The significance of Shemini Atzeret, the "last days" of this long Sukkot festival, was explained by our Rabbis by means of an interesting and quaint story. G-d to Israel: Kashah alai p’ridatchem... hisa’akvu me’at. "Parting" brings to mind another scene, a scene which is touching and full of pathos. For if parting is, as Shakespeare would have it, "such sweet sorrow," we realize that it entails more sorrow than sweetness. Such a sorrowful scene, not unmixed with the sweetness of sympathy and tenderness, took place between the Prophet Elijah and his student, who was to him more like a son than a stranger — Elisha. Elisha turns to Elijah after *esheqah na l’avi u’l’imi va’eilchah acharecha*. And then the time comes when they must part, when Elijah, tired after a life of wandering and battling for the supremacy of the Word of G-d, must respond to the Heavenly Call which summons him to retire from life in a whirlwind. And here Elisha, young and still frightened of the horrendous tasks that face a prophet, must see his beloved teacher — indeed, the man who was his father (*avi, avi*) — leave this life.Elijah espies the anxiety in the eyes of his beloved Elisha and says: *She’al ma e’eseh lach b’terem elakach mei’imach*, “Tell me, my son, what can I do for you now, as I am being taken away from you and leaving you on your own?” And Elisha, looking in adoration and love at his departing older friend, summons up all the emotion in his frail frame and cries, with the true spirit of a prophet: *Vihi na pi shnayim b’ruchacha eilai*, “Master, let me have twice your spirit.” And Elijah answers him, saying: *Hiksheita lish’ol*, “You have made a difficult request, but *im tireh oti lukach mei’itach, yehi lecha kein*,” “if you can see me after I am gone, then your request is granted.”How strange, is it not, that young Elisha should ask for twice the spirit of Elijah? Would he not have been satisfied with accomplishing what his teacher did? Why did Elisha feel he needed *pi shnayim…

Despite the gaiety and joy which attaches to this Shmini-Atzeret-Simchat Torah period, the pathetic figure of Moses dominates the theme of this holiday. In Zot Haberachah, the last sidra of the Torah which we read during this holiday, we meet up with Moses as he prepares to die. And Moses, despite the loftiness of his prophecy, the heights of his spirit and the nobleness of his whole life, is essentially a warm and profoundly human being. He wanted to live. He found it difficult to reconcile himself with God’s notice that he would die here, overlooking the Land of Israel, and that he would not live to set foot in it. And how he begged God for just a bit more, for just that bit of nachas to be able to feel this Promised Land under the soles of his feet! If not alive, let them take my ashes there. If not as leader, let me enter as an ordinary Jew. And God says, No, my son, veshamah lo ta’avor, you cannot enter it, neither as leader, nor alive, nor even dead (Sifri, Yalkut Shimoni). And then the pathos and beauty of this scene are made even greater as our rabbis picture Moses, acting under Divine command, writing the last words of the Torah, and writing – not with ink but with his own tears – the words vayamat sham Mosheh, “And Moses died there,” there, on the eastern bank of the Jordan, and buried there, there on the eastern bank of the Jordan, and not in the beloved, Promised Land.Now our rabbis, when reading and studying this portion which we have just described, made some very interesting remarks which are somewhat astonishing. Darash Reb Samlai: Torah techilatah gemillat chasadim vesofah gemillat chasadim. Techilatah, dikhtiv ‘vayaas Hashem Elokim laadam ule’ishto ktonet or vayalbishem’; vesofah, dikhtiv ‘vayikbor oto bagai’ (Sotah 14a). The Torah begins with an act of kindness and charity on the part of God and ends with the same. The beginning act of Divine generosity is where God makes clothing for Adam and Eve, and dresses them, after their sin. And the final…

The distinguishing feature of every Jewish holiday is simhah, joy or happiness. The Torah commands us: Ve’hayita akh sameiah, “And thou shalt be altogether joyful!” Now, while this particular commandment is included in the Torah’s legislation of the festival of Sukkot, there is no reason to restrict it to that holiday. Indeed, the mitzvah of simhah applies to every holiday. It is somewhat astonishing, therefore, to discover that the Talmud finds it necessary to apply the requirement of simhah specifically to the present holiday, that of shemini atzeret. Thus the Talmud (Sukkah, 48a) says: le’rabot leilei yom tov ha-aharon le’simhah, that the commandment to be happy on the holiday includes not only the first days of Sukkot, but the last days – which means shemini atzeret – as well. (What makes this Talmudic statement even more surprising is the fact that the word akh, as in ve’hayita akh sameiah, is usually understood le’ma’et, to be exclusive; that is the word akh or “only” usually means to restrict what follows. In this case, however, the Talmud understands it in the reverse: le’rabot, you must be happy not only on the first day of the holiday, but le’rabot, it must be inclusive and extend to the last holiday as well). Why the necessity for emphasizing simhah even on atzeret? Perhaps we can understand it by a story that the Talmud elsewhere (Yoma 21b) tells of a popular custom that used to take place as soon as the entire Sukkot holiday, including shemini atzeret, was over and done with. People would gather about the Temple, and ha-kol tzafin le’ashan ha-maarakhah – everyone would peer intently at the column of smoke that would rise from the altar, where the logs were burning so as to provide a source of fire for the sacrificial service. As the column of smoke rose, all eyes would be glued to it, to see which way the wind would blow it. If the column would blow to the north, then the poor were happy and the well-to-do farmers were sad, for a north wind indicated t…

Shemini Atzeret marks the end of the period of judgment. Be’rosh Hashanah yikatevun, u-ve’yom tzom kippur yehatemun – on Rosh Hashanah, God’s decree is inscribed in the Book of Judgment, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed. But, according to our tradition, there is yet one more period for final appeal, that from Yom Kippur to Hoshanah Rabbah, known as the Yom ha-hotem ha-gadol, the day of the great or final seal. All those cases which remain doubtful on Yom Kippur, those people whose repentance is still in question, have yet these extra few days until Hoshanah Rabbah, which we celebrated yesterday, to mend their ways and to determine the course of the year for themselves. Thus, Shemini Atzeret is the end of this complex period of introspection and judgment during which the question of life is determined: mi yihyeh u-mi yamut, “who shall live and who (Heaven forbid) shall die.”And yet, surprisingly, the Sages did not consider the rest of the year judgment-free. They did not restrict the activity of divine judgment only to this High Holiday season. The Talmud (R.H.16a) records two opinions. R. Yossi maintains that Adam nidon be’khol yom, man is judged every single day. R. Nathan goes even further: Adam nidon be’khol shaah, man is judged every hour.But if man is judged every hour, why every day? And if every day, why every year?A most interesting answer is to be found in the Jerusalem Talmud, which reconciles all opinions by telling us that Adam nidon be’khol yom refers to parnasah, that our judgment every day refers to our livelihood; whereas Adam nidon be’khol shaah refers to akhilah, that we are judged every hour on the fact of our eating.What does this mean? What is the difference between parnasah and akhilah, between livelihood and eating or living?It means this. There are three kinds of judgment to which man is subject: on the High Holidays, he is judged for his hayyim, Life – whether he shall survive or not. Be’khol yom, every day, he is judged on his parnasah, his …

Last year, it rained in Moscow on Simchat Torah. Nevertheless, thousands of young Jews and Jewesses were not deterred; they came and they sang and they danced for hours. We who have come this evening are determined to do no less. We shall not let the rain dampen our spirit, even if it drenches the flesh. I think you will agree with a bargain I am willing to strike with the Almighty: keep open the flood-gates of Heaven and let it pour tonight -- provided you also open wide the doors of Russia and let our fellow Jews stream out in their hundreds of thousands. Indeed that is precisely why aroused representatives of New York Jewry are here assembled under the auspices of the Hew York Conference on Soviet Jewry and its 34 constituent organizations. The adult organizations, together with the Student Struggle for Soviet Jewry and other concerned youth groups, express their solidarity with Russian Jewry, and es- pccially its reawakened youth. We are here to express three central themes: sorrow, solidarity, and protest. Unfortunately, there is much to be sorrowful about. Fifty years of Russian repression have taken the ir toll of this once magnificent, creative Jewish community of three million souls. Now, we do not want to indulge in exaggerations. Un- like the Soviet representatives who, in this complex of build- ings of the United Nations, cheapen the coin of international rhetoric, debase civilized discourse, and desecrate the martyrdom of hitler’s victims by comparing Israel’s so-called '1atrocities'* to the barbarous crimes of the Nazis, we shall not turn the tables and be guilty of the same vulgar extravagance. We acknowledge openly: Soviet repression of Judaism is not identical with or in any manner as severe as the Nazi oppression of Jews. What is the difference between them, between Nazi persecution and Russian repression? It is the difference between fire and ice, between burning and freezing. The Nazis burned Jews. Six million Jews were consumed in the flames of…

Earlier this week, a number of people called me to express their very deeply held feelings. Considering the difficult position of Israel, the carnage, the dangers, and the grim outlook, how can we possibly sing and dance when we celebrate Simchat Torah? When all American Jews walk around distraught, depressed, and unhappy, how can we bring ourselves to be cheerful and joyous? Is it not inappropriate to act merry at a time of this sort? I confess that I too am troubled by this conflict of emotions and sentiments. How, indeed, shall we participate in a joyous Simchat Torah when Israeli soldiers have suffered such high casualties? How shall we sing while Jewish mothers weep? How shall we dance while Jewish families in Israel grieve? And yet, shall we act on these sentiments and therefore mute, moderate, or even cancel out our Simchat Torah celebrations? The answer is No, most certainly no. My conclusion issues not only from halakhic considerations, but from my reading of the spiritual judgment of Judaism as well. What is Simchah (joy, happiness)? Maimonides tells us first what it is not; it must never be sikhlut ve-holelut, frivolousness and levity. Rather, true Jewish joy must contribute to avodah le-yotzer ha-kol, it must be a form of service to the Creator of all that exists. We can, I believe, discern at least four specific strands in this complex emotion called Simchah. First, Jewish joy is a sign of emunah, faith. It is an expression of our commitment to the existence of God as the Source of all. Ve-samachta lifnei Hashem Elokecha, we are joyous “before the Lord our God.” Halakhically, the presentation of oneself “before the Lord” occasions Simchah. The very knowledge that you stand in the presence of the Lord, that itself is the greatest source of joy. That is why our happiness is called Simchat Torah, the happiness with the Torah. How happy are we that we are a people of Torah, a people whose base passions are restrained and whose aspirations are refined – by …

Whether we like it or not, Yizkor not only time think of beloved relatives, but also – of ourselves. This solemn moment we not only recollect, but also indulge: introspection. In recalling those whom we loved and no longer here, we aware of fact (to which we are sometimes oblivious in the rush of things) that: we are mortal ourselves. We remember: law of life that life must come to an end, eventually... Today we impress upon ourselves fact that we will not live forever – and therefore life we have left to ourselves (& may we... 120...) is all the more precious to us.

Last week, I met a man whom I had not seen for six or seven years. I recognized him, but I did not recognize him. I was puzzled. Then I realized the source of my confusion: he had grown a beard in the interim. Because of the beard, I did not recognize him, and because of the beard I did recognize him. The reason for this was because he now looked startlingly like his late father!In discussing this with him, I appreciated his inner feelings. He thought to himself: I am now a mature man, and spent a good part of my life carving out for myself my own life, my own personality, my own niche. Now I want to recapture my father’s image and make it my own, not only psychologically and spiritually but, if at all possible, even physically.This otherwise unimportant encounter brought to my mind the problem of two forces that strive for supremacy within each of us: continuity vs. discontinuity, rootedness in the past vs. innovation and novelty, reverence for the old vs. the search for the new. In Hebrew we might refer to these as המשך (continuity) vs. חידוש (innovation). This phenomenon is well-nigh universal.It is in this sense that I consider Shemini Atzeret a metaphor for man. For Shemini Atzeret, according to the Halakhah, has a rather hybrid nature. In one sense, it is merely a continuation of the Sukkot holiday, of which it is the eighth day. In another sense, it is an independent and autonomous holiday in its own right. Thus, the Halakhah teaches that in all ways it is part of Sukkot, except for six laws – represented by the acrostic פז״ר קש״ב – in which it is חג בפני עצמו, a holiday by itself. Hence, like the eighth day of Passover, there is no special mitzvah of appearing in the Temple, as there is on the three pilgrim festivals. And in this sense it is merely the end of Sukkot. But unlike Passover, we recite the שהחיינו on Shemini Atzeret, because it is a holiday in its own right. Thus too, we can understand the two different versions of the name for this festival as …

The theme that dominates these days is that of farewell. Shemini Atzeret comes at the tail end of the Sukkot holiday, which itself is the conclusion of the whole High Holiday season, including Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The Rabbis explain Shemini Atzeret, this one-day celebration at the end of the holiday season, as a special day set aside by God. He may be compared, they say, to a king who invited his children for a feast for a number of days.

Soon to bentch Geshem. Geshem, in ancient agricultural community Palestine, the assurance of good crops, plentiful harvest. Without it: drought, famine, disease... Therefore is symbol of prosperity, economic well-being. Very fact that we recite blessing over geshem and make it a central part of our prayers on this holiday shows that we are not other-worldly, that Judaism not look down upon desire for prosperity. Prosperity is a laudable, praiseworthy goal; provided, of course, that we understand that we are to attribute its attainment to G-d, and that we use it in the ethical and moral ways desired by G-d. That is why we incorporate it into our Tefillos.