“Tuesday is Rosh Hashanah,” I told my kids today.
You might think I am off by a couple of months, but I do indeed remember that we celebrated Rosh Hashanah this year on September 22-24.
Tuesday is, however, Yud Tes Kislev – the Chassidic New Year. It is the date that commemorates the release from prison of Chabad’s founder, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi. To Chassidim, it is the Rosh Hashanah for the teachings of Chassidus, which were able to flourish as a result.
So, what is Chassidus?
Many view Chassidism as a way of life – a dress code or mode of conduct. That is a pitifully shallow perspective.
Chassidim are people who subscribe to Chassidus and endeavor to live their lives based on its teachings. The attire, lingo, and customs are minor trappings.
Chassidus is a philosophy. It teaches us to serve G-d with joy and gusto. To internalize who we are with passion and faith.
More importantly, it is the soul of Torah. Chassidus did not invent a new way of serving G-d. Rather, it brings to life the timeless values and secrets of the Torah that are lying in plain sight, yet often ignored. It is the shining light that illuminates the darkness. It is the soul to the Torah’s body.
In this week’s parsha we see an example of how Chassidus brings to life a story and a concept that otherwise seem sterile or outdated.
In Vayishlach we read of Rachel’s untimely death. As Yaakov and his family are traveling back from Charan to Israel, she dies during childbirth.
“Rachel died, and she was buried on the road to Efrat, which is also known as Bethlehem. Yaakov erected a tombstone on her grave; this is the tombstone that has remained on Rachel’s grave to this very day. Israel traveled on...”
Yaakov labored for seven years to marry Rachel. She was the love of his life. He was about 22 miles away from the ancestral burial place, the Cave of Machpelah. Yaakov had plenty of servants who could have easily arranged it. Why wasn’t she buried there?
The Midrash tells us that Yaakov foresaw that the exiles from Jerusalem would pass that way. Therefore, he buried her on the road out of Jerusalem so that she might pray for mercy for them.
This is the meaning of the verse in Jeremiah (read in the haftorah of Rosh Hashanah!), “A voice is heard in Ramah . . . Rachel weeping for her children.”
While that is a beautiful explanation, it still seems odd that Rachel gets cheated out of her burial place. Why wouldn’t Yaakov have wanted her next to him, and let them pray together for the Jews of exile?!
Chassidus explains that this wasn’t a downgrade. It was an upgrade.
Rachel is put on her own pedestal.
She is the everlasting mother figure for all of Jewish history.
By sacrificing her burial place, Rachel acts as the essence of motherhood – setting aside her own considerations for the sake of her children. Eternally.
Her only concern was to be there for her children when they needed her.
This is the deeper reason why the Torah determines Jewish identity based on the mother, not the father. The assumption is that this is primarily due to the practical reason that a mother's identity is certain, especially historically when paternity could be uncertain.
But, in our day and age of DNA and genealogy, should we still subscribe this old-fashioned system?
Chassidus points to Rachel as the epitome of why Jewish identity is matrilineal.
Because the mother gives up her very self for her child, it is she who imparts the most essential identity of her offspring.
At Yud Tes Kislev, let us recommit to the inner dimension of Torah, continuously uncovering layers of depth and revelation within our tradition.
Mama Rachel would be proud.