|
It all started with an innocent "Good Yom Tov" greeting. I asked the Gabbai of Bnei Yeshurun, the new shule I have started to attend regularly, if the "pekalach" (lolly bags) have been organised for the kids for Simchas Torah. I volunteered and he was pleased. The next thing you know, I'm in Geulah haggling with the owner of a sweets shop over the price of 50 pekalach. I shlep the pekalach around town, to work and back only to be informed that Bnei Yeshurun won't be holding services over Simchas Torah due to a series of mitigating circumstances. So I call the Gabbai and he confirms that this is unfortunately true. My kids are happy because there are two shopping bags worth of lollies in the house. They are conveniently located on a top shelf in the laundry, out of harm's way. But what to do with them? I decide to daven at the Gra shule as it now has a very large premises quite suited to dancing on Simchas Torah. Zvi comes along with me as we shlep the 50 pekalach along. He is impatient as we slowly make our way through Mincha. "Soon, soon!" I whisper to him - he can't wait to distribute the pekalach to all the kids. My eye scans the shule and my fears are becoming reality. There are far more than 50 kids here in shule. We have grossly under-catered! Zvi is anxious to get the lolly distribution underway and I calmly pat his head. Zvi ferociously guarded the pekalach as I davened, not letting anyone within meters of the pekalach! Mincha is over and I give Zvi a knowing wink. But a quick glance outside tells me that it is far too early for Maariv. Perhaps the Rav will give a drasha. Much to Zvi's chagrin, he does. The Rav spoke about kavod for the Torah and that Simchas Torah is about honouring the Torah and Torah principles. As a prelude to the next event on the schedule, he sneakily throws in a line or two about giving generously to the shule to beautify it. The new shule was plonked down a week before Rosh Hashanah, as I described in a previous letter, and is still surrounded by rocks and dust. The Rav wants landscaping for Kavod HaTorah and he was about to be pleasantly surprised. The Gabbai stood up at the bimah and announced that they are going to auction everything but the Rabbi's hat. Each Hakofeh went for no less than 450 shekel each, all the way up to 2,000 shekel. The Aliyos for Simchas Torah night went for no less than 600 shekel - Kohen was sold for 2,100 shekel. The Rabbi's speech must have been really good. They sold Chosson Torah (with the honor to be given to the Rav) for 3,500 shekel and Chosson Bereishis for a princely sum of 4,000 shekel. Probably enough to buy a shrub or two. They sold Hagba, Gelilah, Pesicha and various other honours for very high amounts. The auction was very exciting because all bids started at 200 shekel and went up in 100 shekel increments. The bidding was fierce at times and the Gabbai had a hard time keeping all the bids in order - the room was large and full of people who wanted to give. 600 shekel ershten mohl, 600 shekel tzveiten mohl....zochor lo (going once, twice, sold!). I was on the edge of my seat watching the spectacle, trying not to sneeze or give any indication that I wanted to contribute to the Rav's rose garden. Zvi was also on the edge of his seat, waiting for the dancing to start to give out the pekalach. The auction took an hour and they raised about 10,000 shekel, give or take. Then we started Maariv. There was excitement in the air and Zvi felt it as he kept on handling the merchandise to make sure it was all ready. Then, finally, after hours of waiting the time came and Zvi and I slowly walked towards the center of the room, pekalach in hand ready to go. Zvi had one bag, I had the other. We got about two steps when we were suddenly swooped upon by a thousand children. They stood there, not uttering a word, waiting with outstretched hands to receive what was rightfully theirs. We were slowly pushed back inch by inch as hordes of children vied for a pekel. Poor Zvi was furiously dolling out the pekalach and kids were reaching into his bag to "chup". I was engaged in a battle of my own, unable to assist Zvi. He was overrun with children and quickly passed his bag to me in an effort to escape. Boruch Hashem I was looking in his direction at the time and managed to grab the bag as he let go momentarily. The enemy was on the doorstep and Zvi fled, leaving me alone with a gaggle of mini-people eager for their share of my precious few pekalach. I gave the youngest kids first. -those who were short for their age benefited for once for their lack of height. The bigger kids were more pushy, but I used some fancy moves to get around them. I fished into my bag and there were none left. I was doomed to be overrun by these sugar-crazy kids! I threw up my hands with the plastic bags upside down and a faint look of hope on my face that I wouldn't be attacked. The children who missed out groaned, turned their backs and dispersed. Zvi's look of relief was priceless. The shule was full to capacity and it was the usual Simchas Torah balagan - the mechitza curtain was half down, chairs and tables were pushed haphazardly to the side and empty disposable cups - both regular and schnapps size - littered the kiddush tables. The first Hakofeh had just begun and I started to get a headache. But after the Pekelach ordeal was over, I thought it best to pick Zvi up and dance. Shimi joined us soon after and I had the dubious pleasure of holding each of them on my shoulders simultaneously (they each straddled one shoulder, feet hanging over my back and chest as they faced each other). It was fun, and they enjoyed themselves. After I put them down I danced with Racheli, holding her in a sitting position as we shuffled around the bimah. They sung "Toras Hashem Temima" over and over again. Toras Hashem Temima is not a very long song. It only has seven words but it went on interminably. I managed to catch up with the Gabbai who was busily shuffling along in time with the tune and I offered him 10,000 shekel to change the song. He said, "Forget the song. I want to get on to the next Hakofe". Needless to say that each attempt at stopping the Hakofe resulted in more ferverent singing. And just when the singing seemed to end, one of the big machers there would shout "Shhhhhhhhh!" and they would start the song all over again very slowly and everyone would jump in time with the beat until the pace picked up and their jumping couldn't keep up with the tempo of the singing and they would resume the shuffle around the bima. There is a minhag in Israel that when the Hakofe starts (which subsequent ones eventually did!) they start off with a slow and solemn tune of "oy yoy yoys" and then they all jump to the song "Moshe Emes VeToroso Emes". There was a lot of jumping. My headache got worse and we didn't last to the end of the second Hakofe. I finished off the davening privately, bundled Racheli into the pram and coaxed Zvi and Shimi all the way down the street. Two minutes later we were at our building and shortly after we made kiddush. A mechaye. The next day at the Gra shule was a carbon copy of the previous night. They repeated the auction and raised a fair few shekel to say the least. The Gra will have a very nice garden indeed. But the most impressive bidding came from the kids. The Gabbai decided to auction off Hagbe and Gellila to the kids in exchange for learning pages of Gemorah and learning Mishnayos by heart. The bidding started at 10 mishnayos by heart and went up steadily to 200. Then it jumped to 250 and once it got to 300, the Rabbi changed the rules - they didn't have to learn the mishnayos by heart, but the winner will still be tested to see if he fulfilled his obligation. The heat was now on and gellilah was eventually sold for the princely sum of 700 mishnayos! Hagbe was sold for 470 daf gemorrah - that's one and a third daf gemorah per day for a year! The guy sitting next to me commented that you have kids bidding - they don't really understand the whole concept and are likely to bid 20,000 mishnayos just to win! After the auction a kiddush was served along with some nice cool drinks. If you knew where to go, you could also get a schnapps or two, safely guarded by the "bartender" who took it upon himself to provide the whiskey and vodka. Good man. Then the dancing started. This time I stayed for the whole lot as there was still laining and mussaf to follow. The kids arrived in time for Kol Haneorim and...pekalach! I reminded the kids of their manners and told them not to push and to be nice. Good words, but when it comes to mere survival, you sometimes have to push back. Shimi was in front of me and Zvi was standing behind me (I was holding Racheli). The poor kids are skinny as it is, but were getting squashed even more by the throng. I managed to get them a pekel each and they were OK by the end of it. I don't think the idea of pekalach thrill them much anymore! Mussaf finished at about 2.30 and Leah was already at home with the children. I decided to return for Mincha at 4.30, rather than daven immediately. Leah was glad to see that I returned in reasonable shape (although the vodkas were really good!) and we ate our meal, starting off with a nice big cup of wine... I returned to the Gra at 4.30 and there was just a minyan as most people had already davened Mincha. I was honored with an aliya and didn't have to promise to buy a fern, either. Mincha was over and I decided to sit and re-read the Haftorah as I found it interesting the first time around. I looked up and there were about 5 people dancing in a circle. I decided to keep reading until I noticed that the group had grown to ten then fifteen people. The noise was too loud for me to concentrate on the book, so I decided to join in. Before too long there were probably about 100 people dancing. The Rabbi had joined in with a group of 20 or so kids who were dancing in an inner circle. The dancing was more organised than the morning's affair. Old men stood to the side clapping and smiling at their grandkids. The singing was loud but surprisingly in key. Of course we sang Toras Hashem Temima about a million times until some kind person changed the song. There was more jumping. I felt my lunch. I said to the guy next to me, "It was OK to jump before the meal..." - his queasy look was all the reply I needed. The singing was infectious and even the "bartender," who was still at his post, was bouncing to the tunes. Then all of a sudden "Shhhhhhhhhhh! Only the Kids!" They started singing. They were so in tune that it sounded like they had been practicing for years. And the Rabbi also felt this for he kept Shhhhhh-ing everyone to let the kids sing. It was beautiful. We danced for about an hour until a few guys brought out a whole lot of chairs which were arranged in a circle. The Rabbi sat at the "head" of the circle and everyone faced him. Yom Tov must have ended by then because someone dimmed the lights until there was only a faint yellow glow in the center of the circle. The Rabbi then started singing low, solemn tunes and everyone joined in. There was a camp-fire atmosphere. We sang slow and inspiring songs for a half hour or so. I was sure that the Rabbi was going to finish off the Yom Tov with a shmooze about reaching the end of the Chagim or something to that effect. But instead he sat in his chair with his eyes shut, swaying to the singing and every now and then changing the tune. It was quite an experience. As if on cue, as soon as we finished singing "Keli atah ve'odeka" the lights were switched back on to full brightness and the big machers of the shule jumped up and started singing Leshona Habo BiYerushalayim. Frenetic dancing ensued. I was relaxed and inspired from the singing but I was so energised by the atmosphere of the room that I immediately jumped up and joined in for the last bracket of dancing. We continued with Leshona Habo for almost as long as Toras Hashem Temima, but not quite. When Maariv finished, so was I. |
|||