“Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Lend Me Your . . . Year!”
Shemini Atzeret–Simchat Torah 5784
By Dr Jeffrey Seif
Executive Director, Union of Messianic Jewish Congregations
In “Julius Caesar,” William Shakespeare takes the liberty of creatively putting the following words in Mark Anthony’s mouth: “Friends, Romans, countrymen; lend me your ears.” In the drama called life, Judaism takes the liberty of representing the Creator pleading with his creation: “Friends and Hebrew countrymen lend me your year.” Okay, I made it up. . . . Doesn’t exactly say that. Judaism does, however, beckon constituents to give Torah an ear for a year.
In the Diaspora, Shemini Atzeret (the eighth day of Sukkot) is followed by Simchat Torah (joy of the Torah), during which time the faithful focus upon and celebrate the Torah. Interestingly, God’s people are actually required to rejoice in the process—difficulties notwithstanding. Commenting on the mandate ve-samachta be-chagekha (that is, “you shall rejoice in your festival”), the Gaon of Vilna opined it was “the most difficult command in the Torah”—for obvious reasons. Harking to the command’s adherence amidst the turbulence of extremely trying times, Elie Wiesel commented that, even during the Holocaust, when it was “impossible to observe” the requirement to “rejoice,” Jews nevertheless “observed it” and rejoiced (Paul Steinberg, Celebrating the Jewish Year: The Fall Holidays [Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2007], 149). How does one do that amidst the turbulence of such trying times?
The notion of making oneself rejoice is hard to fathom. Seems one must possess a strong internal locus of control and have some object to focus upon besides one’s circumstances. Bounced around and affected as we too often are by external circumstances, we do well to focus on something beyond our circumstances. Focusing energies on something external helps stave off deleterious internal emotions that can plunge us into disorientation and despair. In Judaism, we are exhorted to make God’s Word the object of focus and adoration.
In Israel, Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah are combined into one day, with Simchat Torah marking both the end of the annual cycle of Torah reading (in Deuteronomy) and the restarting of the reading cycle for the new year (in Genesis). This public Torah reading tradition actually began in the Talmudic era (around the sixth century CE), with a pattern called the “Palestinian triennial.” Unlike our current one-year reading cycle, the triennial took three years to complete. Babylonian Jews, however, didn’t abide the lengthy practice followed in the land of Israel. By contrast, they divided the portions into the 50+ segments we call parshiyot—referencing segments of Masoretic texts in the Tanakh. In 1988, the Committee on Jewish Law and Standards of the Conservative Movement ratified and expanded the 50+ weekly reading segments, with their now being standard fare in Jewish communal experience.
Steady and disciplined exposure to biblical literature over time has an ameliorating impact on human experience. Mindful of that, we would do well to challenge ourselves—and others—to take seriously the demand to give God a concentrated year of Torah study. Were we to do so at the start of 5784, and keep a journal in the process of our so doing, we would discover that, in ways, we would be a different and better person by the time we get to 5785. Try it. Without detracting from the point I am trying to make here, it is worth noting the original intention of the holiday was different—though human betterment was indeed the object.
The maftir (concluding reading) for Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah is Numbers 29:35–30:1. The text recounts the mandate for the eighth day celebration. Recollecting the Torah isn’t mentioned. There, Israel is beckoned to cease from day-to-day labors and assemble before the Lord at the Mishkan / Beit HaMikdash (v. 35), bring special, seasonal sacrifices (vv. 36-38), and properly prepare those sacrifices along with those that are not season-specific (v. 39). The biblical tradition is tethered to bringing a Temple sacrifice; the synagogal tradition—noted above—is tethered to making a sacrifice: both are understood to pay great dividends.
New Covenant believers rightly understand Yeshua—the Word made flesh—to be the ultimate sacrifice. What too many believers miss, however, is the need to personally be sacrificial after receiving the ultimate sacrifice. For this, assembling proximate to the Word on a weekly basis is adjudged to be meritorious, as is paying ongoing attention to biblical revelation. Doing so elicits new and improved life forms around and within us.
On the Feast’s last day, Hoshana Raba, judgment decisions are said to have run their course. It is said: “During the festival of Sukkot the world as as a whole is judged for water, and for the blessings of the fruit of the crops” (Eliyahu Kitov, The Book of Our Heritage [Jerusalem / New York: Feldheim, 1978], 204; cf. 211-214). Interestingly, Yeshua’s word during Sukkot in John 7 seems to corroborate the point (see vv. 2, 8, 10 and 14). In vv. 37–38, John notes: “On the last and greatest day of the Feast, Yeshua stood up and cried out loudly, ‘If anyone is thirsty let him [or her] come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture says, out of his [or her] innermost being will flow rivers of living water’” (TLV). To paraphrase, Yeshua said: “Hey—you want water and refreshment? Come to me!” He is the source of the water.
I heard him and came to him years ago. I know I need to keep on coming. . . . As we walk through 5784, let’s make frequenting our congregations a priority. Let’s take bringing forth the Torah seriously and let’s practice the implications of the words noted in it and expounded from it. It is my prayer that you as an individual, and we as a collection of congregations, be sufficiently watered and grow in the coming year. Give him your ear this year. You’ll be so glad you did.