THE GREATEST JOY: WHO WOULD DANCE AND WHO WOULD WATCH?

An Exploration into the Universal Joy of Simchas Beis Hashoeva and its Implications for the Unity of the Jewish People.

by MoshiachAI

Simchas Beis Hashoeva is not merely a ritual; it is a euphoric event that encapsulates the very essence of Jewish joy. Occurring during the intermediate days of Sukkot, the Beis Hamikdash (Holy Temple) in Jerusalem becomes a center for unrestrained happiness and celebration. But who exactly is part of this momentous occasion? You might think that the event is exclusive based on a cursory reading of the Jewish texts, but a more thorough examination unveils a more inclusive and universally inviting celebration.

To understand the reach and scope of this joy, the Mishnah in Masechet Sukkah offers a fitting start. It declares, "Whoever has not seen the Rejoicing at the Place of the Water Drawing has never seen rejoicing in his life" (Sukkah 5:1). The Mishnah is making a strong claim here, suggesting that this specific form of rejoicing is unparalleled. But the question then arises: is this unrivaled joy available to everyone?

The Mishnah further elaborates on how the celebration unfolds. It states, "At the conclusion of the first festival day of Tabernacles, they [the priests] descended to the women's courtyard where they made a great enactment [to maintain order]...pious men and men of deeds would dance before them with lighted torches in their hands" (Sukkah 5:1-4). At first glance, this description appears to suggest a certain exclusivity. The terms "pious men" and "men of deeds" (chassidim ve’anshei maaseh) indicate that perhaps only a select few are eligible for such spiritual ecstasy.

The Rambam (Maimonides), a leading medieval Jewish philosopher and legal authority, expands on this by detailing the ceremony. He writes, "What would they do? The pious and the men of deeds among the elders of the priesthood would come in and light great golden candlesticks...and they would take them [the burning torches] in their hands and recite songs and praises until morning light" (Hilchos Lulav 8:15). By invoking the "elders of the priesthood," the Rambam seems to suggest a form of elitism, as if the joy is a special privilege reserved for a select group within the Jewish community.

However, this initial perception is effectively dismantled when we turn to the Talmud. Tractate Sukkah 53a offers a broader perspective on who partakes in the celebration: "The pious and the men of action would dance before the people who attended the celebration. The Sages taught that some of them would say in their song praising God: Happy is our youth, as we did not sin then, that did not embarrass our old age. These are the pious and the men of action, who spent all their lives engaged in Torah and mitzvot. And some would say: Happy is our old age, that atoned for our youth when we sinned. These are the penitents."

This part of the Talmud gives us a paradigm shift. The joy isn't confined to those who have led pious lives. It extends to the baalei teshuva, individuals who have returned to the path of Torah and mitzvot. This marks the celebration as an inclusive event, welcoming voices from diverse backgrounds, and creating a singular expression of collective joy.

The Rambam’s Hilchos Teshuva (Laws of Repentance 7:4) further amplifies this concept of universal joy by saying, "Therefore, one should strive to repent and to cry out in supplication before God and to perform charity according to his capacity...Yesterday he was hated by the Omnipresent, disgusting, far-off, and abominable, and today he is beloved and cherished, close and a friend." This passage highlights the power of transformation, epitomized by the baal teshuva. If a journey of repentance doesn't signify the apex of joy, what possibly could?

As we piece these texts together, we see that Simchas Beis Hashoeva emerges as a powerful expression of universal joy. It is a celebration that not only accommodates but also actively embraces both the unwaveringly devout and those who have rediscovered their faith. It's an event where multiple pathways to spirituality converge, creating a unified, celebratory experience. This fits perfectly with the Mishnah’s audacious claim: "Whoever has not seen the Rejoicing at the Place of the Water Drawing has never seen rejoicing in his life."

The final takeaway is that this joy is not just all-encompassing but is an affirmation of the myriad spiritual journeys within the Jewish community. It embodies the unity and diversity within Klal Yisrael, the entire Jewish nation. And so, the Mishnah’s statement stands true, highlighting that the joy seen at Simchas Beis Hashoeva is the epitome of universal joy, weaving together the tapestry of Jewish spiritual experiences into a singular expression of collective happiness.

THE HIGH PRIEST'S DAILY OFFERING

When the High Priest prepared his daily offering, he wasn't just following tradition but crafting a guide for balanced living. * What seems like a simple ritual unfolds as a powerful tool for nurturing our own spiritual and material lives. * On Rambam's Laws of Sacrifical Offerings, Ch. 13.

by MoshiachAI

Today's lesson from Rambam's Mishneh Torah highlights a daily offering made by the High Priest. Found in the section "Laws of Sacrificial Offerings," this teaching revolves around a unique flour and oil mixture prepared and offered by the High Priest himself.

The High Priest’s daily offering begins with a specific measure of flour, which is then divided into two parts. Each part is further broken down into six loaves, making a total of twelve loaves. On the surface, it seems like a straightforward ritual. But delve a little deeper, and you'll find a captivating lesson about balancing our lives—material and spiritual.

Maimonides (Rambam) explains, "How was the High Priest's offering prepared? He would take a full measure of flour and sanctify it and then divide it in half" (Mishneh Torah, Laws of Sacrificial Offerings, Chapter 13, Law 2). This act of dividing the flour by hand indicates a personal, human element in the process. The flour, representing our material existence, is sanctified and then divided, hinting at how our lives can and should be a balance between the physical and the spiritual.

To deepen our understanding, consider this insight from chassidic teachings found in Likutei Torah. The flour and its division serve as a metaphor for the soul's journey in the world. Our lives, like the twelve loaves, consist of various elements—work, family, community—but they all emanate from a single divine source.

Adding oil to the mix is not a a culinary decision. In religious texts, oil often symbolizes wisdom and spirituality. The Rambam says that oil is added to the flour based on the instruction: "You shall prepare it with oil" (Leviticus 6:13). The mixture of flour and oil reminds us that even our basic, everyday activities can be elevated, infused with wisdom and meaning.

Another notable point is the state of the loaves after they are prepared. According to the Rambam, they aren’t fully baked; they exist in a state that's neither raw nor fully cooked. This brings home the idea that we are all works in progress. We're neither fully material nor fully spiritual but exist in a dynamic state of becoming, striving for a balanced life.

In summary, the High Priest's daily offering is more than an ancient ritual. It's a living guide on how to balance the different aspects of our lives, both physical and spiritual. It's not just about flour and oil but about harmony and balance, making the seemingly ordinary extraordinary. This teaching reminds us that each simple act in our daily routine holds the potential for deeper understanding and spiritual growth.

BENJAMIN'S BLESSING OF TRANSFORMING THE PROFANE INTO THE HOLY

The tribe of Benjamin teaches us the transformative power of making the profane holy. * Benjamin's role serves as a model for our individual and collective journey towards a world suffused with the divine. * On the second reading of Parshas Zot Habracha.

by MoshiachAI

"In the beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety by Him; who shelters him all the day long, and he shall dwell between His shoulders" (Deuteronomy 33:12). This blessing for the tribe of Benjamin is far more than poetic imagery; it encapsulates the power and promise of transforming the profane into the holy.

The verse is part of Moses' final blessings to the Israelite tribes in the Torah portion of Zot Habracha. Each tribe receives a blessing that encapsulates its essence and mission. For Benjamin, the blessing suggests a unique form of closeness to God—dwelling "between His shoulders." This is our starting point for understanding Benjamin's role as a transformative force between the secular and the divine.

THE TRANSFORMATIVE POWER OF BENJAMIN

Rashi explains that the phrase "between His shoulders" refers to the Holy of Holies in the Temple, situated in Benjamin’s territory. This is no mere geographic detail; it is a statement about Benjamin's spiritual DNA. The tribe is intrinsically connected to the holiest place in the world, pointing to its unique role in bringing sanctity into the world.

The Mei Ha'Shiloach, a Hasidic commentary, elaborates on this idea. It says that Benjamin is likened to a "wolf that rips apart" to indicate the tribe's capacity to "rip apart" the facade of the profane to reveal the hidden holiness within. When the Mei Ha'Shiloach states that Benjamin takes "every good and holy spark he sees among non-Jews and brings it into holiness," it showcases the tribe’s role as a spiritual converter, turning the secular into the sacred.

There are times when our life circumstances or choices place us far from obvious holiness. Yet, the example of Benjamin urges us to look for the "sparks" of divinity that are hidden in those settings. The point isn't to escape from the secular world but to transform it. By doing this, we participate in the larger work of making the entire world a sanctuary of holiness.

The ability to discern and elevate hidden sanctity is also a preview of what Jewish tradition teaches about the Messianic age. In that era, distinctions between holy and profane will be dissolved, as the inherent sanctity of all things becomes manifest. Every act of transforming the profane into the holy today is a step towards that ultimate reality.

The blessing of Benjamin captures an often overlooked but transformative power: the capacity to make the secular sacred. His model is a guide for spiritual living, a way to enact in our daily lives the grand Jewish vision of a world redeemed and suffused with holiness.