Transcript
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Sometimes we walk into the Yom Kippur
already feeling like I'm just not there.
We open the machzor and we think I have
no idea what these words mean. My mind
is going to wander. I'm going to get
distracted. I'm not exactly the most
spiritual person in the room. How do you
expect me to go through the Yom Kippur
like I'm supposed to? And sometimes
without even realizing it, we start
thinking that these are days for people
who are more spiritual than us, more
focused, more connected, but not for me.
But what if the problem isn't that we
can't? What if the problem is that we
forgotten what's possible when we really
feel the moment? Let me share with you a
powerful story from the new book
Inspired by Time that might change the
way you look at the Yom Kippur
forever.
It was a sad time in the city of Dvinsk
as a heavy cloud of grief sort of
hovered over the city where of Mayor
Simcha the Great Golem, the author of
the Meshech Chochma and the Or Sameach,
he passed away and his loss was felt by
everyone. His brilliance had completely
illuminated the entire Torah world and
his very presence had been a living
safer Torah in their midst, but now that
light was gone and the Levaya drew
thousands of people, men
>> [music]
>> wept openly and women and children lined
the streets in silence. Everyone knew
that a prince of Torah had been taken
from them.
And when the Hespedim were about to
begin, the crowd turned their eyes to
the other Rav of Dvinsk, the
Rogatchover. He had been the other
leader of the city of Mayor Simcha led
the Litvish community and the
Rogatchover led the Chassidim. Surely
the Rogatchover would speak at the
Levaya, people thought. However, the
Rogatchover had a rule. He never spoke
publicly. And here too, despite the
significance of the event, he [music]
chose not to speak.
So the Levaya continued and the
grief-stricken crowd with tears in their
eyes, they followed the Aron to [music]
the Bes Ac Varus and following the
K'vurah, the crowd turned again to the
Rogatchover with pleading eyes they
said, "Rebbe, this was the Rov of the
town covered at Torah demands [music]
that you speak.
Now is not the time to remain silent."
And so to the astonishment of everyone,
the Rogatchover stepped forward. The man
who never once spoke publicly opened his
mouth [music] and told the story.
"When I was a boy," he began, "my father
was wheelchair bound and I never once
saw him rise from his chair. He
couldn't. All my life he was bound to
his wheelchair. Our family lived on the
second floor of a wooden building and
one night disaster struck. A fire broke
out and it began spreading throughout
the house and flames consumed the
apartment and smoke filled the
stairwell. The building was literally an
oven. People rushed over in panic to
help save the family. They ran upstairs
to rescue my father, but he shook his
head. 'I can't leave,' he told them."
"Why not?"
"Because my elderly aunt, she lives with
me. She can't move. I will not leave her
behind," he said with unbelievable
determination.
"And then something happened which I
will never forget," the Rogatchover
[music] said.
His words are striking the crowd like
lightning.
"My father, the man who never rose, the
man who was never able to stand on his
legs, suddenly leaped from his chair. He
lifted his aunt onto his shoulders and
he ran down the building, the burning
staircase, through the smoke and the
flames, carried her to safety and only
once outside, once the danger had
passed, he collapsed back into his chair
again. And for the rest of his life, he
never once stood on his own two feet
again."
And the crowd was breathless. Not a
sound was heard.
"How was this possible? How can this
be?" thundered the Rogatchover. "How can
a man who never moved, who was bound to
a wheelchair, suddenly leap carrying not
only his own weight, but also the weight
of his aunt through smoke and flames on
legs that didn't work. There's only one
answer.
And that answer is when there's a fire
burning,
everything is possible.
And then turning to the crowd, he
exclaimed, [music]
"Do you know how Reb Meir Simcha
throughout his life managed to achieve
such tremendous levels in Torah and
Avodah? Because he was on fire. Because
there was a flame of Torah constantly
burning before his eyes. And that fire
burned throughout his life. That's how
he became what he became."
And with that, the Rogatchover,
with a tear in his eye,
stepped down and walked away.
Every Jew knows, deep down, that we're
on a mission to bring light into this
world, to hold the torch of Hashem high
in this world, to literally keep the
world spinning.
But here's the problem. Most of the
time, we don't feel the fire. Life is
comfortable, it's routine. We wake up,
we go to work, we daven, we learn a
little, we come home, and we do it all
again the next day. And because
everything [music] feels so normal, we
sometimes start sleepwalking through
life. We forget that underneath all of
it, there's a fire burning.
But then,
each year, the Yamim Noraim show up.
And suddenly, the entire year is hanging
in the balance. Our lives, our families,
our health, our parnassah, our future,
everything [music] is on the table. And
suddenly, you can feel the fire. And
that's not a reason to walk into the
Yamim Noraim feeling defeated, saying
things like, "I can't. I'm not spiritual
enough. I'll never be able to change."
No, no, no. It's the exact opposite. Let
the fire wake you up. Let it pull out of
you a level of t'filah you didn't know
you had. Let it give you the courage to
make a change in a middah you never
thought you could change. Let it make
you pour your heart out to Hashem in a
way you never have before. Because when
there's a fire, you don't act normal.
When there's a fire, suddenly, the
person who thought he couldn't run is
running. And the person who couldn't
lift something is lifting it. And a
person who thought a door WAS IMPOSSIBLE
TO BREAK through is now smashing it
down. Why? Because the fire reveals
abilities that were there all along.
That's the gift of the Yom Noraim.
They're not here to remind you how far
you are from who you should be. They're
here to light a fire that shows you how
much more you can become. Because when
the fire is burning, [music] the
impossible starts looking possible. So,
let's walk into this year's Yom Noraim
with the fire of mayor Simcha burning in
our eyes. Not going through the motions,
not watching from the sidelines, on
fire. And maybe that fire will become a
fire of Rachman Shamayim bringing us a
year of Yeshua's and Nachman's and
Geulah. Because when a Yid is on fire,
he can do anything.
