Festive fun in the sun: Sukkot celebrations in Yerushalayim 5785

Our intrepid YouTuber, Hanassi member Heshy Engelsberg, took his camera round the Kotel and the Mercaz Ha’ir yesterday morning in search of seasonal festivities.  The resulting product gives a true-to-life flavour of Sukkot celebration in the city that, millennia ago, invented the Simchat Beit HaSho'evah -- and which has not forgotten how to celebrate, even in times of trouble.

You can view Heshy's recording yourself by just clicking here. 

The water-drawing ceremony set to music

We've just received from our member and composer Max Stern a charming YouTube clip of his reconstruction of the Water Drawing Ceremony for Beit Hasho'evah: This clip (which lasts one minute and 41 seconds) was made in October 2012. It seeks to describe the ancient ritual prayer for rain in the courtyard above King David's Tomb on Har Tzion.

You can check out this jolly piece by clicking here. Thanks, Max, for sharing this with us.

The holiday that faces both ways: Chol HaMoed Sukkot 5785

Both Pesach and Sukkot are weeklong festivals. In Israel they are seven days in length while in the Diaspora they are a day longer. In Israel the first day is a full holiday while in the Diaspora the first two days are full holidays. The balance of the days of these holidays is called Chol HaMoed—the intermediate, less holy days of the holiday.

This extremely sophisticated concept—days that are holidays but not completely so—is a unique Jewish creation. Unlike the actual full holy days of the holidays, these intermediate days do not carry with them the entire gamut of restrictions on work. In fact, any work that is necessary for comfort or for preventing monetary loss is permissible. However, these intermediate days are not to be treated as ordinary workdays. Unnecessary work, tasks that are easily postponed till after the holidays, lawsuits and other contentious matters should not be pursued during Chol HaMoed. Therefore, in Israel and in many parts of the Diaspora, Chol HaMoed is a vacation, offering some welcome leisure time. Stores and offices are closed; entire families participate in touring, visiting friends and relatives and attending concerts and other forms of entertainment. Holiday clothing and finery is worn and festive meals are served. It is a joyous, sweet time of the year for all concerned, especially for the children who are free of school and their daily routines.

These days are a practical example of the Jewish ability to transform the everyday into the special, and the mundane into the holy. We can understand the concept of Sabbath and the holidays, times when work is inconsistent with the spirit and message of those days. But Chol HaMoed affords us an opportunity to work and not work, celebrate and yet not divorce ourselves from the demands of everyday life. This period has a rhythm of its own, being a time for family and friends, for study and reading, for relaxation and refreshment. But, even so, it is not summer vacation or midwinter break for it remains part holy—and that is what gives it its special resonance and feeling in the Jewish world.

One ancient custom of Chol HaMoed is to pay one’s respects to our great rabbis and scholars. In Israel, and in the Diaspora too the great rabbis, the Chassidic leaders, and the heads of the yeshivot all keep open house, holding court and making themselves available to visitors who may have traveled from all corners of the world to pay their respects to the Torah and its scholars. In Jerusalem, there is a special ceremony of “Blessing by the Kohanim” (priests descended from the family of Aaron), conducted at the plaza of the Western Wall. Hundreds of priests gather there to bless the tens of thousands of Jews who gather at the Wall to receive their heavenly blessing.

During Chol HaMoed of Sukkot, parties are held nightly to celebrate the “drawing of the water” service that took place in the Temple in Jerusalem. The Talmud describes how in Temple times this ceremony was celebrated with song, dance, torches and bonfires, jugglers and performers. The “drawing of the water” from the spring of Gichon, south of Jerusalem, and its libation on the altar of the Temple symbolically marked the beginning of the rainy season in Israel and the prayers for a bountiful rainfall during the winter months.

Though the Temple and its altar are not now present, the celebrations of Chol HaMoed Sukkot have survived and prospered. Throughout Jerusalem’s many neighborhoods, parties and celebrations take place. The Talmud stated that ‘sleep did not find our eyes’ at these festive Chol Hamoed nights. That still is pretty much the case for the young today during these special celebrations.

Shabbat Shalom and Moadim L’Simcha. Rabbi Berel Wein.

Deflation and inspiration -- where physicality balances the spirit: Sukkot 5785

We often experience a feeling of spiritual deflation immediately after we emerge from the exalted atmosphere of Yom Kippur. To plunge directly into the icy waters of  everyday life is a very challenging task. We have just been given an entire day to nurture our souls, to exist as angels without the need to fulfill the requirements of our bodies. So the Lord, so to speak, allows us a more gradual descent into our physical, everyday lives. We are asked to forgo the creature comforts of our homes for a period of time, to dwell in a sukkah, exposed to the heavens and the natural world. 

The sukkah, like Yom Kippur itself, is a place of the soul and not of the body. This is because, no matter how elaborate and luxurious we attempt to make it, the sukkah remains a temporary and exposed environment. While the body is aware of this situation and is somewhat discomforted by it, the soul revels in it. It is in this way that the soul clings on to the last vestiges of Yom Kippur right through to Hoshanah Rabbah, before our bodies return to dominate our lives. 

The day of Hoshanah Rabbah is considered as a High Holy Day in its own right and not merely a regular day of Chol HaMoed.  Though none of the restrictions of Yom Kippur are imposed on that festive day or throughout any of the joyous days that follow the first day of the Chag, the spiritual atmosphere of Yom Kippur is still present, for we are living amongst holy clouds and not in physically strong structures. 

Jews the world over are willing to spend sizeable amounts of money in the fulfillment of the commandments of the holiday of Sukkot. We are all aware that the price of a lemon, an orange or any other citrus fruit at the local greengrocer is of little consequence to us. Not so the price of an etrog! It is not the fruit itself that makes it so valuable to so many. It is our ability to fulfill the will of God through an etrog – itself a gift of God’s bounty – that makes it so valuable as to be almost priceless. 

The physical instruments that we use throughout our lives are a means through which our souls connect to our Creator. Just as the value of an etrog lies in what lies behind it–- in what it represents and who ordained its use on the holiday of Sukkot -- would that we would view everything in life, all of our goods and possessions, friends and families and our society generally, with such a perspective. 

In essence, that is the basis of Jewish thought and the moral code of the Torah. On Yom Kippur we spurn physicality; on Sukkot we learn to use physicality to help to connect us to our Creator. And it is that spirit of understanding our role in this world of eternal values that truly occasions within us the joy and happiness that radiates from the holiday of Sukkot. 

Chag Same’ach, Rabbi Berel Wein

To whom are we crying out?

Only a couple of days ago, fasting and disguised as malachim, angels, we had cause to cry out אַל תַּשְׁלִיכֵנִי לְעֵת זִקְנָה ("Al tashlicheni le'et ziknah": "do not cast me out in the time of old age!"). This emotive petition, drawn from Tehillim 71:9, is one of the most poignant moments of our Selichot services and features right through Yom Kippur.

 Today I found myself wondering: while we call out to God not to cast us away when we grow old, how do we regard our fellow humans? Do we expect God not to cast them out, while we turn our own backs on them and write them off as relics of an earlier time?

People often joke at Beit Knesset Hanassi being associated with "Young Israel" when it has so many members in their seventies, eighties and, yes,even in their nineties. But here at Hanassi we see evidence that everyone's life can be valued and that we can all be called upon to give as well as take, and to contribute to the well-being of our community.

Today I bought a couple of sets of arba minim from Rabbi Jay Karzen, a senior citizen if ever there was one--and an active contributor to life. We had a little chat, he helped me choose the etrogim and I came away feeling that I had gained more than a lulav, a citron and a selection of leaves. I felt proud to be part of a community where old folk are appreciated for who, and what, they are. We shall not cast them out!

Miracles, Teshuvah and the NY Times

This piece, by Hanassi member Rabbi Paul Bloom, was published yesterday in Jewish Link. Thank you, Paul, for letting us republish it here.

On Erev Rosh Hashanah, as households busied themselves with preparations for the three-day holiday, a different sound pierced the air—not the blasts of a shofar, but the wailing of sirens echoing across the country. For nearly an hour, Israelis were urged to take shelter in public and private spaces, or in windowless rooms, as nearly 200 ballistic missiles rained down on Israel from Iran. Miraculously, not one Israeli was seriously harmed. This incredible outcome is a testament to the effectiveness of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) and, many believe, the protective hand of Hashem. 

Interestingly, a cloud cover shrouded much of the country that day—an unusual occurrence for this time of year, evoking memories of the protective cloud that surrounded the Children of Israel during their journey through the desert, thousands of years ago. 

Many may not fully grasp the magnitude of the miracle that unfolded on Erev Rosh Hashanah. Israel boasts three air defense systems, each a technological marvel designed to intercept missiles at various ranges: Iron Dome, David's Sling, and the Arrow system. That night, as Iranian missiles descended upon Israel, all three defense systems were flawlessly activated and executed, working in perfect unison—a feat so complex that the odds of it happening without a hitch are nearly non-existent. 

Had any one of these systems failed, the consequences could have been catastrophic, with hundreds of Israelis potentially killed or injured. Understanding the intricacies of what transpired that night and throughout the ongoing conflict, it becomes clear that the low number of casualties is akin to witnessing a modern-day miracle—similar to the splitting of the Red Sea thousands of years ago. 

Historically, there have always been those who questioned the miraculous nature of such events, whether during the War of Independence, the Six-Day War, or the Yom Kippur War. Similarly, the events of Erev Rosh Hashanah stand as just one of many miracles experienced over the past year. From the interception of hundreds of missiles and drones before Passover to the incredible  detonation of  thousands of pagers and Walkie Talkies to the successful detonation of crucial targets in enemy bunkers, these instances reflect unprecedented military achievements with remarkably low civilian casualties. 

The sirens that night served not only as a warning to seek shelter but also as a divine call for teshuvah (repentance). As Rabbi Wein emphasized in his 69th consecutive Shabbat Shuvah drasha, teshuvah is a personal journey. A journey  that  starts out  with one  small step. Hashem is looking  for that small step, not the the completion of the entire process. Some reach out to those they may have wronged, while others recognize a greater divine orchestration in the events unfolding around them. The miraculous successes of the IDF can no longer be dismissed as mere coincidence or the product of skillful strategy. 

Yet, there remains a segment of the world that fails to recognize these miracles, including major media outlets like the New York Times. In their coverage of Israel's actions, particularly following the elimination of terrorist leader Nasrallah, the Times framed the operation as an “escalation” while eulogizing a man who sought the destruction of Israel. Such biased reporting does a disservice to the truth and reveals a disturbing tendency to sympathize with those who wish harm upon Israel and the Jewish people. 

As we reflect on the three types of sins we must atone for—between man and Hashem, between man and man, and between man and himself—it's crucial not to overlook the latter. The process of teshuvah may begin with small, deliberate actions. 

In Shaarei Teshuvah (Sha’ar Aleph), Rabbenu Yonah presents a poignant parable about a group of prisoners who were digging a tunnel to escape. As they made their way to freedom, everyone successfully broke free except for one man. When the king's guard discovered him, he began to beat this lone prisoner. The question arises: why was the guard punishing him? 

Various interpretations exist, but one key lesson stands out: this prisoner had the opportunity to escape; he simply chose not to make the effort. His failure to act serves as a powerful metaphor for the teshuvah (repentance) process. Often, all it takes to begin our journey toward repentance is a small, intentional effort. 

This idea also resonates with the story of King Achav (Malachim I), one of Israel's most notorious rulers. When Eliyahu Hanavi questioned why Achav’s teshuvah would never be accepted, the answer was clear: Achav made no genuine effort to change. Had he taken even the slightest  genuine step toward repentance, it would have been recognized and accepted. 

Just like the prisoner and Achav, many of us find ourselves held back by our own reluctance to act. The path to freedom and spiritual growth can often start with a simple decision to make that first effort. 

For those who support platforms that promote anti-Israel sentiments, the decision to disengage from such sources is a simple, yet significant act of teshuvah. Excuses for maintaining subscriptions or advertising in biased media outlets do not hold water; the time has come to seek alternatives that align more closely with our values. 

This Yom Kippur, may we all come to recognize the miracles that Hashem has performed for the Jewish people over the past year. Let us take those small steps toward teshuvah, collectively accelerating the journey towards our final  redemption.

Different in every way: Yom Kippur 5785

Tomorrow evening sees the start of Yom Kippur, the quintessential and unique Jewish holy day of the year.  All the other holidays that our God has given to us, as a faith and as a people, have their parallels in non-Jewish life.  All peoples have national independence days, harvest festivals for thanksgiving, celebrations of victories and historic moments of salvation. Naturally, though we have holy days of this genre, ours are far different than theirs: ours are accompanied by specific biblical commandments as to how the day is to be observed and what holy rituals, special foods and unique prayer services are to be attached to them as an integral part of the commemoration of that day.

 We can see that the concept behind days like these, such as Pesach, Shavuot, Succot, Chanukah and Purim, have characteristics that are universal, features that can be said to apply to other nations in the world. This is even true of Rosh Hashanah, since every culture has some sort of day to begin the New Year, whether it be on the solar or lunar calendar.

But Yom Kippur is different in every way; it has no equal anywhere in human civilization or history. There is no other day on the calendar that so strongly grasps the attention of Jews to the relationship between the God of Israel and His people, as does the day of Yom Kippur. This day is a gift from God to the people of Israel. Throughout all the millennia of its existence it has remained an exclusively Jewish concept and holiday. 

The concept of forgiveness per se is itself a novel and even surprising one. After all, whatever a person has done has a finality to it. There are always consequences that are derived and emanate from human behavior. It is almost illogical to think that there is any way in which the past can be undone, that wrongs can be righted, foolishness and sin being erased as though they never happened. These propositions are indeed true in human terms. 

Humans have the power to forgive, but never the power to retract or correct what was done before. But Heaven is operating in a manner that is far beyond our understanding and our ability to judge. The unlimited power of the Almighty seems to include the retroactive ability to erase what happened before, and, the capacity to change those consequences, ordained by our previous behavior, which were deemed to be immutable. 

This idea is the expression of the will and mercy of Heaven, extended to us as put forth in the words of that great prophet, Yechezkel: “The Lord does not wish for the death of human beings due to their sins, but rather wishes that they repent of their evil ways and thereby live.”  The Lord is the master of second chances. This is a rare and uniquely Jewish idea: it opens the way for regrets and rehabilitation, restoration, and accomplishment. Without such ideas, and without such an understanding of the Creator, we would truly be bereft of hope and confidence in our future and in our very lives. 

But this great gift must be earned. The Torah does not offer us a free lunch under any circumstances. Yom Kippur comes with a list of requirements—not just for the day, such as abstaining from food and drink and so forth, but also requiring a complete change of heart and attitude, and true regret on our part for the missteps of our past, and certainly for those of the past year. 

We have all been sorely tested in this past year, with unexpected plagues and tragedies, and a complete change in our societal lives and even our economic fortunes. The events of the past year should certainly have humbled us, making us think twice before we again boast of our abilities and achievements. It hopefully has made us less arrogant and dampened our egos. And that should be viewed as a good thing, for the beginning of repentance is always the feeling of humility and a certain degree of helplessness. We are, after all, but flesh and blood—mortal and frightened, alone and powerless before forces over whom we exert no influence or power. 

We can only ask the Lord that mercy and patience should be extended to us, and that we will try in this coming year to live up to the great challenges and demands that Jewish life imposes upon us. Additionally, we should seek to view these challenges and demands as opportunities, and not as negative trials. 

Shabbat shalom and an easy fast to everyone, Rabbi Berel Wein