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.
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