OCTOBER 5 • 2023 | 43
J
N

this precisely. He says that in 
the End of Days, “The Lord 
shall be King over all the 
earth; on that day the Lord 
shall be One and His name 
One” (Zechariah 14:9), mean-
ing that all the nations will 
recognize the sovereignty of a 
single transcendent God. Yet 
at the same time, Zechariah 
envisages the nations partic-
ipating only in Sukkot, the 
most universal of the festivals, 
and the one in which they 
have the greatest interest since 
they all need rain. He does 
not envisage them becoming 
Jews, accepting the “yoke of 
the commands,” all 613 of 
them. He does not speak of 
their conversion. 
The practical outcome of 
this dual theology — the uni-
versality of God and the par-
ticularity of Torah — is that 
we are commanded to be true 
to our faith and a blessing 
to others, regardless of their 
faith. That is the Jewish way.

SHEMINI ATZERET
Shemini Atzeret reminds us of 
the intimacy Jews have always 
felt in the presence of God. 
 The cathedrals of Europe 
convey a sense of the vastness 
of God and the smallness of 
humankind. The small shuls 
of Tzfat, where the Arizal 
and Rabbi Yosef Caro prayed, 
convey a sense of the close-
ness of God and the greatness 
of humankind. Jews, except 
when they sought to imitate 
other nations, did not build 
cathedrals. Even the Temple 
reached its greatest architec-
tural grandeur under Herod, 
a man better known for his 
political ruthlessness than his 
spiritual sensibilities.
So, when all the univer-
sality of Judaism has been 
expressed, there remains 
something that cannot be uni-
versalized: that sense of inti-
macy with, and closeness to, 

God that we feel on Shemini 
Atzeret, when all the other 
guests have left. Shemini 
Atzeret is chamber music, not 
a symphony. It is quiet time 
with God. We are reluctant 
to leave, and we dare to think 
that He is reluctant to see us 
go. Justice is universal; love 
is particular. There are some 
things we share because we 
are human. But there are 
other things, constitutive of 
our identity, that are uniquely 
ours — most importantly our 
relationships to those who 
form our family. On Sukkot 
we are among strangers and 
friends. On Shemini Atzeret 
we are with family.

SIMCHAT TORAH
The emergence of Simchat 
Torah signals something 
remarkable. You may have 
noticed that Sukkot and 
Shemini Atzeret are both 
described as zeman sim-
chateinu, the season of our 
joy. The nature of that joy was 
clear and signaled in different 
ways both by the sukkah and 
by the Four Species. The suk-
kah reminded the people how 
blessed they were to be living 
in Israel when they recalled 
how their ancestors had to 
live for 40 years without a 
land or a permanent home. 
The lulav, etrog, hadassim and 
aravot were a vivid demon-
stration of the fruitfulness 
of the land under the Divine 
blessing of rain. 
 The joy of Sukkot was the 
joy of living in the Promised 
Land. But by the time Simchat 
Torah had spread through-
out the Jewish world, Jews 
had lost virtually everything: 
their land, their home, their 
freedom and independence, 
the Temple, the priesthood, 
the sacrificial order — all that 
had once been their source 
of joy. 
 A single devastating sen-

tence in one of the piyutim of 
Ne’ilah (at the close of Yom 
Kippur), summed up their sit-
uation: Ein shiur rak haTorah 
hazot, “Nothing remains but 
this Torah.” All that remained 
was a book.
Sa’adia Gaon, writing in the 
10th century, asked a simple 
question. In virtue of what 
was the Jewish people still 
a nation? It had none of the 
normal preconditions of a 
nation. Jews were scattered 
throughout the world. They 
did not live in the same ter-
ritory. They were not part of 
a single economic or political 
order. They did not share 
the same culture. They did 
not speak the same language. 
Rashi spoke French, Rambam 
Arabic. Yet they were, and 
were seen to be, one nation, 
bound by a bond of collective 
destiny and responsibility. 
Hence Sa’adia concluded: 
Our people is a people only 
in virtue of our Torah (Beliefs 
and Opinions, 3). In the lovely 
rabbinic phrase about the Ark 
which contained the tablets, 
“It carried those who carried 
it” (Sotah 35a). More than the 
Jewish people preserved the 
Torah, the Torah preserved 
the Jewish people.
It was, as we say in our 
prayers, “our life and the 
length of our days.” It was 
the legacy of their past and 
the promise of their future. It 
was their marriage contract 
with God, the record of the 
covenant that bound them 
unbreakably together. They 
had lost their world, but they 
still had God’s word, and it 
was enough.
More than enough. On 
Simchat Torah, without being 
commanded by any verse in 
the Torah or any decree of 
the rabbis, Jews throughout 
the world sang and danced 
and recited poems in honor 
of the Torah, exactly as if they 

were dancing in the courtyard 
of the Temple at the Simchat 
Beit HaSho’evah, or as if they 
were King David bringing the 
Ark to Jerusalem. They were 
determined to show God, and 
the world, that they could still 
be ach same’ach, as the Torah 
said about Sukkot: wholly, 
totally, given over to joy. It 
would be hard to find a par-
allel in the entire history of 
the human spirit of a people 
capable of such joy at a time 
when they were being massa-
cred in the name of the God 
of love and compassion.
A people that can walk 
through the valley of the 
shadow of death and still 
rejoice is a people that can-
not be defeated by any force 
or any fear. Rambam writes 
(Laws of Shofar 8:15) that to 
experience joy in the fulfill-
ment of a mitzvah out of the 
love of God is to touch the 
spiritual heights. 
Whoever stands on their 
dignity and regards such 
things as beneath them is, 
he says, a sinner and a fool, 
and whoever abandons their 
dignity for the sake of joy is 
thereby elevated “because 
there is no greatness or honor 
higher than celebrating before 
God.”
Simchat Torah was born 
when Jews had lost every-
thing else, but they never 
lost their capacity to rejoice. 
Nechemiah was right when 
he said to the people weep-
ing as they listened to the 
Torah, realizing how far they 
had drifted from it: “Do not 
grieve, for the joy of the Lord 
is your strength” (Nechemiah 
8:10). A people whose capaci-
ty for joy cannot be destroyed 
is itself indestructible. 
 

Adapted from the introduction to 

the Koren Succot Machzor with 

commentary and translation by Rabbi 

Sacks.