the second part of the halacha follow the first? Why does he say that lefichoch, because people waste their time, man should therefore view himself and the world as having an equal number of merits and sins - chatzi chayov and chatzi zakai - and thus seek to perform a mitzvah in whose merit he will tip the scale towards zakai and bring salvation to himself and to the world?

How does the way we view the world follow the admonition regarding those who are asleep behavlei hazeman?

The transitional word, lefichoch, indicates that there is a connection between the call to arise from our slumber and the mandate to see ourselves as chatzi chayov and chatzi zakai, perched on the dividing line between the abyss of evil and the path leading to eternal life. What is the connection?

The words of the Rambam, whose every nuance and hint reflect truth and Divine inspiration, require explanation. Are we, in fact, asleep? What is the meaning of the repeated references to slumber?

The story of Yonah Hanovi, which we lain on Yom Kippur, provides us with a strong allusion of what the Rambam means when he uses the word slumber, nirdom. Yonah sought to escape from following Hashem’s directive. He fled to a ship that was to take him to a far-off land. But Hashem caused a stormy tempest at sea, and the ship was rocked about and threatened to break apart. Everyone aboard began to panic, throwing all non-essential items overboard as they fought for survival.

With the ship rocking and commotion all around him, Yonah went to his room to take a nap, as if nothing was happening.

The captain finds him and is incensed. He calls out to Yonah, “Mah lecha nirdom? What are you doing, sleeper?”

How can a person be calm enough to lie down when the boat he is on, with all of its passengers, is at risk of sinking? The waves are lapping at the ship, threatening to rip it apart. How could a person rest comfortably when his life is in jeopardy?

The captain was thus infuriated at Yonah. “Mah lecha nirdom?” he said. “What is with you, apathetic person? How can you be so indifferent to reality? How can you ignore what is transpiring around you? Kum kera el Elokecha. Quickly, pray to Hashem that He save us all from certain death.”

The posuk in Shir Hashirim (5:2) states, “Ani yesheinah velibi eir…” Rashi explains that the posuk is referring to the era of the first Bais Hamikdosh, when Knesses Yisroel, sedate and serene, became lax in their avodas Hashem. They no longer felt that they were under pressure to perform properly. Everything was going well for them and they became like a sleeping person who slowly relaxes his limbs.

We see from these pesukim, and others, that when the metaphor of sleep is used, it is indicative of a person who is apathetic and has ceased to feel the pressure to do and to be, to produce and to accomplish.

To be asleep means to be oblivious to what is going on around you. It means to be blind and deaf to the realities and opportunities inherent in every moment and, most of all, to the potential that lies dormant within.

The famed Yerushalmi baal mussar and darshan, Rav Shalom Shvadron, was visiting Rav Eizek Sher, the Slabodka rosh yeshiva, in Bnei Brak, when Rav Sher said to him, “Let’s go to the window. I want to show you the cemetery.” Rav Shvadron was wondering how he would be able to see the far-off cemetery from Rav Sher’s window, but he followed.

Rav Sher began gazing out the window and pointing to the street below. I’m paraphrasing what he said to bring out my point, but he said something like this: “Do you see those people down there? They are wasting their time with the havlei hazeman. Instead of learning Torah and being productive, they are engaging in triviality, in matters of little importance. They are alive, but they are burying themselves with the havlei hazeman.”

Those people are nirdomim. They may be alive and awake, but their souls are dead. They are aimless. They don’t think about the preciousness of time and the many opportunities Hakadosh Boruch Hu gives them to spend their time productively, benefiting themselves, their families, their communities, and the world.

Says the Rambam, we cry out to them during these precious days and say, “Mah lochem nirdomim! Wake up! Uru yesheinim misheinaschem!” The shofar is the vehicle we use to convey that message.

A person’s potential is immeasurable, limited only by his lack of ambition, effort and belief in himself. The worst thing that we can do is rob people of their self-esteem, because that inhibits them from seeking to grow and excel. Our yeitzer hora excels at telling us that we cannot succeed in pursuing a goal. He convinces us that it is not even worth making the attempt. When we allow him to convince us, we fail.

A beautiful photograph of two young boys in a Shuvu school in Lod in Eretz Yisroel was taken this week. A boy is seen holding a siddur and davening. He is tugging at the tzitzis strings of the boy in the seat in front of him and kissing them as he recites Shema.

His parents have not yet come to appreciate the mitzvos with which we are blessed and have not yet purchased for this boy a pair of tzitzis. But he doesn’t let that hold him back. He wants to grow, he wants to lead a full Jewish life, and he wants to be productive and do mitzvos, so he reaches for the closest pair of tzitzis and grabs on to them and kisses them.

He doesn’t listen to his yeitzer hora. He doesn’t accept his fate and console himself with his situation. His soul is awake. He yearns to grow and do mitzvos properly. He doesn’t just shrug his shoulders and move on apathetically. He gets out of his seat, going beyond his comfort zone. He shows that he appreciates that Hashem has blessed him to be in this school, where he will receive a proper chinuch and be guided and nurtured toward becoming a proper ben aliyah.

We are all that boy. We all have excuses and reasons why not to, why we can’t, why it isn’t for us. But we need to be like him in the other way as well, ignoring the negativity of the yeitzer hora and responding to the tug of our neshamos and the shofar, which call on us to propel ourselves further, doing better, working harder, and leading a meaningful and productive life.

The greatest tragedy is when a person becomes unaware of, or indifferent to, his own abilities and begins to believe that he won’t realize his dreams and doesn’t even bother to make the attempt. The Daf Yomi cycle starts a new masechta and he really wants to try to get on the bandwagon and begin learning masechtos as he sees others doing, but he gives in to the yeitzer hora’s arguments that he won’t understand it anyway, and even if he does, he will soon forget it, so why bother expending the effort? Meanwhile, his friends are marching through Shas and he is checking out everyone’s status pictures. He is a nirdom.

The shofar tells us that we need to extricate ourselves from floundering in apathy and cold indifference. The Rambam says that this is accomplished by each person realizing how much latent strength he possesses and the difference he can make.

Lefichoch. Therefore, says the Rambam, when the shofar awakens you from your apathy and you realize what you can accomplish if you would only try, you have the power to tilt the balance of the world and bring it to its tikkun.

Lefichoch is a call to us to exit our bubbles and shelters of selfishness and indifference and to make a difference. The beginning of teshuvah is for a person to accept that what he does makes a difference.

A person must realize that Hashem created him with a purpose and a plan. Until man accepts that he has a calling, he cannot truly serve Hashem. This may be the depth of the reason why the two days of Rosh Hashanah are counted among the Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, even though on Rosh Hashanah we do not stress teshuvah, but rather the malchus of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. On Rosh Hashanah, we do not recite viduy, but reassert the fact that the world has a Creator and He is the world’s King ruling over all. Since He placed us in His world, there must be a reason and a purpose to our existence. Recognizing that is the first step of teshuvah.

The posuk in Tehillim (89:15) that we recite prior to tekias shofar on Rosh Hashanah states, “Ashrei ha’am yode’ei seruah, Hashem be’Ohr Ponecha yehaleichun.” Dovid Hamelech praises the nation that knows the teruah of the shofar. The Medrash (Vayikra Rabbah 29:4) asks why Am Yisroel is deserving of that praise. After all, the nations of the world also know how to blow a shofar.

Perhaps we can explain that while the nations of the world are capable of emitting sounds from the shofar, the second part of the posuk, “Hashem b’Ohr Ponecha yehaleichun,” does not apply to them. They are able to emit sounds from a shofar, but because they don’t follow in the light of Hashem, those sounds don’t provoke them to shake off their sheinah and tardeimah. Thus, they continue being swept along and swallowed up by the havlei hazeman.

Lefichoch. We who follow the “Ohr Ponecha,” the Light of Hashem, are referred to as yode’ei seruah, because the sound of the shofar touches our neshamos and awakens us to follow that light. When the havlei hazeman draw the shades that block the light from reaching us, we become yesheinim. The shofar causes us to roll up those shades and allow the light to shine through. We are then awakened to fulfill our purpose in life.

The Zohar (3:18b) speaks of the merit of the yode’ei seruah, those who know the secret of tekias shofar: “Zaka’ah chulkhon detzadikiya deyadin lekavnah reusah lekamei mareihon veyadin lesaknah alma behai yoma bekol shufrah. Praised are the pious ones who know how to channel the awesome power of the shofar and to rectify the universe on the day of Rosh Hashanah through the sound of the shofar.”

Tzaddikim, the righteous ones among us, hear and understand the message of the shofar and utilize that knowledge to bring merit to the entire world, because that is the purpose of blowing the shofar.

The shofar reminds us of who we are and what we can accomplish. Each one of us has the ability to tip the balance of the cosmos and change the course of the world. The shofar tells a person that he is also a tzaddik, and all are looking to him to utilize his potential to attain greatness and bring salvation to the world.

A person who hears this message is a tzaddik in din. The Heavenly tribunal will pronounce him as zakai, and in his merit, those around him and the world will be saved.

After Yonah was brought out of his tardeimah, the winds continued blowing and the deadly waves crashed against the ship. The other passengers huddled together to figure out why they were being punished so. They asked, “Shel mi hara’ah hazos lonu? Who is the cause of these conditions that are affecting us so terribly?”

Yonah immediately responded, “Ki yodeia ani ki besheli hasa’ar hagadol hazeh aleichem. I know that I am to blame for what is happening to you.”

Yonah was a novi, surrounded by ovdei avodah zarah. Why did he so quickly conclude that he was the cause of the raging storm? There were no doubt other sinners on board. Why was he so sure that it was his fault that the boat was being destroyed?

It was because Yonah understood the lefichoch of the Rambam. He was a recovering nirdom. After accepting the mussar of the captain, he went further, as the Rambam prescribes, and looked at what was going on, as if he himself could bring about the necessary change and the yeshuah to the people on the boat, to Am Yisroel as a whole, and to the entire world.

This Rosh Hashanah, as we hear the song of the shofar, we can think of many role models, human beings who are attempting to realize their potential, rising up to confront the new challenges that keep coming our way.

We should all take a moment to look deep within our own hearts and determine if perhaps we are asleep, oblivious to the great things we could be doing, leaving our talents untapped.

Too often, we concentrate on the negatives, on the problems in our world, on the things going wrong and being done wrong. Yet, despite all that, there are so many good people, so much good being done, so many learning and supporting Torah at unprecedented levels. There are so many baalei chesed and baalei tzedakah, people who change lives because they are not asleep to what is going on and to their abilities. They appreciate the gifts Hashem has given them and entrusted them with, and they utilize them for the purposes for which they were intended, to help others and improve the world, preparing themselves and others for the great day we are all waiting for.

May our tefillos be answered and may this be a year of yeshuos, brachos, hatzlocha, gezunt, parnossah, and nachas, and may the great light finally shine over the yode’ei seruah, as the great shofar is sounded and we will all be gathered to Yerushalayim. Amein.