Shemini Atzeret 22 Tishrei 5768 / October 4, 2007

One of the highlights of Simchat Torah as I was growing up at Temple Israel was Kol HaNearim. In an age when children were not to be seen anywhere near the bima—unlike today, when we welcome them there--, to go up to the bima and be part of that special aliyah for children was terrific. And since I went to day school and was the rabbi’s oldest son, I usually got to stand near the Torah and read the berachot. And so it was with a heavy heart that I endured Simchat Torah in my first congregation where there were few, if any, children present for this special aliyah. Some of the joy of the holiday was absent. In time we evolved a practice similar to the one here at Beth-El, namely we did Kol HaNearim in the evening, when we knew that children would be there.

But the practice of Kol HaNearim, of inviting all of the children to come up for a mass aliyah and stand under a large tallit is but one part of the sweet flavor of Simchat Torah. So beyond asking “How did we come to have this unusual aliyah?” the larger question is “How did Simchat Torah evolve?” How did this addition to a holiday marked by nothing distinctive, to wit Shemini Atzeret, seen as a postscript to Sukkot, how did this postscript to a postscript develop and become an entrenched part of Jewish life? How did its ritual overtake the significance of Shemini Atzeret, and indeed in Israel where but one day is celebrated, the Simchat Torah ritual has been grafted on to the Shemini Atzeret rite and sets the tone for the day.

Perhaps it began innocently enough. Outside of the land of Israel they read the Torah in one year, instead of the 3 to 3 ½ year cycle that prevailed in the Land of Israel and was still practiced a millennium ago. The Talmud already mentions that on this second day of Yom Tov, rather than re-read today’s Torah reading, that the Torah reading was the end of the Torah, the portion of V’zot HaBrachah. (This is the only portion never read on a Shabbat morning.) In time, the person who had the final honor was called Chotayn Torah, the one who finished the Torah. (Here a final nun was used instead of the more common final mem, so Chotayn rather than Chotaym. This is a not unfamiliar pattern, as noted by Daniel Sperber in a short Hebrew essay.)With the passage of time and as the spreading of this custom grew, the word was understood not as Chotayn, but as Chatan: same Hebrew letters, different vowels. [ Chet-Tav-Final Nun.] By the 12^th century or so—the original practice of a Chotayn Torah may be a couple of hundred years older--, we have evidence that there was now also someone called a Chatan, escorted to the reading under a chuppah, for the beginning of Bereshit, of Genesis. In time he would become Chatan Bereshit.

In time, and we aren’t sure when, the practice grew of offering an aliyah to everyone, versus limiting oneself to the five aliyot plust maftir which are normal on Yom Tov. I haven’t found, as of yet, when the practice of Kol HaNearim was initiated. And there also developed hakafot, plus the verses that precede the hakafot, as well, as the unusual practice of reading Torah at night. And in more contemporary times, the merry-making became associated with libations. I remember, for example, our Ba’al Koray having a drink between aliyot. (Fortunately, the custom developed at Temple Israel of having mass aliyot—we did not have multiple Torah readings in those days—and the amount of alcohol he and others consumed was a bit limited. I can assure you, no single malt scotch in those days; probably Seagram’s Seven or Four Roses.) And of course, there were those jelly apples: the joy of parents, dentists, and the house committee everywhere. (Temple Israel gave up on jelly apples after too many were found stuck to the seat cushions in the sanctuary.)

Simchat Torah is an extraordinary holiday. Some 25-30 years ago, Blu Greenberg, the wife of Rabbi Irving, Yitz, Greenberg, could write about smiling as she heard the rabbi of their Orthodox shule saying that they wouldn’t continue until everyone had an aliyah, knowing that the word “everyone” excluded her. But today there are Orthodox congregations where women have their own hakafot and even some in which they have aliyot, if not part of the main service, as in the so-called Hartman minyan in Jerusalem, but in their own service. Simchat Torah has helped break down barriers.

It also clearly concretizes the statement of Pirke Avot, of the Ethics of the Fathers, “Hafoch Bo v’Hafoch Bo, deKulay Bo, turn it over, turn it over, for all is found within.” We finish the Torah and immediately begin anew. Although Judaism early on developed a linear sense of time and of history; unlike the Greeks; in ritual it clearly saw ritual time as a never-ending circle. As Rabbi Jill Hammer notes in a new collection on the Fall Holidays, “Though the words of the Torah are always the same, Simchat Torah reminds us that as we change, our interpretations too may change. Our new commentaries become part of our people’s long-standing conversation with God.” Simchat Torah becomes a fitting paradigm of the cycle of Fall holidays: a reminder of the opportunity of beginning anew; of seeking new directions and new insights.

And though Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret are called Z’man Simchataynu, the time of our rejoicing, it is on Simchat Torah that we truly unloosen; we truly engage in Simchah. Perhaps this is the last burst of energy left after 3 weeks of Yom Tov; perhaps it is because this is the last burst of Yom Tov for months. Not until Purim—until contemporary times Chanukkah was but a blip on the liturgical calendar; not the anti-Christmas that it has become, at least here--, would there be another grand occasion for merriment; for joy. And so we enjoy the festivities whole-heartedly.

And yet here it is still Shemini Atzeret and we are about to recite Yizkor. Yizkor reminds us of the sad part of life; the loss of those precious to us. Today it is nicely balanced with the approach of Simchat Torah. For in remembering those whom we have lost, we can be reminded of the joy we had when they were in our midst. Perhaps a Yom Tov memory or two comes bubbling to the surface today. May we find consolation and joy in our memories of those whom we remember as we recite Yizkor.