BS”D
CONTINUOUS CARRYING: SHAVUOT
Shira Smiles shiur 2020/5780
Adapted by Channie Koplowitz Stein
In our Yom Tov
Mussaf prayer, we say, “Vahasiyanu Hashem Elokheinu et birkat moadecha…/
Bestow upon us/Enable us to carry, Hashem, our God, the blessings of Your
appointed Festivals...” The Tolna Rebbe makes an interesting observation about
carrying. When one has been carrying a heavy load, after one puts own that
load, he will still feel its weight for a while. What we are asking of Hashem
here, writes the Tolna Rebbe, is that Hashem help us take the blessings and
light of this yom tov with us after we ‘put it down’ at the close of yom tov.
The successful yom tov is one whose spirit stays with us after the yom tov
itself is gone. After all, writes Rav Biederman, Shavuot represents the
symbolic wedding of Hashem to Bnei Yisroel
When you go to a
wedding, it may be difficult to tell who the chatan is. After all, everyone is
dressed in their best clothes. But the next day, the one who remains in his
best clothes and has not changed into his work clothes is the chatan, for he
has taken the wedding with him to celebrate at least during sheva brachot. Our
special wedding clothes for Shavuot is the Torah. Our key word in this Mussaf
passage is Hasiyanu, a word closely related to nisuin, the
marriage ceremony. If we are to retain that special relationship with Hakodosh
Boruch Hu, we must still be wearing the Torah even after the yom tov ceremony.
But how do we achieve this?
Rebbetzin Smiles
presented a wonderful metaphor for this situation. We all go shopping.
Sometimes we enter a store with a list of what we will buy. In that case, we
usually walk out of the store carrying a purchase. But sometimes we go
into a store just to enjoy the displays. When we have no intention of actually
making a purchase, when we are merely window shopping, it is unlikely that we
will take anything with us when we exit the store. Similarly, when we enter a
yom tov, we should also enter with some expectation that we will leave with a
continuing uplifted experience.
Since Matan
Torah is compared to a marriage, several customs have developed at weddings
to resemble a reenactment of the Sinai experience. When escorting the bride and
groom to the chuppah, many parents carry candles or torches,
representing the flames surrounding Har Sinai. And the chuppah is
bedecked with flowers, as the mountain had vegetation. Some have the custom for
the groom to go forward to greet the bride and escort her personally to the
chuppah, as our Sages say Hashem came down from His throne to meet us at the
mountain.
There is also an
interesting variation to the reason for breaking the glass under the chuppah.
The broken glass represents the first set of luchot that were broken.
According to our tradition, had we received the Torah completely with the first
set of Tablets, a person would remember every bit of Torah he learned. When the
luchot were broken, forgetfulness entered and we often forgot what we
had learned. In a nod to our human nature, Rav Biederman teaches us that in a
successful marriage, husbands and wives often need to “forget” the foibles of
their spouse.
The language of our wedding ceremony also mirrors our relationship to Hashem,
writes Halekach Vehalebuv. When placing the ring on his bride’s finger,
the groom says, “Harei at mekudesht li../You are sanctified unto me...”
In introducing the instructions in preparation for receiving the Torah, Hashem
declares, “Vihiyisem Li segulah...Va’atem tohiyu Li mamlechet
kohanim/You will be unto Me the most beloved treasure… And you shall
be to Me a kingdom of ministers (priests)...” Our role is to serve
Hashem.
In Matnat Chaim
Rav Mattisyahu Solomon raises an interesting question. If those first luchot
were broken, should we not celebrate receiving the Torah on Yom Kippur, the day
Moshe brought down the second set of luchot? But when we analyze the
gift of Torah, we understand that this is really a double gift. Hashem gave us
the ability to observe the mitzvoth of the Torah, a gift He also gave to our
Patriarchs even before He actually gave the Torah. Our Patriarchs observed the
Torah completely of their own volition, without being commanded. However, when
we accepted the Torah and agreed to abide by its laws after having been
commanded to do so, we entered a higher realm of our relationship with Hashem
and were gifted with the ability to affect and alter creation. We became invested
in being Hashem’s partner. From the moment He chose us and we accepted, we
became sanctified through the mitzvoth, and that sanctity carries through from
the first brachah of Kiddush until the final brachah of Havdalah. It elevates
every mitzvah of the day, and indeed changes our perspective in life and
invests all aspects of our life with sanctity. For example, if we drop some
money and have no hope of retrieving it, we automatically hope that some poor
person will find it and be helped. This spirit of sanctifying the mundane was
infused into us even with broken luchot. It was given to us as we chose
to do Hashem’s will even after we were commanded to do so.
The root of hasiyanu,
siya, also means fire, and we pray that Hashem will help us keep the
fire of Sinai burning within us even after the close of the holiday.
One of the six
daily remembrances Hashem requires of us is to remember our stand at Mount
Sinai. We are to remember that Hashem spoke to us from within the fire. But if
we are to remember the experience and indeed cherish it as we do, why did
Hashem have to put us “under the mountain,” making it impossible for us to
reject the Torah on pain of death? Rabbi Biederman tackles this question. He
explains that perhaps Bnei Yisroel would have been frightened by the fire and
refused to accept the Torah. While we may then argue that perhaps Hashem should
have eliminated the fire, Rav Biederman suggests that the only way to transmit
Torah effectively is through fire, through passion. We must take that fire that
may have initially frightened us and infuse our mitzvah performance with its
heat and passion,
Judaism is not
just about laws, rituals, obligations and sins. Torah is specifically about the
fire. What Hashem wants is our heart, reminds us Halekach Vehalebuv, Rav
Gedaliah Schorr. It is not enough to perform every mitzvah, however
meticulously. An automaton can do that. Hashem wants the human heart, the fiery
passion, the love of the mitzvah because it builds our relationship with
Hashem. The goal of the redemption and ultimately of being at Sinai was veavi
etchem eili/that Hashem will bring us to Me.
Interestingly,
both the first and the last commandments/utterances are not commandments of
action or refraining from action, but are commandments for the emotion, for the
heart, writes Rav Rothberg in Moed Labinah. They parallel each
other in that the first commandment connects man’s heart to God while the final
Commandment connects his heart to his fellow man; the first proclaims his
belief in God and the tenth prevents him from coveting anything that belongs to
his fellow man. All the intervening commandments must also include
the heart, otherwise they are faulty. On Shavuot, the sense of passion for the
mitzvoth, for Hashem, must be heightened. Anochi, the first Commandment,
is about making room for Hashem down here, within me. Though shalt not covet,
on the other hand, is about transferring our desire for earthly things upward
toward a desire for Hashem. Bringing Hashem down and elevating your desire up
creates the connections where the two can meet.
But it is
important to plan to actualize that connection. Prepare appropriate books or
sefarim that you would enjoy or other Torah based material that will help you
make that connection. [Even preparing Torah based quiz games of any style would
be helpful, especially with children. Jeopardy anyone? Twenty Questions? CKS]
The preparation is
not only for our personal benefit, but for the benefit of all who look to us
for guidance, whether it is our children, students, even neighbors and
acquaintances. [We are even models to strangers who look at us and generalize
from us what a Jew is and does. CKS] It is these people who should see the
light and warmth in our passion for Torah observance, rather than a ritualistic,
destructive force, writes Rabbi Soloveitchik.
That sense of joy
burst forth in song from the Levite family of Kehat who did not serve in the
actual Sanctuary. Instead, they carried the holiest vessels, like the Ark, on
their shoulders. That same word, vayisu/they raised (upon their
shoulders) is also used to raise your voice in song, writes the Tolna Rebbe. We
too desire to raise our voices in song for the blessings of these holidays. In
fact, the entire Torah is referred to as a song, as Hashem commands Moshe
before his death to record and write this song, this Torah. Perhaps that is why
students sitting in the Beit Medrash often immerse themselves in the melodies
associated with Torah study. One must learn Torah with the sweetness of honey
and the nourishment of milk. Even Sinai itself burst forth in dance, as the
verse in Tehillim states, “Kol Hashem yachil midbar/At the
voice of Hashem the desert started dancing (machol/dance).
In what ways is
the Torah like song? Rabbi Bernstein notes that while Torah is indeed an
impressive legal tome and a narrative of history, it must not remain in the
realm of intellectual facts. Torah must rise to an emotional level that touches
our hearts. Music too is comprised f individual notes that come together, but
when the notes are joined and heard together in harmony, they rise above the
intellectual arrangement and touch the heart. And just as a song affects and is
interpreted differently by each person, so does Torah interact with each person
differently.
Just as the Leviim
sang when they carried the Aron Kodesh on their shoulders, so too was there
other singing by those who carried the Ark later in our history. Rabbi Reiss
notes that towards the end of the era of the Judges, the Philistines had
captured the Ark. Having suffered as a result, the Philistines decided to
return the Ark to Bnei Yisroel. They paced the Ark in a new wagon that was
being pulled by two cows. There would be no one guiding the cows, yet the cows
went directly/vatisharnah/in a straight manner to the land controlled by
Bnei Yisroel. Homiletically, Rabbi Reiss translates vatisharnah as they
sang, from shira/song. If even animals can sing while carrying God’s
word, certainly we need to be joyous with His word and His mitzvoth.
Torah study and
observance is not meant to be limited to an intellectual exercise. As the Sefas
Emes notes, we say, “Petach libi letoratecha/Open my heart to Your
Torah. In our final judgment, we will be judged not just by how carefully we
observed the mitzvoth, but especially how much of our heart we invested in its
performance.
Song enables one
to see with clarity, posits Ba’Avodat Moadei Hashem. Do we sing, are we
joyful at this, our anniversary with Hakodosh Boruch Hu? Sing your tefillah,
sing your Torah learning. Hashem, help us feel that You are our God and are
always with us. Make a practical commitment to one small change to actualize
this feeling. Make our Torah meaningful.
Rabbi Biederman
asks a wonderful question to explain this point. What tailor works for nothing?
While we may think that if he sews a garment as a gift for a loved one, he is
working for nothing, that is not the case. The tailor who truly works for
nothing is the tailor who forgets to put a knot to secure his thread when the
garment is finished. The whole garment will unravel and his work will have been
for naught. This is like the Torah observant Jew who does not add joy and song
to the garment he weaves of his Torah study and mitzvah observance. May we all
wear wonderful, new, beautiful garments and celebrate our yom tov with great
joy.