This Is the Time of Hashem’s Hug

Sukkos is the time when we are literally sitting in Hashem’s arms. How can we bring the comfort of this protection to all our days (even the scary and painful ones)? (Print and read over Sukkos!)

On erev Rosh Hashanah, we Yidden in Eretz Yisrael experienced the special feeling of consummate protection and unparalleled love from Hakadosh Baruch Hu—when we first heard those ominous sirens, then watched missile after missile fly over our heads, then heard the boom of the Iron Dome, and later learned that not one Yid had been harmed from this potentially devastating barrage. It’s at moments like these when we draw such comfort from the realization that we are being shielded by the quintessential Protector.

Sitting in the sukkah, which Rav Shimshon Pincus zt”l famously called “Hashem’s hug,” there’s no better time to internalize this message.

I’m sitting here, under the open sky, basking in the recognition that Hashem is protecting me, watching over me, looking out for me, minding every single detail of my life. Like the millions of twinkling stars we see through the sechach whom Hashem knows by name (lechulam sheimos yikra), He knows each of us intimately and wants a relationship with each of us as individuals. As the Nesivos Shalom explains, after days and days of preparation starting with the month of Elul, the time of Ani ledodi vedodi li, Sukkos is when we finally reach the “yichud room,” the bubble of ultimate connection between us and Hashem. It’s a time when it all feels “right.”

This alludes to the times in our lives when things are going well for us (according to our human eyes). Our kids are doing well at school, we’re able to marry them off easily, our finances are comfortable, we’re enjoying the gift of shalom bayis, etc. It’s then that our instinctive response might be, “Wow, look at Hashem’s greatness! His wisdom! His love for me!” 

But what about all those other times?

Those moments when we feel disappointed, frustrated, alone, unnoticed, or simply sad? (We all have them!) What if the kids are having issues at school, or we don’t know how we’ll cover the Yom Tov expenses, or we’re feeling so alone in our marriage? In the same vein, what if Hashem hadn’t chosen to spare us, ch”v, from the devastation of those missiles? What would keep us going then?

With Shemini Atzeres/Simchas Torah approaching, one of the thoughts on our minds is, “Last year at this time…” Simchas Torah here in Eretz Yisrael marks the yahrzeit of thousands of kedoshim, many of whom were sadly unaware of their rich heritage, so far away from the gift that is Yiddishkeit. It is also the day when so many Yidden’s lives became marred by loss, devastation, and uncertainty, the day that unleashed so much anguish and pain to all of us in klal Yisrael. How can we, at times like these, still feel connected to Hashem, still bask in the comfort that we’re in His embrace? When that’s the place we’re at, here’s a gorgeous piece from the Nesivos Shalom that’s worth keeping in mind. 

It’s a vort on the very last passuk in the Torah, one we’ll be reading on Simchas Torah, which encapsulates the essence of the entire Torah. (The first time I learned Parshas Vezos Habracha—already as an adult, I was so taken by its gorgeous messages that I thought, “What a pity we don’t get to learn this in school!” But then, very quickly, that thought was replaced by a solace. “How amazing that we usually don’t get to learn this in our youth. This way, we’re granted the opportunity to explore it for the first time through adult eyes. Now that’s a rare gift for an FFB!”)

At the conclusion of parshas Vezos Habracha, upon the passing of Moshe Rabeinu, the Torah extolls our manhig’s virtues: “There has never been and never will be a navi like him.” And how, according to the Torah, was his greatness manifested? The passuk continues: 1) Through the signs and miracles that he performed as a messenger of Hashem, and 2) the incident that occurred before the eyes of Klal Yisrael. Which incident does this allude to, according to Rashi? What would we think would be the climax of Moshe Rabeinu’s leadership, the incident that epitomizes his greatness? It’s not what we may have thought: the shattering of the luchos. The shattering of the luchos? Is that the pinnacle of Moshe’s manhigus, the most prized accomplishment that is worthy of mention as his final eulogy at the culmination of all of Torah? Indeed, it is. And when we learn the Nesivos Shalom on this passuk, we understand that this is certainly worthy to serve as the concluding message of the chamishah chumshei Torah. 

Yes, My dear children, is Hashem’s message to us. Yes, these shattered luchos convey a critical message, one that I want you to remember always, always. It is the message of the power of a broken heart, the message of the koach that lies in a Yid’s brokenness.

There are two pathways, explains the Nesivos Shalom, through which a Yid can serve Hashem and come closer to Him.

They are alluded to in the very first word in the Torah, which we start reading on Simchas Torah, as well. The word Bereishis can be read as beis reishis, two avenues. The first is at a time of miracles, a time of great wonders; when things go well for us and we’re overwhelmed with gratitude and appreciation to the Ribono shel Olam. But the second path is no less great, perhaps even greater. It’s when we feel like those broken luchos, shattered and pained. It’s at these times, is the Torah’s parting message to us, that drawing close to Hashem takes on a whole new dimension. It ushers in so much healing and wholeness! Reaching out may be an arduous avodah, but it’s then, when I turn to Him from my brokenness, that the deepest of connections—true intimacy between me and the Ribono shel Olam—occurs. So much so that it’s the shattering of the luchos that the Torah chose to highlight as the climax of Moshe’s career as our manhig: Not the glorious high moments of Matan Torah, but rather those devastating moments when it all came crashing down. The Torah is here to serve as our connector between us and Hashem, and the time of ultimate connection between us is in those moments. 

In the aftermath of the Simchas Torah tragedy, we’ve seen time and again how true this message is.

As the writer of Rabbanit Yemima Mizrachi’s column in Ami Living, not a week has gone by since that fateful Simchas Torah that I don’t hear from her about another woman or family who’s drawn closer to Hashem through their pain. These hurting Yidden have derived so much solace, so much serenity, so much wholeness, through connecting more deeply to Torah and mitzvos—just as we do, each of us in our own way. I see this time and again, as well, in the emotional work I do with women, women who are experiencing the gamut of everyday unpleasant emotions that make up life in galus. When we turn to Hashem from our pain, we’re infusing our being with the most healing of formulas. 

As the Nesivos Shalom points out, the Torah ends with the letter lamed (le’einei kol Yisrael) and begins with beis (bereishis), spelling the word lev, heart. The Torah is intended to be observed with heart, and it also heals hearts. Written by the Rofei lishvurei lev, the Healer of broken hearts, it contains just the right prescription to do just that. And so, when we turn to Hashem from our brokenness, during those moments that feel so trying, we merit experiencing the highest levels of closeness, unsurpassed joy, and of course, unparalleled serenity. It’s this directive that leads the way for not only Vesamachta bechagecha but also for a simchas tamid that will be’ezras Hashem accompany us through the long winter ahead and for the rest of our lives…

How appropriate it is to conclude this article with the words that are customarily exclaimed upon concluding the learning of a Torah segment— Chazak chazak venischazeik, which imparts the same empowering sentiment as the concluding words of leDovid Hashem Ori that we recite until Simchas Torah— chazak veyameitz libecha: When the going gets tough, keep strong, dear Yid. Strengthen your heart and keep hoping to Hashem, because it is through your connection to Him that you will keep drawing continued strength. Chazak chazak venischazeik!

May the kirvas Elokim engendered through this article serve as a zechus for a refuah sheleimah for a young father who’s been stricken with cancer r”l, Shmuel Eliyahu Aharon ben Hinda Ofra, besoch she’or cholei Yisrael.