Reb Levi
Yitzchok of Berditshev was asked to explain why Shavuot is also referred to
as Atzeret, even though the Torah only uses the term Atzeret in association
with Shemini Atzeret, not Shavuot. He offered three explanations. First, all
festivals have specific practical mitzvah observances associated with their
celebrations, beyond the mere forbiddance of labor on Yom Tov. On Pesach we
eat matzah and drink four cups of wine; on Sukkot we dwell in the Sukah and
take daled minim, whereas on
Shavuot the only actual characteristic of Yom Tov is the cessation of work.
Thus, Shavuot is known as Atzeret, signifying its only form of Yom Tov.
Moreover, explained the Kedushat Levi, the names of all
Yamim Tovim reflect a specific
historical event commemorated in subsequent generations in a religious
sense.
Shavuot,
however, is not a name reflecting any historical event, rather, the
completion of the mitzvah of counting
Sefirat Ha’Omer. But why would one celebrate a Yom Tov signifying
an end? It would seem more logical to celebrate and rejoice in anticipation
of fulfilling a mitzvah, rather than its completion. Isn’t this, after all,
the reason for reciting the blessing of
Shehecheyanu prior to observing a mitzvah, which we have not had
the opportunity to experience for an extended period of time! Judaism
teaches, however, that joy and religious ecstasy emanate from a sense of
accomplishment and fulfillment. For the religious and learned Jew, no
greater joy and celebration exists than that of a
siyum; celebrating the privilege
and opportunity in having shared and completed a significant part of Torah.
This Jewish expression of joy is unique, however, in that it marks not
merely the sense of past accomplishment but also the anxieties of finality,
the fears of a point of termination. Thus, the ardent and committed student
of Torah proclaims, Hadran halach –
“I shall return to you.” For the
genuine Jew wants not merely to give vent to the joys of yesterday, but also
to the hopes of tomorrow. It’s frightening to contemplate an end! This,
then, is the essence of the Shavuot-Atzeret experience.
Rashi
comments that it is Shemini Atzeret that zeroes in on the inner need to
linger, to continue the joys of celebration and not allow them to come to an
abrupt ending – she’kashe alai
pe’ridatchem. Shavuot marks the completion of the mitzvah of
counting the Omer. Atzeret induces us to continue the effect of the goals
towards which we counted.
Finally,
says the Kedushat Levi, when a Jew experiences a religious awakening and
reaches a spiritual elevation, there is an inner urge to translate the love,
ecstasy, and yearning into practical application. The Ramban interprets the
verse in the Song of Songs: Mah tairu
u’mah teoreru et ha’havah ad shetechpatz –“That you awaken not,
nor stir up love, until it pleases,” to mean that free and unfettered love
must find a mode of practical expression. One cannot love or worship G-d
theoretically. Religious inspiration and exultation demand
ad shetechpatz; it calls for a creation of a
chefetz, a vessel through which
to express and manifest innermost feelings and emotions. The Jews at Sinai
obviously reached these highest levels of religious exultation and fervor,
but did not as yet possess any practical means of expression, other than the
fulfillment of the command to hold back and refrain from “touching the
mountain.” Thus the Yom Tov is known as Atzeret, recalling the one and only
commandment, the only “vessel” now available to translate their deep and
exulted religious feelings.
The three
reasons given by Reb Levi Yitzchok of Berditschev as to why Shavuot is
referred to as Atzeret may also serve as three approaches to the recitation
and concept of Yizkor. There are those who view the past merely as history,
with no lessons or implications for the present or future. The past is not
merely gone, but it has very little relevance for the here and now. Thus,
there are Jews for whom tearing k’riah,
sitting shiva, and
observing the Halachic and historical modes of mourning are archaic. For
them, the past is ancient history with no practical way of expression. Their
Jewish past is over; it ceased with the passing of past generations. It is
abstract. It has no practical methods of contemporary expression.
Then there
are Jews who are able to find a more meaningful, yet incomplete method of
reciting Yizkor, of remembering the past. Remembering the past brings back
warm and tender feelings and sentiments, but only up to a point. That point
is their refusal to allow the past to affect their present or future. These
are Jews who respect the past, study and analyze it, do research and publish
studies and journals about the world of our fathers, the
shtetl, the world of yesterday.
These are Jews reciting Yizkor describing and recalling a siyum, unable to
proclaim Hadran halach, “I
shall return to you.” The passing of parents and grandparents is an abrupt
end, without anxieties of kashe alai
peridatchem – without the inducement to continue the legacy of
those who taught us how to count.
The only
genuine and authentic method of reciting Yizkor is to be able to translate
memories, emotions, and love of the past into new realities. Solomon
exclaimed: Why awaken or rouse the love, unless you are willing to create a
new vessel to contain it? Recalling the past is meaningful only when one is
able to transfer the ahavah
into a new chefetz. Genuine
and credible tears, memories, and emotions are an acknowledgement that the
present has only been made possible because of its connection with the past,
and that any future must likewise be connected with the present. Mourning
and recalling those who preceded us, with their love and dedication, must
include an acknowledgement that our present is not only their past, but also
the future of the next generation.
The past,
then, is the key to our future.
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