The many faces of the Torah reveal themselves anew year after year.
By ANDREA SIMANTOVtorah scrolls 88(photo credit: )
When my children were growing up, a tradition developed in our home that clearly had its origins in the Yiddish Theater. My very young children regularly enacted a section of the weekly Torah reading during the Friday night meal, usually somewhere between the hamotzi blessing over the challa loaves and the serving of the matza balls.
Our dining room was separated from the entrance hallway by an arched overhang, and it was upon this makeshift proscenium stage that the Simantov Junior Thespian Society performed.
Our oldest daughter, Gabrielle, always had the leading role, and the other five siblings played various supporting parts, most often appearing as shepherds. (Frequently playing a biblical matriarch, Gabrielle would wear my spike-heeled pumps and feather boas, while the others were clad in earth-tone sackcloth.)
Point being, the Torah can provide imaginative fodder year after year, never the same for any two readers.
For those of us who begin the reading cycle anew each year, it is undoubtedly our favorite book. And although we know how it ends - it's no secret: Moses dies - there is enough mystery hidden between the black letters and white spaces to keep us entranced for countless generations.
And even after we think we "get it" and finally understand the stories and the laws, we discover different interpretations and meanings that surprisingly offer new excitement and challenges.
These are the thoughts that consume me as one year closes and another unfolds. Consequently, I often find myself reflecting on the importance of synagogue life and community. On a personal level, it is easy for me to remember the feeling of security as I sat atop my father's broad shoulders during the seven hakofot (processions) in our local New York synagogue while balancing a poorly pierced apple on the wooden stick of my paper flag. At such a young age, how could I have known that what merely seemed like an annual party was, instead, a carefully constructed rite of passing-on values, imbuing the next tender generation with a timeless tradition?
Giggling under our daddies' prayer shawls, we children were given the opportunity to bless the Torah in a special aliya called "kol ha'ne'arim" - the same aliya that my children received a generation later. Today, it is my grandchildren who squeal with joy beneath the talleisim of their fathers.
It is exciting to rediscover the Torah principles through the eyes of young people. Values found in Torah stories begin to take on new meaning as their relevance to the children's lives becomes apparent. A good example might be the story of Jacob and Esau and the way they made up after being apart for so many years. Discussions of sibling relationship come into clearer focus and can be tailored to the appropriateness of someone's age or level of understanding.
While Hollywood might have its place, nothing surpasses the Torah as an immediate reference guide for connection to the wider Jewish community and, indeed, the world.
In the weeks leading up to Simhat Torah, I found myself scouring local bulletin boards and community Web sites in order to plan the most meaningful celebration for myself and my near-adult children. It soon became clear that the miraculous world of cyberspace has given birth to a plethora of learning opportunities both online and in real-space. People who never felt connected to spiritual learning are suddenly acquiring study partners and well-versed teachers.
My community is heavily populated with Jews who were not born into religious homes and are newly observant. Many of them share similar memories of starting out on a path of more meaningful observance. "The Torah is so restrictive! I'll have to give up my personality! If I mess up, I'll be a sinner!" But as their understanding deepened and they slowly took upon themselves additional mitzvot, most found that their lives became better.
In many ways, Simhat Torah gives all of us the opportunity to recommit to renewing our relationship with the Torah. By understanding that although the pages of the book are worn from loving wear, we are grateful for the immense gift that God has bestowed on us and subsequently recognize the stories as fresh and new.
It is no coincidence that we end and begin the Torah on the same day. The Sages explain: "To show that the Torah is beloved to us like a new object and not like an old command that a person no longer treasures. Since it is brand new to us, we all run to greet it."
We sing and dance for hours around the bima, carry the Torah scroll, and express our joy at having the opportunity to come so close to God. Our task now is to carry that energetic joy throughout the year.
And part of the joy of Torah is wrestling with it and making it one's own. To that end, I'd like to suggest that we enable our children to become Torah scholars. While neither a child psychologist nor an early education specialist, I can humbly offer one insight as to why my children loved to reenact the Torah they learned during the week: Questions were encouraged, and I was never afraid to say, "I don't know. Let me find out." (The worst answer an inquisitive child - or adult - can be given is "Because the Torah says so!")
The new year is just beginning and, with encouragement, children will ask and ask and ask. "How did God make the animals?" "How did God put the people on the ground?" Hopefully, the questions will become more complex over time, and we adults will increase our learning in order to meet the challenges of our children and the children of our friends: "Why did Moses just die on top of the mountain?" "Does anyone even know what God looks like?"
When children ask good questions about the Torah portion, tell them that this is exciting. When adults ask questions, it is also exciting. Tell them, too.
As a parent, friend, neighbor and fellow Jew, refuse to grow complacent in your learning and sharing. Seize upon the joy of Simhat Torah and let it grow within you throughout the entire year. And when our children and/or friends ask, "Did that really happen?" delight in the knowledge that you have helped pave the way for further Torah discussion. And meet the responsibility.
Unmistakably, the theme of Simhat Torah is joy. The Torah text challenges our minds as the whirling and dancing, singing and laughter gladden our hearts.
A final thought: Rich man, poor man
Rabbi Yisrael Meir (the Chafetz Chaim) once tried to persuade a rich man to set aside regular periods for Torah study; but the rich man said, "Rebbe, I'm not able to. I'm keeping extremely busy and never have any time."
"If that is so," said Rabbi Meir, "then you are the poorest of the poor. If you don't even have time, then what do you have?" (from S. Himelstein, A Touch of Wisdom, a Touch of Wit)
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