A Surprising Siyum

While I always have a post-yom tov column ready to go before the yom tov even begins, I am always loath to send it in to my (very) patient editors, as I know that by the time yom tov is over so much will transpire, some of which worthy of sharing in these pages.

This year was no exception. Indeed, I simply do not have the space to share them all in just one column.

Once in a while something happens in every job-especially rabbanus-that reminds one why they love what they do. In the midst of preparing for this past yom tov, I had one of those moments.

In many ways, this was a daf yomi yom tov. Not only does each day of sefira happen to coincide with that day’s daf –daf vav (6) was learned on vav (the sixth) b’omer, etc. –but we all began a new mesechta together –Horyios-on the first day of chol hamoed, adding to the simchas hachag.

While perhaps a trivial aside to many readers, this small fact can be a boon to a rav. My first year in rabbanus I was so busy learning the ropes –what a shul needs to prepare for (a lot!), making a yom tov davaning and zmanim schedule –and of course fastidiously reviewing all the halachos, that I lost track –or perhaps failed to realize –of one tiny yet important detail that, too, fell on my shoulders.

A siyum for taanis bachoros.

It’s a responsibility that could understandably get lost in the chaos, especially for a youngest child  (and a kohein, who some suggest need not fast this taanis even if a bachur) like myself, who never had a concern of fasting on this day. By the time I realized my dropping the ball erev yom tov was less than forty-eight hours away and the daf that year was deep in the middle of one of the bava’s.

I contemplated staying up all night and finishing a small mesechta.

I quietly took upon myself that no matter how busy Pesach preparations in future years may get, I would never make this omission again.

But this year, I would venture, I and most shuls had it easy. With daf yomi starting a new mesechta the third day of yom tov meant that untold members of each shul were completing meseches Avodah Zara, leaving every erev yom tov minyan with enough potential misayemim for everyone.

But my shul did not use this wonderful coincidence as our siyum, rather something even more beautiful.

A couple of years ago a new family moved into our neighborhood. While we did not know their level of observance, their neighbors encouraged them to come to shul.

Soon, the father began not just coming to shul each Shabbos, but is always the first to show up. Within a few months he began taking on certain mitzvos that he used to think were in his past (he went to yeshiva day school, but that was a lifetime ago).

Such is the power of a community shul.

With just a few weeks before Pesach, he texted me requesting a meeting. That night after maariv we went into my office to talk. I sat nervously hoping that this meeting was not to share any unfortunate news.

“Rabbi, I wanted to ask you if it would be alright if I made the siyum erev Pesach”.

‘Oy’, I thought to myself, “Perhaps he finished a small mesechta of mishnoyos. How will I let him down easy if I feel his siyum is not enough for taanis bachurim?’

“Well, Mark, what did you complete?”

“Bava Metzia”

Bava Metzia is one of the longest mesechtos.

“You mean mishnayos Bava Metzia, right?”

“No, the gemara”.

I was nonplussed, mystified and therefore silent. Before I could speak, he continued.

“And I am also about to complete meseches Sota. Also, I don’t know if this counts, but ever since parshas Bereishis I have completed each parsha with every Rashi…and every Ramban (!!) using the Artscroll version of each”.

He brought with him his notes on all of the above, I guess in case I doubted him.

I was beyond words, and told him such.

“Mark, when was the last time –before this year -that you even opened a gemara” I gingerly asked.

“Twenty years ago”

He then shared something that was both wonderful to hear as well as frightening to consider.

“Don’t you remember rabbi your sermon on Simchas Torah? You challenged me to do this!”

On Simchas Torah this past year I gave a very short derasha, if one could even even call it that, which I can only now vaguely remember. The crux of what I said were devarim peshutim –Next year when we dance with sefer Torah let us do so with the feeling of accomplishment. Let us take on to be marbeh sedrah, even if we start with just one aliya a week with Rashi at first. If you do a little learning each day it can add up”.

That was it. No special sermon, no grand idea or vort, no brilliant insight or emotional story. Just a simple challenge that I could now hardly remember making. While a wonderful reminder of how words can make a difference, it also made me consider the weight of caring for every word I may say in a speech. Frightening.

It goes without saying that I take zero responsibility for what Mark had accomplished. I just said a few sentences, while he had been climbing mountains!

He explained that he first tried it for parshas Bereishis, and then Noach, until before he knew it he finished the entire sefer Bereshis with every Rashi and Ramban, using the Artscroll version of each. That is not a simple task even for the learned!

Feeling a great sense of pride, and becoming closer to Hashem, somewhere around parshas Vayeira he recalled that the last gemara he learned as a youngster was Bava Metzia. He was young at the time and thought gemara was uninteresting, but now was willing to give it a second chance.

So he started learning, first in-between patients, and then late into the night.

“I think I am addicted, rabbi” he explained, only half jokingly.

The pasuk from Yeshayahu (29:9) came to mind –“sheichar v’lo yayin” one can be drunk but not from wine, and how my 11^th grade rebbe would use this pasuk to express the potential simcha talmud Torah can bring to one who puts in the effort.

When erev Pesach came, several arrived to shachris carrying with them their gemaras Avoda Zara in case they were needed for a siyum.

But to the surprise of many, they watched as Mark arose after davening and carefully explained the end of Bava Metzia. By the time we reached amein yehai shamei rabba of his kaddish many of us who remembered him well from just a few years ago shed a private tear.

We all went into yom tov proud of Mark and urged in our own growth.

I have a few more stories to share from this wonderful yom tov, perhaps next week or some later time.

For now, let me end with the following idea I shared in this space several years ago, that speaks to this theme of tannis bachurim and our ability to grow.

One of the most interesting minhagim, specifically as it relates to this coming shabbos, is the shlisel challa, where the shabbos after Pesach some either shape their challa like a key, or place a key inside the dough before it is baked (Imrei Pinchos #298; Ohev Yisroel, likutim, shabbos achar Pesach, et al.).

Many suggestions have been offered for this peculiar custom, and I would like here to suggest my own:

The yom tov of Pesach, and the word itself, recalls how Hashem passed over our homes when He killed the Egyptian firstborn. He could not enter our homes, for we were on such a low rung of tumah who knows what He would have found inside (see Sephorno)!

However, before yom tov we clean our home from any and all chometz – which is representative of the yetzer hara -in the hope that Hashem will continue to protect us.

It is only now, after Pesach, when we have succeeded in that mission and rid our homes from its negative forces – the proverbial seor shs’bisah – that no more do we seek, simply, that Hashem save us by skipping over our homes so as not to see what is inside, rather we offer Him a key to our homes, inviting, kaviyochel, HKBH inside for we are now confident of being saved based on what we have accomplished inside.

Let us keep our homes clean, continue to be inspired by the growth we see in others, and let it influence our own growth as well.