The Short Vort
Good Morning!
Today is Friday the 17th of Adar Rishon 5782 and February 18th, 2022
The Dance
Everyone was silent as the Bar Mitzvah bachur approached the Shtender.
Yanky was the final speaker of the evening.
Both families were Chashuva mishpochus with a long line of yichus behind them.
His father was still shteiging away, a “lifer” in the Kollel. He had recently published a kuntres on the Rambam’s Hilchos Deos, plumbing the depths of the Rambam’s enduring and profound words.
His mother was an alumnus of the finest Beis Yakov, and her brothers were also either in Klei Kodesh or still in learning.
His paternal grandfather was well known not only as a lamdan but also highly regarded as a pikeach, a person who had insight and wisdom, and many bochurim came to him for eitzos and hadracha.
On his mother’s side, his grandfather heralded as a baki-b’shas and was known to have finished the Daf Yomi cycle five times.
Both grandfathers had already spoken at the Bar Mitzvah.
Although often, the Bar Mitzvah Bachur speaks first in consideration of the “butterflies in his stomach,” at this Bar Mitzvah, in deference to Kavod HaTorah, the elders, namely, the grandfathers and father, would speak first.
The waiters cleared the remains of the main course.
All that remained was for Yanky to speak, and then there would be dancing.
Yanky approached the Shtender nervously.
He held tight to crumpled sheets of notebook paper, his pshetel, which he had buried deep into his new (and only) suit pants.
His paternal grandfather had written the pshetel. It contained numerous citations and quotes from Sefarim Yanky had never heard of.
The topic was a Bar Mitzvah Bachur born Beis HaShmoses which day is considered his bo-bayom?
He had proofs from sources beginning with the Gemara continuing through the Rishonim and contemporary poskim.
It was a masterful work of art. And although Yanky did not understand much of what he would say, he memorized the pshetel and planned on speaking as fast as possible.
He would deliver the pshetel in Yiddish, although English was the vernacular of his home.
He had pre-arranged with his classmates to interrupt him during the speech to facilitate his need to avoid embarrassment.
Yanky placed the six sheets of paper on the Shtender and began to speak. As soon as he started, his friends began to sing. However, his grandfather stood up and thundered, “ton nit iberraysn” (do not interrupt). The boys were silent, and Yanky continued in his sing-song voice swallowing many of his words.
Finally, he finished.
All that was left was for Yanky to say the requisite “thank-yous.”
Yanky thanked his parents and grandparents, his rebbeim, and his menahel.
To everyone’s amazement, Yanky then removed another sheet of paper from his other pocket, and instead of returning to his seat, he continued to speak.
“Dear Totty, Mommy, Zaide, Bubbe, Zaidy, and Bubby. You have all asked me what I wanted for my Bar Mitzvah, and I have always answered, “I’m good.” I changed my mind, and I now know what I want. The thing I want most at my Bar Mitzvah is to dance together with my two zaides and my father and all my uncles on both sides of the family in one big circle.”
The room was silent.
The elephant in the room had suddenly materialized.
The terrible rift in the family precipitated by his parent’s divorce four years ago was now on display.
The reality of the two sides of the family sitting seperatley, garishly ignoring each other was now exposed.
The plan for each side to form two distinct circles under the guise of “Covid restrictions” was now revealed for what it was, a thinly-veiled attempt not to have contact with “them.”
The room was silent.
Suddenly, shy, quiet, introverted Yanky looked at the bochur at the keyboard and faintly said, “Please play.”
The keyboarder began a leibidig tune; all the adults sat shell-shocked.
And then bashful, self-effacing, introverted Yanky walked over to his Zaidy and pulled him to the dance floor.
He then grabbed his mother’s father and led him to his Mechutan.
Each grandfather looked at the other one. They each felt they had been terribly wronged by the other.
Each one knew they had Daas Torah on their side. In their minds were thoughts of finally settling the score.
But then it happened. Yanky began pulling both grandfathers around in a circle.
At first, begrudgingly, they acquiesced under coercion to dance.
Yet, when they saw the smile on Yanky’s face, a smile which was gone for over four years, the animosity and hostility they had held on to for too long melted away.
Miraculously and amazingly, Yanky’s father and all his uncles on both sides had joined into one large circle.
Yanky’s face beamed with joy. His radiant countenance glowed as the entire room radiated in the light of Yanky’s smile.
Tears flowed freely from the eyes of the women who clustered near the Mechitza.
The music was loud, the pounding of the men’s feet on the dance floor was almost deafening.
Yet, if one listened carefully, you could hear the footsteps of Mashiach coming closer.
“If Not Now, Then When?”- Hillel
Ron Yitzchok Eisenman
Rabbi
Congregation Ahavas Israel
Passaic, NJ
