As Simchas Torah slowly approaches, I find myself torn between joy and anguish.
Simchas Torah, a day of pure holy joy, has become synonymous with horror, pain, and suffering.
It’s the day when the impossible became possible.
It’s the day when the unspoken rules of humanity were broken.
Honestly, it feels too soon to be standing at the one-year mark.
In many ways, it still feels like Simchas Torah of last year and I don’t feel ready for this year’s version of it.
Additionally, I ask myself, is it even remotely possible to dance on the yartzheit of 1,200 innocent souls?
Is it not unfair to rejoice on the anniversary of such immense pain and suffering?
Over the past few days, I’ve been trying to put pen to paper in an attempt to write. I’ve been trying to make sense of the insensible. However, each time I started, my mind went blank.
How can words do justice to a tragedy of this magnitude?
Are words even capable of that?
The only words that can properly describe the feelings of the past year are those famous lyrics, “Every day I’m losing my mind”. There are times when writing fails and music takes its place.
Sitting here once again in an attempt to write, a few thoughts came to mind.
The events of 10/7 of last year has broken down all walls within our nation. We’ve all bonded together in an unbreakable way. At the same time, it has highlighted the contrast between us and the rest of the world.
We vibe at very different levels.
We cry differently.
We feel differently.
We live differently.
We are the only nation that can be surrounded by seven enemies and keep going about our daily lives.
We are the only nation that refuses to surrender regardless of how much and how hard our enemies try.
We can cry and with hot tears still on our faces, we can dance to “Am Yisroel chai”.
Our brave soldiers can sing and dance prior to doing the most dangerous missions against the most brutal enemies.
Our thousands of widows and orphans, while still mourning, can sing melodies of love, hope and yearning.
The intense pain we feel around the globe for people we’ve never met is something only we can do.
Can we move on? I don’t think so.
Can we move forward, higher, better, and stronger? Yes. We’ve been doing that ever since last year.
Despite all the hatred around the world, despite the horrible protests, and the awful amounts of antisemitism, we stand stronger.
That’s only possible because our enemies vibe at a very low frequency and it doesn’t hit ours.
So with “Simchas Torah- a year later” coming up, despite being filled with so much confusion and pain; despite there being so much unknown and fear, I look around and gain support from everyone around me.
We didn’t move on.
We can’t move on.
Instead, we moved upwards.
Over and over and over.
Again and again and again.
I was asked by someone if I still believe in God after 10/7. I looked at him and said. In the past, I thought God was up in heaven. I now know that God is deep within every single one of us. We have Godly souls.
Humans aren’t capable of living this way.
Chazal say that the Hashem, the Torah, and klal Yisroel are one. We are one. We are infinite. We are the truest people because we are connected to the biggest source of truth and infinity.
It’s the Godly and infinite part in us that can live “the day after” while still living “that day”.
It’s the Godly part in us that can sing “Am Yisroel chai” at funerals, battle zones and at shivah homes.
It’s the Godly part in us that has paralyzed many of us, despite never seeing or knowing the hostages and those directly affected.
It’s the Godly part in us that has refused to surrender physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
And it’s the Godly part in us that will keep us going regardless of what our enemies try.
So although nothing makes sense.
Although we’re plagued with questions and anguish.
Although all those images will forever be etched in our souls.
Although we’re still so afraid and feel so helpless.
Perhaps we can tap into our very own core. The core that was created by God and nurtured by us.
The core that can do the impossible.
The core that doesn’t break.
The core that knows all will be okay.
On this Simchas Torah, If rejoicing seems selfish, perhaps we can take joy in the fact that we’re still here one year later.
Stronger than ever.
Braver than ever.
Perhaps we can find deep joy and happiness knowing, seeing, and feeling on levels we’ve never seen before, that we truly possess Godliness and infinity deep within us.
This year, it’s not merely an idea.
It has become very real and tangible.
It’s within me, within you, and within every other Jewish soul.
Last year, some of us needed to hold the Sefer Torah to feel connected to God.
This year, I don’t think we need that. Each and every one of us holds a part of the Torah which is an extension of Hashem himself. All we need to do is to look inward, feel that and rejoice with our own inner Torah.