Re'eih: Rejoicing on Shabbat and Chag

The Perfect Pair

Hershel had been lame for years. It wasn’t easy—not being able to walk, not being able to go where he pleased. But he managed, and at least he had his good friend Zalman. Zalman was the picture of health—strong as an ox, built like a fortress—but completely deaf.

One day, Hershel had an idea. Alone, each had his struggles. But together? Together, they could cover for each other’s shortcomings. So they struck a deal: Zalman would carry Hershel on his shoulders, and in return, Hershel would be his eyes and ears, guiding the way.

The plan worked brilliantly—most of the time.

One evening, as they wandered through town, they passed a house filled with music and laughter. Hershel perked up. He loved music. But Zalman, deaf as ever, sensed none of it. He saw only a house and a delay in his walk, so he shifted his weight, ready to move on.

Hershel, thinking fast, reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim flask of gin. He poured a small cup and handed it to Zalman. Zalman drank. Encouraged by his friend’s good spirits—so to speak—Hershel poured another. And another.

Before long, Zalman, now pleasantly tipsy, began to sway. Then he started to dance. Soon he was spinning and twirling, a one-man celebration, with Hershel perched on his shoulders, bouncing along to the rhythm.

And so, thanks to a little well-placed encouragement, both friends had the time of their lives—one enjoying the music, the other enjoying the gin, each in his own way.

The Joy of Body and Soul

The Torah commands, "You shall rejoice in your festival" (Deut. 16:14). The Sages explain that this joy is fulfilled with good food, fine clothing, and a cup of wine or two. Likewise, on Shabbat, we are told to make the day a delight: "You shall call the Sabbath a delight" (Isaiah 58:13).

But shouldn't Shabbat and Yom Tov be about loftier things? Shouldn't we be focused on prayer, on study, on the soul’s ascent? Why all this talk about food and drink?

Because the soul and the body are like Hershel and Zalman. The soul hears the music of these holy days. It senses their depth and meaning. The body, however, is deaf to all that. It needs something more tangible—something it can taste, wear, enjoy.

And so, like Hershel did for Zalman, the Torah gives the body something to celebrate. A fine meal, a glass of wine, the joy of nice clothing. And in return, the body carries the soul on its shoulders. The soul soars, the body rejoices, and together—each in its own way—they dance.

(Adapted from The Maggid and his Parables, pp. 41-42)