The Joy And Challenge Of Yom Tov

What makes our Yom Tovim so special – so powerful – that the very mention of the name of a Yom Tov awakens sweet memories that lie dormant in our hearts?

Can anyone who ever experienced a Seder forget the songs, the words of the Haggadah, the sheer excitement of the night? These memories are so real that they even allow us to breathe in the delicious aroma of special Yom Tov food.

No sooner does Pesach pass than we stand at Mount Sinai learning the entire night the precious Torah G-d gave us – the most awesome gift humans could ever have received.

And then of course we move on to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, which we just celebrated with trepidation and intense prayers. Who cannot but tremble at the words “Who shall live…. Who shall die…. Who by fire…. Who by water….Who shall be elevated…..Who shall be demoted…..Who shall be tranquil and who shall be troubled”?

Then we have the confessions of Yom Kippur, which force us to look at ourselves and confront out despicable spiritual blemishes – our abandonment of our Torah, our indifference to the call of Hashem. Who cannot tremble on such days?

Spiritually exhausted, we now need assurance – a kiss and a hug from our Heavenly Father. Indeed, that is how He instructed our sages to discipline children – with the left hand you push away and with the right hand, the stronger hand, you pull toward you. The lesson is amazing and very powerful. So right after Yom Kippur Hashem brings us into His protective sukkah and assures us of His love.

The sukkah is unstable; strong winds or heavy rains can destroy it. But that is precisely the point. “My children,” Hashem says, “never forget you are under my protection, under my care. Come into My sukkah and I will care for you.”

G-d only asks us to bear in mind that Sukkos is the Yom Tov with the Four Species on which we have to make a berachah every day. Those Four Species represent the Jewish people in all their diversity. They are held together as one. When a Father sees His children united, His heart fills with joy. He has nachas.

“When My children are united,” G-d says, “how can I be angry? How can I not rejoice?”

Indeed that was the last request our patriarch Jacob made on his deathbed: Be one! Unite! If you are united, he assured us, you become invincible. Jacob learned this wisdom from Hashem Himself. Ask any parent and he or she will readily admit that the greatest joy comes from seeing sons and daughters united.

When my family arrived to the United States in 1947, we experienced severe culture shock. This was a land where Jews could be Jews and follow the Torah, and yet most chose not to.

My saintly father, HaRav HaGaon HaTzaddik Avraham HaLevi Jungreis, zt”l, reached out to our secular American Jewish brethren. Sukkos was a perfect time; he built the first sukkah in our Brooklyn neighborhood. My father’s purpose, however, was not to build a sukkah just for our family but for the greater family of Am Yisrael.

To my father, every Jew was “mine teyere kind” – “my precious child.” And those were not just words – they came from his heart and they entered the hearts of whomever he spoke to.

My father was a great rebbe but no one called him that. Everyone called him “Zaida” because he was everyone’s grandfather. And my mother, Rebbetzin Miriam Jungreis, a”h, was never called rebbetzin. No, everyone adoringly called her “Mama.” If you relate to someone as Zaida or Mama, barriers melt and you become part of the mishpachah. But the challenge still remained. How to reach our non-observant American brethren?

“My most precious child,” my father charged me, “this is your task now. Gather all the children on the block and invite them for a sukkah party.” For a moment I was astounded. Me? Me, who doesn’t know English, who lives in a cellar, who’s dressed in hand me downs, who’s an outsider and not accepted in the “in group”? I should invite the children on the block – children who live in beautiful homes, who wear beautiful dresses, who make fun of my English and my clumsy ways? Surely they will laugh at me. None of them ever heard of a sukkah. They would never want to come, I told my father. They’ll think I’m crazy.

“No, my child,” my father answered lovingly and patiently. “When you do Hashem’s work no one will ever think you’re crazy. At first they may be taken aback, puzzled, and wonder what it’s all about, but then the ‘Pintele Yid’ embedded in every Jewish heart and soul will flicker and before you know it become a flame that will burn brightly and show them the path to the sukkah.”

I had difficulty absorbing this. The detached way the children treated me testified to the contrary. In those days refugees arriving from Europe, especially from the concentration camps, were shunned. Mothers were concerned their children would catch lice from them and they feared their sons and daughters would hear nightmarish tales that would keep them awake at night. But just the same, my father said, “Go, invite the children.” And so I went.

To my great surprise, they all responded with a yes. They even came to help us decorate the sukkah. When the first night of Sukkos came there was a sense of excitement in the air. When you invest in something, when you work on something, it becomes that much more precious. You take pride in the accomplishment.

With a sense of anticipation the children on the block came to the sukkah. They pointed proudly to their contributions, their decorations that adorned the sukkah in every direction. When we sat down at the table my father started to sing in his sweet, holy voice. As if by magic the children were transformed.

Now it came time for the seudah, the meal, which presented yet another challenge. We were very poor. We didn’t have money to buy meat or even chicken. But somehow my mom managed to buy the feet and the bones of a chicken and made the most delicious soup as only she could. The children loved it, as did everyone who tasted Mama’s food. Mama also made her own cakes and challah. That meant more to the children than French fries or hot dogs or meatballs. It was a wonderful night.

When it was time to relate the story of Sukkos, my father had me tell it because I was the only one in the family who spoke English, even though the words were broken and mispronounced. If my Tatte asked me to speak, what else could I do?

Years went by and the connection became closer and closer; the boys and girls in the neighborhood became my father’s grandchildren. My father always had candy in his pocket but before he would give it to them he would ask for a berachah. In that way he taught them how to make berachos. Many of them went on to become rabbis and rebbetzins and even roshei yeshiva.

In a very real sense it was on those Yom Tovim that I received some early training I put to good use years later in establishing Hineni, reaching out to Jews all over the world.

I’ve never forgotten my father’s lesson about breaking down artificial barriers to connect with other Jews. Over the years I’ve traveled to every country where Jews are found, and though I often don’t know the language, I speak from my heart and they open their hearts and the Pinetele Yid becomes a flame.

Let us all take my father’s example and make it work for us. Open your sukkah to every Jew. Don’t worry about the décor or the menu. Just worry about your heart – it should be filled with love for those who come.

Sukkos is the Yom Tov regarding which it is written “You shall be very happy.” And that is how we have to approach G-d, how we can thank Him for the life he granted us on Yom Kippur. Serve Him with joy, united with all our brethren.

V’hayisah ach sameach – and you shall be very happy; very joyous. That is how we enter the sukkah and that is how we approach Hashem.

My I take this opportunity to wish my wonderful readers and Jews everywhere a chag sameach. May we always celebrate together – be’ezrat Hashem next year in Jerusalem.