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By Yosef Shidler

Yom Tov has come to an end here in Toms River, New Jersey. As we sit and scroll through our phones, trying to make sense of the unfolding events, it’s clear that most of us had heard rumors during Yom Tov about what was happening, while some are just learning now. WhatsApp messages, status updates, and websites are flooded with details from the past 48 hours.

For me, it was the first day of Yom Tov. After completing davening at our shul, as many were leaving to go home, a non-Jewish person who assists with our shul’s air conditioning and technical needs rushed in to update everyone on the developing news. The initial reports were nothing short of horrifying: hundreds of lives lost, captives taken, and it all felt surreal. 

How could this be happening? Such an event would mark an unprecedented tragedy in Israel’s history. Perhaps it was exaggerated? I sat in the sukkah with the Rav of the shul, both of us struggling to come to terms with the news. It was simply too unbelievable to accept.

Upon returning home, I shared what I had heard with my wife, who has two brothers serving in the IDF on reservist duty. I urged her to have our non-Jewish cleaning lady contact her brother and confirm his safety. Unfortunately, his response confirmed our worst fears: 600 lives lost, many more injured, hostages taken, and all reservists being called up. My wife returned to the family with tears in her eyes. It was all tragically true.

In moments like these, what else can one do but reach for a Tehillim? My daughters joined me in reciting Tehillim, and we sat in prayer for 30 minutes before realizing that more people needed to be informed. We needed an outpouring of Tehillim from many, not just a few. So, I visited local shuls, informed neighbors, and spoke with a local Rav in the neighborhood. I also returned to my shul, shared the news with the Rav, and posed the question that must have been on many minds worldwide: How is this possible? How can we, as we begin Simchas Torah, be asked to dance and be happy? Now, of all times? Simchas Torah! Is this truly what Hashem expects from us? Shouldn’t we be mourning instead? I simply couldn’t wrap my head around it, and I shared my thoughts with the Rav of our shul. We sat in contemplation, pondering how Jews approached Simchas Torah during the Yom Kippur War 50 years ago.

As I thought about Yom Tov and the prayers on my lips, my mind wandered to a well-known story:

“One year, during the High Holidays, Rabbi Meir of Premishlan’s daughter fell seriously ill. As Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur passed, her condition deteriorated, and it seemed like she was nearing death.

On Simchas Torah, Rabbi Meir joyously celebrated with the Torah scrolls, as he did every year. However, a group of chassidim rushed into the synagogue and informed him that his daughter’s condition had worsened, and he needed to take immediate action.

Rabbi Meir hurried home and entered his daughter’s room. Realizing the severity of the situation, he stepped outside alone and spoke to God in the third person, saying:

‘Master of the Universe, You commanded Meir’l to blow the shofar on Rosh Hashanah, to fast on Yom Kippur, to dwell in a sukkah during Sukkos, and to be joyous on Simchas Torah. I did all of this. Now, You have placed this illness upon his daughter. Meir’l accepts this tragedy with joy, as it is written that one should bless bad events just as they bless good ones. However, you commanded we are not to mix one joy with another.’

At that moment, cries came from the room, indicating that the young woman had broken into a heavy sweat, and her condition had visibly improved. In due time, she made a full recovery.”

Reb Meir said it: one should bless bad events just as they bless good ones. The Lubavticher Rebbe said during the Yom Kippur war – the fact that it’s happening now, during a time when we don’t say Tachnun (prayers of supplication), means that the response needs to be one of joy.

This concept requires deep contemplation. When faced with tragedy, our natural instinct is to cry, mourn, and reach for Tehillim. These reactions come easily and are part of our human nature. Contrarily, feeling happiness in the face of such adversity is incredibly challenging and goes against our instincts. Mourning and succumbing to pain are effortless; finding joy is work.

Yet, as we approached Simchas Torah, we were, obliged to dance, to pray, and to be joyous, even when most of us had already heard about the devastating events, and in Israel, they were well aware.

As I recited the words of Hallel this morning, I did so with a heavy heart and countless thoughts swirling in my mind. How could I sing praises now?

I was reminded of a famous midrash about the Jews singing praises while crossing the Yam Suf. The angels wanted to join in the singing, but Hashem silenced them, saying, “How can you sing while my creations, the Egyptians, are drowning and dying? Yes, the Jews are allowed to sing – they were their tormentors – but these are still my creations. 

The idea of hundreds of our fellow Jews being lost leaves us wondering, how can we sing praises now? How can we be asked to dance, to drink, and to merrily celebrate? As Hashem said, “How can you sing while my creations are dying?” 

It shook me to the core, challenging my understanding of how this could be. How is it conceivable that we are commanded, and we even make a blessing, “asher kidishanu bimitzvotav likro es Hallel” (who has sanctified us with His commandments to recite the Hallel prayer), even in the face of such madness? How can we praise Hashem through this insanity, and how can we be asked to dance? It seemed paradoxical.

My thoughts:

We are at war, and this is not a brief two-day situation that will fade into the background. This is a protracted conflict, one that may involve other countries and will undoubtedly bring more difficult moments and news cycles. The death tolls will continue to rise, and the pain will undoubtably persist.

The question that looms large is not just what actions we will take, but what is expected of us on a spiritual and emotional level. I believe the message Hashem is sending us is that “Simcha Poretz Geder” – joy breaks through all barriers. This is not a time for mourning like Tisha B’Av; it is a time for strength and resilience.

This could have occurred in a month like Av. Perhaps Tammuz would be more telling. But the reality was, it was Tishrei, and on the most joyous day of Tishrei – Simchas Torah. I think the message is powerful.

Yes, it stings, and yes, this is an agonizing moment for our nation. The darkest day for our nation since the Holocaust. But it is also a moment of joy.

Meir’l accepts this tragedy with joy. Finding joy without an obvious cause will require tremendous effort on our part. It requires us to dig into the deepest reservoirs of our faith. It demands that we rise above our natural reactions. Mourning and despair come naturally to us as human beings.

For indeed, how do we combine our emotions of joy and pain together? It’s completely unnatural and unhuman.

What we have witnessed and what we are hearing about is utterly barbaric, plunging humanity to the depths of depravity. It is a nightmarish scene that has unfolded before us, with our fellow Jews being cruelly taken hostage and paraded through the streets of Gaza, stripped of their dignity. Words fail to capture the horror of it all.

In these dark moments, it seems almost impossible to find joy or solace. The words of Tehillim 137 come to mind: “By the rivers of Babylon, we sat and wept.” It’s a haunting reminder of our history. But perhaps, in this instance, that is not the only perspective we should consider. Maybe, just maybe, there is a reason why Hashem has allowed this moment to coincide with Simchas Torah.

In the midst of this turmoil,  we can see the spiritual foxes marching on the temple top. It is precisely in the darkest of times, the Simchas Torah, a celebration of the Torah’s completion and renewal; It is now on this day a beacon of hope, a sign to the resilience of our people.

So, as we grapple with the anguish and despair brought about by these unspeakable acts, we can also hold on to the unwavering belief that Hashem has a purpose for us even in these trying times.  

How do we respond? We respond with an equally unequivocal level of joy and goodness, in a way that has never been seen before, and at a level equal and more powerful than the evil we see. Each of us must find our way to contribute, whether through extra acts of kindness, increased charity, or additional Torah study. It’s not and can not be business as usual. 

“Asher Kidishanu Bmitzvot Likro et Hallel” – to sing praise even in the face of tragedy. For me personally, I have relatives in uniform, and I watch my wife’s brothers heading to the front lines. We are all eagerly awaiting updates, but the most crucial update is within ourselves.

We are Klal Yisrael, the collective Jewish nation, and we are the living embodiment of the mitzvah “Hallel”. We are the legs of the Torah that must dance. We must raise our voices, sing, and call out to Hashem, no matter how painful it may be.

As I circled the Bima on Simchas Torah, I held onto the words we say when taking a Torah out: “ויפצו איביך וינסו משנאיך מפניך” – “Let Your enemies be scattered, and let those who hate You flee from You.” I repeated these words as I danced, making them my prayer. I kept saying them and saying them more. I must have repeated those words hundreds of times.

In the days and weeks ahead, our job it to continue to dance. Simchas Torah may be a calendar date that has come to an end, but we have to rise above our natural emotions and embrace the lesson of this year’s Simchas Torah – that we had the power to be godly, to transcend the natural.

Natural was for us to feel the pain and sit down and mourn. Yet we did not; we, as a nation, danced. We danced not because we wanted to or felt like doing it – we danced because this is what Hashem wanted of us. To go beyond what was normal and what was natural. The essence of the Jew is rising above the confines of this physical world and being Godly. Not limiting ourselves to what’s natural or normal. Our job is to maintain a smile on our faces as we perform acts of kindness and take on new mitzvahs with a renewed fervor. This makes us a Godly people, and a Godly nation.

During the month of Tishrei, we take on extra spiritual commitments. It’s a month when we are spiritually in “Tatty’s home,” and we want to behave our best for Tatty, for Hashem, our king. After Yom Kippur, many of us return to our regular routines. Or at least after Sukkos.

However, the ongoing war and the challenges facing the Jewish nation call us to live in a state of continuous Tishrei. We must keep our spiritual guards up, doing more than what is usual. This is a time for unity as a nation, to accumulate spiritual merits, perhaps even more and even greater than what we did during Tishrei.

We are facing an unparalleled darkness. While yes, we will have men fighting this on the ground level, we as Jews know and have always known our strength is not and never has been in our might.

I am reminded of a student at West Point, NY, the prestigious school of war. He listened to his professor speak about many different countries and their wars and then proceeded to ask why he failed to mention Israel. The professor responded – Israel, there is nothing to learn from – their wars are all miracles. They make no logical sense. There is nothing of logic. 

While names will be called for major intelligence failure, while fingers will be pointed and heads will be called to ask why the greatest intelligence community in the world missed this, in the end, we know Hashem is in charge and Hashem has an ultimate plan. We know that in the end, that plan is for the good.

As we move forward, we must remember that “Meir’l accepts this tragedy with joy.” It is a call to rise above our emotions, to praise Hashem even in the face of adversity, to dance, and to be joyous – each in our own way.

In the days and weeks ahead, we continue to “dance” and “sing the Hallel”. We can continue to be the legs of the Torah in the manor of Simchas Torah. We can hold on to Tishrei and never let it leave us. We stay in “Tatty’s home”.

In to the year we go – with the message of this Simchas Torah – that we have the power to be godly, to go beyond the natural, to dance in the face of tragedy, to praise Hashem when it stings. Even when the pain is at its peak, even as we hear stories of tragedy, Hashem is telling us to dance, to march, and to continue to praise. There will be an end to all of this, as promised by our prophets long ago. It will end for the good. 

Until then, we each have to figure out how to go out of our comfort zones. 

One of my daughters, an 8-year-old, had a meaningful conversation with my wife today. My wife suggested to her to take on a positive action for Eretz Yisrael. She had recently developed an attachment to a non-Jewish singer and said, “You mean like not listening to the non-Jewish music?” My wife affirmed, suggesting she try it for one week. Her response was candid, “But that would be so hard. How could I not do that for a whole week?” My wife gently explained that this challenge was precisely the idea – to step out of one’s comfort zone.

Individually, each of us needs to identify something that challenges us, that makes us a little more holy, a limit within our comfort zone where we often say, “This is where I draw the line.” 

Then, we turn to Hashem, saying, “I can’t – I simply can’t go any further.” 

Confronted with immense evil and unprecedented darkness, we must find a way to cross that line because, in essence, we are all soldiers on the front lines. We stand at the spiritual border of Gaza, and we have all been called to fight. Each of our actions holds profound spiritual significance for the entire Jewish nation and our enduring history.

As a united people, let us continue to dance and never lose hope. Let us persist in our prayers: “ויפצו איביך וינסו משנאיך מפניך” – “Let Your enemies be scattered, and let those who hate You flee from You.” Hashem, guide us Home and restore Your city of Jerusalem to its former glory.

Yosef Shidler is the executive editor of several books and the director of DollarDaily.org. He lives in Toms River with his family. 

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