The yetzer hara has mastered the art of spinning something from nothing. If he wants machlokes, he’ll figure out a way to get it

L

ast year, I wrote an opinion piece in the Succos issue titled “The Grinch that Stole Simchas Torah.” It was about grinchy people who grump their way through the hakafos as others celebrate. We explained how their misery stems from a deep sense of frustration and inability. And we discussed how to remedy it — without alcohol.

Whether you liked the piece or not, you have to admit, the title was great (an editor’s idea).

But now, I’d like to focus on another Grinch, one lurking somewhere in the background of every Simchas Torah celebration. It’s a very sinister Grinch indeed.

Some history. Sometime in the mid-19th century, Polish chassidus saw a stark divide. Rav Mordechai Yosef Leiner of Izhbitz, a dedicated disciple of the Kotzker Rebbe, left the court of Kotzk and founded his own chassidus and his own approach to avodah.

Legend has it that this split was formalized on Simchas Torah.

This could be passed off as happenstance, if not for the fact that many chassidic courts had similar experiences. We’ll avoid mentioning names so as to stay out of politics, but on multiple occasions, secessions or significant exacerbations of existing schisms happened on Simchas Torah.

“He made his own hakafos” has become something of an axiom. It means “machlokes.”

But we don’t need the widely publicized disputes to discern this truth. It is evident in smaller yet always devastating skirmishes that go on in shuls throughout the world.

These can revolve around a litany of issues. Yes alcohol, no alcohol. Long hakafos, short hakafos. Yes syndicates for chassan Bereishis, no syndicates for chassan Bereishis. And the list goes on.

But it doesn’t really matter what the issue is. The yetzer hara has mastered the art of spinning something from nothing. If he wants machlokes, he’ll figure out a way to get it.

I recently shared this observation with one of my great rebbeim, Rav Yoir Adler. He responded immediately with an emphatic “Yes!” Then he said, “There is a special klippah of machlokes on Simchas Torah.”

He provided the reason for this, which I’ll share in a minute, but first, two additional observations.

On Simchas Torah, we make a big deal out of singing the words “Moshe emes v’Soraso emes.” We throw the children into the air as we do. Why?

Following the hakafos, we all gather under a tallis to hear the various aliyos. It’s a cramped, crowded, stuffy experience. Why do we do this?

Now, back to Rav Adler.

A plethora of chassidishe seforim, he said, many quoting the Ruzhiner Rebbe, share the following idea.

The Torah commands that we observe Shemini Atzeres, an additional holiday following seven days of Succos. Why? What is its purpose? Rashi quotes the famous Chazal that allegorizes it to a king who summons his children to a banquet lasting several days. When it comes time for everyone to leave, the king says, “B’vakashah mikem, ikvu li yom echad [Please, I request of you, remain here for one day]. Kashah Alai preidas’chem [Your departure is difficult for Me].”

This is the simple understanding of Chazal’s words, but the Ruzhiner Rebbe interprets them homiletically. The term preidas’chem can be understood as being rooted in the word pirud — “division.” Hashem is saying, “Please! Hold on to the unity we enjoyed throughout Succos. Don’t leave it behind and succumb to pirud. Kashah Alai preidas’chem — your pirud, your division, is difficult for Me!”

Thus we see that Shemini Atzeres, at its core, is a day of unity.

Said Rav Adler, wherever there is spiritual opportunity, there is a counterforce pulling toward spiritual failure.

Simchas Torah is a day of unity and is therefore fraught with challenges of disunity.

(To be clear. This is not to suggest that people such as the Izhbitzer and the Kotzker, who were of the loftiest spiritual level, succumbed to a “yetzer hara.” But even if this machlokes was destined to take place, the fact that it found its place on Simchas Torah is telling).

Hashem beckons us to remain for “yom echad — one day.” We can suggest (and I believe some of the seforim say this explicitly) that this “one day” can be understood as a “Day of Oneness.”

Shemini Atzeres is a Yom Echad. On Shemini Atzeres, we dance as one.

Allow me the liberty to expound on this for a moment.

The source of all machlokes is rooted in the first divide to occur in creation. This is the divide between the mayim elyonim, the “upper waters” and the mayim tachtonim, the “lower waters.” This divide took place on the Second Day of Creation.

The Zohar tells us that since then, the lower waters cry out, “Anan ba’inan l’mehevei kamei Malka — We wish to be before the King!” They are forever bitter about their fate.

Yet two mitzvos serve to appease them. Rashi in Vayikra (2:13) tells us that the commandment to place salt (which comes from the ocean) on korbanos was enacted to placate these lower waters. And, says Rashi, so is the commandment of nisuch hamayim, the water libation unique to Succos. This too acts as a mollification of the lower waters.

Nisuch hamayim is a mysterious mitzvah indeed. On each day of Succos, water was poured into the shisin, hollow cavities descending from the side of the Mizbeiach. In celebration of this mitzvah, the wildly festive Simchas Beis Hashoeivah was held.

What is so thrilling about pouring water down the Mizbeiach? Why is it cause for such great simchah?

The answer is that it serves as a resolution to the very first machlokes in history. The “lower waters” are now at ease with their status. They no longer bear a grudge against the “upper waters.”

Nisuch hamayim creates unity.

And when there’s unity in the world, there’s happiness in the world. Hence the joy of the Simchas Beis Hashoeivah.

Shemini Atzeres (along with Simchas Torah) celebrates the completion of our avodah of Succos. On Shemini Atzeres, we bask in the unity we’ve forged over the course of the seven previous days.

In other words, Shemini Atzeres is the day of ultimate unity.

The divide between the waters — the very root of machlokes — took place on the Second Day of Creation. It is pointed out (see page 273 of sefer Maaseh Avos Siman Labanim by Rav Dovid Cohen) that for this reason, the shir shel yom of Monday is “Shir mizmor livnei Korach,” a song composed by the children of Korach.

The children of Korach, who was the ultimate baal machlokes, are associated with Yom Sheini, the day when machlokes was first introduced to creation.

Now let’s look back at the unique minhagim we mentioned earlier. On Simchas Torah, we cry out “Moshe emes v’Soraso emes!” as we throw the children up into the air.

Where do these words come from? They are sourced in the Gemara in Bava Basra (74a), which tells of how Rabbah bar bar Chanah heard Korach and his cohorts crying out from beneath the ground, “Moshe v’Soraso emes! — Moshe and his Torah are true!”

This cry is the plea for unity. A desperate attempt to resolve the most dire machlokes Klal Yisrael has ever seen.

It is this cry that we take up on Simchas Torah.

Why do we throw the children into the air? The pasuk (Bamidbar 16:27) tells us that all who joined Korach — along with their wives and children — were sucked into the ground. Rashi comments — “Bo ure’eh kamah kashah machlokes — Come and see how difficult machlokes is.” Beis Din shel Mattah will not punish anyone under bar mitzvah, and Beis Din shel Maalah will not punish anyone under twenty. Yet, says Rashi, through the power of machlokes, even infants were punished. Swallowed up forever, deep underground.

On Simchas Torah, we must right this terrible wrong. We brought the children down. Today, we must lift them up. Specifically, as we call out “Moshe emes v’Soraso emes,” rectifying Korach’s machlokes, we take the opportunity to raise the children high, our apology for the punishment we wrought upon their innocent souls.

Why do we gather beneath a tallis? Rashi, at the very beginning of parshas Korach, tells us that Korach’s campaign against Moshe began with a tallis. Korach, along with 250 heads of Sanhedrin, took talleisim made of techeiles and asked Moshe if they were obligated in tzitzis. Moshe ruled that they were, and Korach laughed at him. “If one string of techeiles suffices to fulfill the mitzvah, certainly an entire garment of techeiles is absolved.”

The tallis was used to start the machlokes. We must now use it to resolve machlokes.

The idea of multiple people crowding beneath a single tallis has precedent. The Gemara (Sanhedrin 20a) tells us that, in the generation of Rabi Yehudah bar Ilai, “six talmidim would gather beneath a single tallis” as they studied Torah. Simply understood, the Gemara is highlighting the great poverty through which they remained devoted to Torah.

But Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz would explain that there’s another message here. Six people can only fit beneath a tallis if they all make room for each other. They have to care for each other.

They have to be united.

On Simchas Torah, we take the tallis once used to instigate machlokes and we gather beneath it, squeezing into a space that would normally be far too limited.

Because on Simchas Torah, we must expand our boundaries to allow room for others.

So, when a renegade violates the rules and brings schnapps to hakafos, or if the senior gabbai insists that one may not bring schnapps when there’s no such rule, take a deep breath before lashing out.

The temptation to break into an argument will be strong.

But the opportunity to forgo your adamance, and make room for another, will see unparalleled blessing.

“Your divide is difficult for me,” says Hashem, “stay with me for one more day.”

Let’s make this Yom Echad as unified as possible.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1081)