There is a moment in shul on Shabbat morning when I will, unfailingly, be overcome with emotion. That moment is after the Torah has been read and been carefully, lovingly carried back into its physical home in the Ark. We stand reverently, dressed in our Shabbat finery, as we look toward our Torah scrolls cloaked in fine, rich mantels; gleaming silver breastplates; and silver crowns. A royal ensemble.
And then, we sing: Eitz Chayim hi, l’machazikim ba, v’tomheha meushar. . . “It is a tree of life for those who grasp it, and its supporters are praiseworthy.” I love these lines, but the tears begin to flow two lines later, when our voices rise as we sing, Hasheveinu, Ado-shem, eylecha, v’nashuva, chadesh yameinu k’kedem. . . “Bring us back to you, Hashem and we shall return, renew our days as of old.” I know: the English sounds stilted, but the Hebrew is so beautiful and the sound of our communal song is so electric that I can never get those last words out except in a whisper. My tears are flowing. I cannot speak.
We treat the Torah reverently all year long. If the Torah is being moved in shul, we stand until it has been set in place. If someone accidentally drops a Torah scroll, fasting is required as a symbol of atonement. We clothe it in regal garments and accoutrements. We study it, day in, day out. Its life-giving spiritual nourishment is considered a gift, one we are denied only when we are in mourning, such as on Tisha B’Av.
Any newcomer walking into a rowdy, tipsy Simchat Torah celebration might well wonder: is this boisterous partying with God kosher?
Yet on Simchat Torah we sing and dance with these holy scrolls with abandon, excitedly, sometimes chaotically. We may be knocking back a few as we sing of our love for the Torah and for God in merry melodies that seem better suited for the lightest of verses. Any newcomer walking into a rowdy, tipsy Simchat Torah celebration might well wonder: is this boisterous partying with God kosher?
The reason I cry when we sing Eitz Chayim hi and the reason I laugh and sing with joy on Simchat Torah are one and the same. It wasn’t until I also “grasped” the Torah as my chosen life path that I began to see that is really is a tree of life. We live with insecurity and instability. Today all may be well; tomorrow we may face a plague, terrorist attack, social and political upheaval, personal tragedy. We require armed guards at our schools, shuls, and community centers. We are whipsawed by increasingly radical ideologies that threaten our Jewish values and freedom to practice our faith. The Torah and God’s eternal promise to us provide ballast in the storm. And even during calm times, the Torah’s wisdom and guidance help us navigate our most important relationships in life: with spouses, children, parents, and even ourselves.
People often turn to religion when life feels like it’s spinning out of control. During Covid, this happened in the Jewish world, too. Several Jewish outreach organizations with study partner programs faced a surge in demand, including Partners in Torah and Oorah’s TorahMates initiative.
Rabbi Yisroel Mayer Hoberman, co-director of TorahMates, told the Journal that they have seen a nearly 40 percent increase in the number of students and study partners from February 2020 through September 1. “The turbulence of the past couple of years has upended so much that we take for granted in life,” Rabbi Hoberman said. “It has added significant urgency to the search among many people for a meaningful connection to the Jewish community and to the Torah’s wisdom and guidance.”
Our unadulterated joy on Simchat Torah isn’t disrespectful of Torah—it underscores our respect and love. In a fragile world, where today’s “wisdom” will become tomorrow’s refuted and discarded theory, we sing and dance with the Torah and study it because no matter what faces us tomorrow, it will always remain our Tree of Life.
Judy Gruen is a writer and editor. Her books include “The Skeptic and the Rabbi: Falling in Love with Faith.”
