By Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

Succos, Z’man Simchaseinu, Festival of our Joy.

It is now three years since the Shemini Atzeres / Simchas Torah massacre of October 7. “We will dance again” became the motto of the Nova music festival.

How ironic. A war that started on Simchas Torah, our day of dancing and rejoicing with the Torah.

We will dance again. Perhaps, without even realizing it, the words are prophetic. The day will come when all Jews will dance again as one people with our Torah.

Simchas Torah, the Joy of Torah. We dance. We sing. We celebrate. We find simcha not just in completing the Five Books, but in the ability to once again start from Bereishis, the very beginning. Following the reading of the final pesukim of the Torah, we call out in unison, Chazak, Chazak, V’nizchazeik, Be strong, Be strong and Be strengthened. Be strong, Be strong and Be strengthened. Even when all looks dismal, we don’t give up. We may shed a tear, or two, but then, with the words of “chazak”, we muster up our strength and celebrate life. This is the strength of Am Yisroel.

It was 5:00 AM. The phone rang, waking both my husband and myself.

“It can’t be good”, my husband said, “Can you get it.” He was right. My revered father-in-law had been seriously ill, and my husband dreaded the possibility of this call. The call was to inform us that his father’s neshamah left this world for a better place. What made the call even more devastating was that the very same day, my husband’s sister, Chanie, was marrying off a son. The family went from funeral, to cemetery, and then to shiva house. All, except Chanie. Despite her inner pain and sorrow, upon guidance from her rov, she went from the cemetery to the wedding hall. To be mother of the chosson. To bless her son and future daughter-in-law. To smile and greet guests. And, yes, even to dance. Only after the wedding, did she join the family in sitting shiva.

How does one go from a parent’s funeral to a child’s wedding on the same day? As Jews, we believe that everything is orchestrated by HaShem. As Shlomo HaMelech writes in Koheles, which we will read on Shemini Atzeres, “There is a time to weep and a time to laugh”. Yes, there is a time to be sad and a time to celebrate.

We celebrate life, and new beginnings. We live with the hope and belief that tomorrow will be better.

As a nation, we experienced our share of suffering. But even in the darkest of dark, we find a shining light. We may be living in a troubled world, but we have faith in a brighter future.

Eli Wiesel wrote of Simchas Torah in a Nazi concentration camp. “Since there was no Sefer Torah, how could they organize the traditional procession with the sacred scrolls? As they were trying to solve the problem, an old man noticed a young boy standing there. ‘Do you remember what you learned in cheder?’ asked the man. ‘Yes, I do’ replied the boy. ‘Really?’ said the man. ‘You remember Shema Yisroel?’

‘I remember much more’ said the boy. ‘Shema Yisroel is enough’ said the man, and he lifted the boy, clasped him in his arms, and began dancing with him, as though he were the Torah. And all joined in. They sang, danced and cried. They wept, but they danced with fervor.”

One can only imagine the pain and suffering, the trauma and tragedies that were endured. Yet, our people strived to find joy and have hope on Simchas Torah. And on Simchas Torah Jews celebrate the privilege of having HaShem’s Torah. And, so they danced, holding a living Torah scroll.

Eli Wiesel’s Simchas Torah story was not the only one that speaks of our nation’s love of children and belief in the future. Little Avrohom was eighteen months old when the Nazis invaded Poland. Wanting to protect him, Avrohom’s parents handed him over to his Catholic nanny for safekeeping, until times would get better. The nanny was quick to baptize him. Avraham became Henrich, and was raised as a devout Catholic.

His parents miraculously survived the Holocaust, and four years later, returned to Vilna to claim their beloved son. It wasn’t easy. The nanny refused to give him up. A long court battle ensued. With gratitude to HaShem, they won. Avrohom was theirs once again.

It was hard at first. Avrohom was taught to hate Jews and openly told his parents so. They responded with love and kindness. On Simchas Torah, Avrohom’s parents took him to the shul in Vilna. A joyous holiday, which they hoped would bring him closer to his religion. As they walked to shul, they passed a monastery. Avrohom stopped to cross himself. Just then, the priest emerged, and Avrohom ran over to kiss his hand. Though deeply pained, Avrohom’s father remained silent. He believed that with time, Avrohom would come around.

The shul in Vilna was a pitiful sight. The Germans did a good job desecrating and defacing the magnificent edifice. The beautiful building lost its glory. Its holy books were destroyed, and there wasn’t a Torah scroll to be found.

In the shul that Simchas Torah night was a newlywed Jewish young couple in search of survivors. The husband was wearing the uniform of a Russian soldier. At one time, he was a Yeshiva bochur, but was taken by the Russians to join their forces. Shyly, he approached little Avrohom. “Are you Jewish”, he asked. He wasn’t sure, since the boy was blond and blue eyed.

“Yes”, Avrohom’s father answered.

To the Torah student turned soldier, Avrohom was a precious treasure. The young couple had traveled many miles to Vilna, without seeing any sign of Jewish life, let alone a Jewish child.

“Can I carry you on my shoulder? Can I dance with you on Simchas Torah?” the young man asked. He lifted Avrohom and danced and danced. He danced with a prayer in his heart that the Torah be passed down mi’dor l’dor, from generation to generation. The young man told the remaining Jews of Vilna that little Avrohom symbolized the future of their nation.

That Simchas Torah experience, and careful nurturing by his parents, left its mark on Avrohom. Slowly and steadily, he grew more and more into his Judaism. Years later, Avrohom became Abe Foxman, Chairman of the Anti-Defamation League, devoting his life to fighting Anti-Semitism and battling for Jewish rights and liberties.

And the soldier who danced with Avrohom? He became Rabbi Leo Goldman, Chief Rabbi of Norway. He later immigrated to the United States, and became a pulpit rabbi in Detroit. And we dance again.

Bucharest, Romania, 1946. Rabbi Yaakov Yosef Twersky, the previous Skverer Rebbe zt”l (1899-1968), his wife Trana, and their family, miraculously survived the war. But shortly before Succos, they suffered the death of their daughter, Feige Malka, after just two years of marriage.

It was Simchas Torah. Even though it was during the Shloshim, the Rebbe danced with much joy, leading others in the hakafos. His Rebbetzin, Trana, couldn’t understand how her husband was able to dance and celebrate after such a tragic loss. The rebbe explained that as a nation, we don’t dance for the past. We dance for the future. We dance with the emunah that there will be a better tomorrow. As hard as it is to believe, the October 7 war is not over. We are still grieving as lives continue to be lost and many more are being injured. It’s not that we will dance again, but we do dance again. We dance amidst the pain, but we dance. We carry our Torah scrolls. Proud to be Jews. Proud to be links in the eternal chain of Am Yisroel.

May we merit to experience a true z’man simchaseinu, ushering in a year of shalom for all of Klal Yisroel.