When the Rebbe Laughed

Rebbe Elimelech had an infectious personality.  They say, to look at the master’s face was to understand everything.  Nothing was hidden when one looked in the old man’s visage. Even more, what Elimelech was feeling spread like fire. It caught and swelled wherever Elimelech traveled. When he was depressed, his Hasidim would be unable to raise themselves up out of a chair. It was a mighty effort just to move. Their shoulders slumped and food tasted like clay. On the other hand when Rebbe Elimelech laughed…

When the Rebbe laughed the universe danced. The heavens opened and the sun was more brilliant than anyone could ever remember. When the master laughed, all was well. The Hasidim could not restrain the feet from moving rhythmically. Table thundered under hands, which slapped and banged as they sang songs that had no words but surely made the Ultimate Master smile.

Our sages tell us that when the month of Adar arrives our joy becomes exponential (Taanit 29a). Adar contains Purim, the festival of deliverance. Unlike the rest of our spiritually laden holy days, Purim is all let-the-hair-down, willful utter joy. Adar is also the month of the fish.  The zodiacal sign for the Hebrew month is Pisces. Just as fish reproduce in great quantities, we find our communal joy significantly increasing as well.

Rebbe Elimelech came across a Psalm, which reads, “For singing to our God is good.” The sage pondered those words. What exactly did it mean? Does God want, or need, our singing? Does the song please the Holy One, blessed be He? Surely the Master of the Universe does not need our words, much less our song.  Then, in a moment of clarity, the Rebbe understood and explained to his disciples that, “If when we sing, we can hear the Voice singing within us, it is the most and greatest good.”

God is present in our laughter.  He sings with us when we rejoice. He laughs when we discover truth and find new meaning in our ancient practices and words. “He that sits in the Heavens laughs,” (Psalms 2:4) when we were recover a part of our spiritual self on the road of life.

Perhaps we take ourselves too seriously. Maybe more than a grain of salt as called for in order to be truly human, perhaps we need a bulk-sized container of Morton's. Perhaps the greatest cause for pain is the fact that we forget how to laugh.  Often our antics are hilarious. Life taken too seriously loses its taam, its flavor.

For example. There was the time when this newly ordained Rabbi was officiating at his first funeral. Not having a clear idea of what I was to do, I raced out and bought an appropriate funeral suit (real dark), rehearsed the words of the text to dozen times or so, shined my shoes, called colleagues in a panic to find out how to craft a good eulogy.  The entire procedure had my heart beating wildly.

When the hour finally arrived I quickly got dressed, put on my most solemn face and departed. With a very few mistakes I got through the service with minimal problems.

Until. At the cemetery the ground was moist from a recent rainfall. In the middle of the famous Memorial Prayer, the ground of my left foot begin to cave in and my entire left let went straight down to the hole on top of the coffin.  With as much dignity as I could muster I pulled my mud-caked “funeral suit” out of the hole and resumed, pretending nothing unusual or unexpected had happened.  Every now and again I looked up out of my book to make eye contact and saw I staring at my brown, stained leg. A few smirks too.

I am sure that God appreciated my bravery but also had a hefty laugh Himself. The Master of the Universe must have a good sense of humor. After all, look how entertaining we are!  Personally speaking, I have provided countless hours of entertainment for HaKadosh Baruch Hu.

As Ecclesiastes put it, “If you are granted many years, rejoice in them all.”

Come to the Cabaret!

 What is the first record of a talent show in our faith?  “And Miriam the Prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a tambourine in her hand, and all the women went out after her with tambourines and all the women danced.” (Exodus 15:20 )

Alright, not exactly a talent show but it was a celebration!    Whereas Miriam’s brother, Moses, only sang, Miriam showed all the men and women how to dance, sing, and celebrate before God.

Life is meant to be a celebration of the many good things the Lord God has given us.  It is not for no reason that we celebrate but as an appreciation of the breath of life that each of us possess.

You probably are familiar with the tradition of dancing with the Torah on Simhat Torah.  We grasp the holy scrolls as we whirl about the Sanctuary in an expression of utter joy at the gift.  We hold onto the Torah with all our strength because if, God forbid, we drop it we begin a forty day fast.  It does not make for great ease or carelessness when dancing with the Torah but it does make for being very mindful.

Perhaps this is what makes these performances so riveting and meaningful.  The singer, actors, and dancers have put tremendous energy into their performances and we will experience the power and energy they bring.

It is said that Elijah the prophet once met a man who was assured a special place in Paradise.  Elijah asked the man what he did to merit such a position.  He answered, “I was an entertainer.  I made sad people happy.”

True, there are times to mourn.  And there plenty of them in life.  It is at least equally true that there are times to be joyful.  In the spaces of joy we can glimpse real meaning.

Enjoy the celebration.  Laugh lots.  Move your feet.  And take home some the joy.  Spread it around.  It is good for the soul.

Stories Tell Powerful Lessons

Life tells stories too powerful for words.  Rabbi  Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, the Piaseczner Rebbe, gives us an example of this.

Known as the Warsaw Rebbe, Rabbi Kalonymus was the glue for his growing community as more and more Jews were crowded into the ghetto.  Throughout the terror, Rabbi Kalonynmus continued to preach and teach and write.  He suffered greatly.   In the first days of the war, his son was fatally wounded in a bombing.  While waiting outside the hospital to hear word of his son, both the Piaseczner’s daughter-in-law and sister-in-law were killed.  All the while, he continued to work and support his desperate people.

In the ensuing bitter months the Rebbe gathered his disciples and urged them to feel courage and not to despair.  In fact Rebbe Kalonymus was so focused and dedicated that he even wrote a book.  Working on the document through 1942 Kalonymus realized that the end was approaching.  He wrote a note asking that anyone who found the document forward it to his brother living in Israel.  The Rabbi then buried the book before he was taken by the Nazis.

After the war, a construction worker found the book and instructions and sent it on to Kalonymus’ brother.

March 14, 1942  “God, blessed be He, is to be found in His inner chambers weeping, so that one who pushes in and comes close by means of studying Torah, weeps together with God and studies Torah alongside the Almighty.  The weeping, the pain an individual undergoes alone, has the potential of breaking him.  But the weeping, which the person does with God, strengthens him.”

A Jew will never dance or weep alone.  On Pesah, God’s Presence will grace the empty chair at the Seder.  The Holy One offers a L’Hayim at our Simchas.  He cries as our hearts are broken with the latest victims of terror.  The Almighty is with us when our senses are open, our emotions bared.