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    VEZOS HABRACHA/SIMCHAS TORAH: AN ODE TO SOULS IN THE ABYSS – IS JUDAISM LAW OR FIRE?

    Fiery Law
    In the opening of the
    parsha of Vezos
    Habracha—the final
    parsha of the Torah
    read on Simchas
    T o r a h — M o s h e
    describes the giving
    of the Torah to the Jewish people:
    He [Moshe] said: “The Lord came from
    Sinai and shone forth from (the land of)
    Saeir to them; He appeared from Har Paran
    and came with some of the holy
    myriads; from His right hand He gave them
    a fiery Law.”
    Here is how Moshe, in his final moments on
    earth, described the nature of Torah: “Fiery
    law,” or in the original Hebrew, “Eish das.”
    It is an extraordinary and profound
    description—the best definition for Judaism.
    “Fire” and “law” are opposites. Law is all
    about structure, order and rigid behavior,
    articulated by the law. That is the function of
    law: to uphold order in a society, to create
    boundaries which one may not cross.
    Fire, in contrast, is the opposite of structure.
    It undermines, destroys and disintegrates
    any arrangement. It is never confined to one
    place, always swaying, moving, blazing,
    dancing, consuming something; it breaks
    down anything that enters into its realm. Try
    “telling” a fire to maintain order and to be
    respectful of boundaries, and it will consume
    you too. By its very nature, fires defy
    borders. Which is why fire represents
    unrestrained passion, zealotry, energy, which
    aspires to break out of the confined mode
    and strive for more, as a physical flame
    which is never content and seeks to consume
    more.
    This is the heart of Judaism: it is both “aish”
    and “das,” fire and law, combined in one.
    The two seem paradoxical, but they are not.
    On the one hand, Judaism demands a life of
    precise structure and order. Every mitzvah
    and ritual has its time, place, and specific
    rules. Judaism demands consistency and
    stability, day in day out. It keeps us
    synchronized with the rhythm of time and
    the passage of seasons; it keeps us aligned
    with the transitions of light to darkness, and
    conversely, and to the patterns of the body
    and the universe. Halacha, Jewish law, is all
    about specific structure in minute details and
    specifications. As the countless intricate
    “laws” that govern the creation of a single
    cell, Torah governs the life of the Jew.
    Yet together with that, Torah is “fire.” It
    challenges us to never stop growing, to open
    ourselves to the mystery and infinity of life,
    to transcend our habits and conventions, to
    re-invent ourselves, and to never stop
    burning; to continue to explore, grow and

    climb the mountains of infinity.
    The laws of Torah are, in essence, tools to
    touch transcendence and infinity. The laws
    are not there to limit and contain, but rather
    to free up and express our full potential and
    glory. It’s like tying down the chords of the
    violin so that it can produce exquisite music.
    The Old and the Young
    This is how Torah has the power to attract
    both the young and the old. Usually, the old
    folks are more comfortable with “law,”
    believing in consistency, order and stability.
    While the young are more comfortable with
    “fire,” with passion, idealism, breaking the
    mold and shaking up the status quo.
    Systems that are based either on “law”
    (America of the 1950’s) or on “fire”
    (America of the 60’s), alienate one of the two
    demographics. Torah, in contrast, is “fiery
    law,” it is both law and fire, hence its power
    to capture the souls of the old and the young.
    The Endless “Fiery” Quest
    A story:
    It was Simchas Torah, and the disciples of
    Rabbi Mendel of Horodok, many of whom
    had journeyed for weeks to spend the joyous
    festival with their Rebbe, were awaiting his
    entrance to the synagogue for the recital of
    the Atah Hor’eisa verses and the hakafot
    procession. Yet the Rebbe did not appear.
    Hours passed, and still Rabbi Mendel was
    secluded in his room.
    Finally, they approached Rabbi Schneur
    Zalman of Liadi, who had studied with
    Rabbi Mendel in Mezeritch under the
    tutelage of the Great Maggid. Perhaps Rabbi
    Schneur Zalman, who was revered and loved
    by Rabbi Mendel, would attempt what no
    other Chassid would dare: enter the Rebbe’s
    room and ask him to join his anxiously
    awaiting followers.
    When Rabbi Schneur Zalman entered Rabbi
    Mendel’s study, he found the Chassidic
    master deeply engrossed in his thoughts.
    “The chassidim await you,” said Rabbi
    Schneur Zalman. “Why don’t you join them
    for the hakafot?”
    “There are a hundred meanings to the verse
    Atah Hor’eisa,” cried Rabbi Mendel, “And I
    do not yet fully understand them all. I cannot
    possibly come out to recite the verse without
    a proper comprehension of its significance!”
    “Rebbe!” said Rabbi Schneur Zalman.
    “When you will reach a full comprehension
    of the hundred meanings of Atah Hor’eisa,
    you will discover another hundred meanings
    you have yet to comprehend…”
    “You are right,” said Rabbi Mendel, rising
    from his seat. “Come, let us go to hakafot.”
    Because Torah is not only law; it is also
    “fire.” Part of it must always remain elusive,

    challenging you to
    transcend yet again.
    The “Arms” Below the
    Universe
    There is a strange verse in
    the final parsha of the
    Torah, read on Simchas
    Torah:
    “[The Heavens] Are the
    abode for the G-d Who
    precedes all, and below the
    world are arms. He expelled the enemy from
    before you, and said, ‘Destroy!’”
    What is the meaning of this enigmatic
    statement that “below the world there are
    arms”?
    Rabbi Nachman of Breslov offered the
    following moving interpretation.
    If we had to categorize all of humanity into
    two groups we could say that there are the
    people who are comfortable in the world;
    and there are people who find no place for
    themselves in our universe. There are those
    who just have their two feet etched
    confidentially on the ground. They know
    who they are and they know what they want,
    or even if not, they are not bothered by these
    questions.
    But there are others who struggle with deep
    psychological, emotional, and spiritual
    dilemmas; people who experience deep
    anxiety, pain and grief; individuals who
    suffer from addiction, voids, and other
    internal maladies. All these people never feel
    fully present in our world; they never feel
    grounded and stationed solidly on the earth.
    Psychologically speaking they feel like they
    are falling off the ball of the planet.
    It is to these people who Moshe speaks and
    says: “Metachas zeroos olam,” below the
    world there are arms. When you feel like you
    are “falling off” the planet, that you have no
    place in our world, that you don’t belong
    here, you should know that below the world
    there are arms that will embrace you when
    you fall. These are the Divine “arms” in
    whom you can fall right into and allow them
    to contain all your pain and trauma.
    But here is the catch: Only those who “fall
    off” the face of the earth can experience this
    embrace. As long as you feel secure in your
    own being, as long as you feel confident in
    your own ego, you can’t feel the transcendent
    embrace of G-d. Only when you have
    nothing else to hold on to can you experience
    those loving arms which are always present
    below the world for those who are about to
    fall into the abyss.
    Many of us have lots of pain and challenges
    in our lives. We often feel like we are “falling
    off” the planet, with no real light at the end
    of the tunnel. Allow yourself to land in G-d’s

    arms wrapped around the universe. Allow
    G-d to hug you.
    A Shaky Hotel
    The following story was told by the Rabbi
    Zalman Gurari, who witnessed the moment,
    to my late father, Gershon Jacobson:
    One year, around 1933, a hotel was rented in
    Warsaw for the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe,
    Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schnerson (1880-
    1950) to spend there the last days of Sukkot
    with his hundreds of disciples and followers,
    in prayer, study and celebration.
    It was Simchas Torah during the hakafot.
    And as is the tradition in Chabad, the dancing
    was fierce. Hundreds of Chassidim were
    dancing with all their might, their soul, their
    heart, as their feet were jumping up and
    down in the heavenly symphony of Simchas
    Torah with the Lubavitcher Rebbe.
    The owner of the hotel was a Rodomsker
    Chassid, a follower of the Chassidic dynasty
    of Rodomsk (which was almost completely
    wiped out in the Holocaust.) He ran over to
    the Lubavitcher Rebbe and exclaimed: I
    know the structure of this hotel, and it is not
    capable of holding up all this pressure, all
    this jumping and dancing. I am frightened
    that the building will cave in on us and the
    results can be catastrophic. You must tell the
    Chasidim to stop dancing at once!
    The Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak
    Schneerson, smiled and said to him:
    The Torah states “Metachas zeroos olam,”
    below the world there are arms. The
    Kabbalah explains this as referring to
    “zeroos d’Adam Kadmon,” the Divine arms
    which hold up the entire universe and the
    entire planet. Our planet, the earth, is
    suspended in mid-space. Who holds it up?
    G-d’s “arms!”
    So, my dear Jew, the same “arms” holding
    up the entire planet, will hold up this hotel
    too!
    The Chassidim continues to dance, jump and
    celebrate, till the wee hours of the morning.
    The hotel remained intact. But the greatest

    miracle, said Reb Zalman, was that this non-
    Chabad Chassid returned to his previous

    position calm and serene, with full trust in
    the words of the Rebbe.