Open letter to Simchat Torah 5785 | The Jewish Press – JewishPress.com | Rabbi Zolly Claman | Tishri 20, 5785 – Tuesday, October 22, 2024

Dear Simchat Torah 5785,

I don’t know what to do with you this year.

You have always been my favorite day. You have always been the day on our calendar that represents infectious joy. The joy of Torah, the joy of feeling special and chosen. Dancing around us Bima Holding the Torah in our arms, all the children around us wide-eyed, with their flags and signs imprinting their love of Torah for the next generation, was the most special moment of my year.

I will dance this year, but how could I dance on a day where dancing led to bloodshed? How can I avoid the flashbacks of all the videos and testimonies I’ve seen and heard from Nova? How can my joy be boundless when I know exactly what the families of the victims will feel that same day?

This year I will cry, but how could I cry on a day literally called “the joy of Torah”? Is there room for tears when our tradition calls us to rejoice?

Forgive me if I laugh when I should cry. And forgive me if I cry when I should be laughing. I always knew where to place my feelings in Simchat Torah, but now the lines are blurring. You used to be so simple; Now you’re complicated.

This year the Torah will feel different in my arms. Not easier, not harder, but full of stories we know all too well – the stories of exile and return, of brokenness and healing, of joy and tragedy that walk side by side. I will definitely dance, not because I can forget the pain, but because every step reminds me that joy must come with sadness. Perhaps this year the dance will be more of a prayer than a celebration.

And yet we will finish reading the Torah and rewind to the beginning, as we always do. Even though it feels like we are trapped in the middle of an endless chapter of pain, teach us that the story never really ends. Ready – a new beginning, even in chaos.

I can imagine that this must be difficult for you too. How could you be overshadowed by such tragedy on a day full of light and solemnity? I am sure that you never wanted your joy to be marred by violence and for your dance to be remembered alongside bloodshed. You have always carried our laughter, our hope, our unity – how difficult it must be for you now to also carry our sadness.

But I will hold on to the Torah as I always have. In his ancient words there is room for everything: my laughter, my tears, my confusion and my hope. And perhaps the dance continues even in the most broken moments.

Intertwined with tears and joy,
A Jew looking for light