I’m standing next to the soda machine getting ready to buy a can of Fresca, and something in the corner of my eye struck me. Hundreds of Orthodox Jews walking down 34th street, heading to the Siyum Hashas convention at the Jacob Javits Center. Obviously they couldn’t afford a seat at the Madison Square Garden, so they had to rent the Javits Center as a secondary hall.
Fathers holding their little ones, grandfathers holding hands with their grandkids, followed by 5 to 10 other children. Their steps are getting quicker and their pace faster, to get in time and not miss anything from this great event.
Did Reb Mayer Shapiro ZT”L ever envision such a mass Kidush Hashem? Have they imagined in their wildest dream that years later, after we Jews suffered our worst blow in our Golus history, will still gather in such great numbers to celebrate the finishing of Talmud? They are definitely looking down and dancing for joy.
Meanwhile, I feel that there are more guys behind me looking at the same scene, “The Jews are invading Manhattan” one says with a comical wink, and I think to myself it is the Torah who is invading this place, Torah learned every day by thousands of Jews, that is what invades the air of this corporate and earthly island. But another kind of invasion, not one of violence and hate but of love to Hashem and our tradition, aspirations and connections to our colorful and painful past.
These books were written almost 2000 years ago by the great sages, collections of the greatest sayings ever assembled, difficult laws organized in sections, parables and humor, philosophy and astronomy, and much more. All preserved in almost its entire content, while going through a period of persecution like its people.
It has been condemned to burn at the stake, ruthlessly censured by the Catholic clergyman of the dark ages, prohibited to be learned by so many other ruling authorities. Yet we still have them intact, having studied them in secret and in the open.
All of a sudden I’m interrupted, I notice a guy running between cars trying to catch his hat that the wind blew off, OK here he picks up his yarmulke, cars are stopping slowly, and the guy picks up his hat waving to his son on the other side of the street to wait for him.
Why am I laughing, what’s so funny, haven’t I had my hat blown off my head before?
Yiddy Lebovits
