You shall rejoice in your festival.
—Deuteronomy 16:14
Hershel lost the use of his legs as a boy. It wasn’t easy,
not walking, not running, not even wandering where he pleased. But he managed.
Hershel was the sort who managed. And he had Zalman.
Zalman was strong as an ox and, not incidentally, built
like one. He could hoist a barrel with one hand. Only trouble was, he was deaf
as a stone.
One afternoon, Hershel had an idea. Alone, they were
stuck. Together, they could move mountains, or at least get across town. Zalman
would carry Hershel on his shoulders, and Hershel would be his eyes and ears. A
perfect partnership.
The plan worked brilliantly—most of the time.
One evening, strolling through town, they passed a house
filled with music, laughter, and stomping feet. Hershel caught it at once: the
fiddle, the singing. Zalman, of course, heard nothing. He saw only a house. He
shifted his shoulders, 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, they
had the time of their lives. One heard the music. The other felt the gin. Each,
in his own way, danced with all his heart.
The Celebration of Body and Soul
The Torah commands us to rejoice on the three festivals
of the year. Fine. But how exactly?
The Sages answered: good food, nice clothes, a cup or two
of wine. Not exactly what you’d expect for spiritual uplift, but there it is.
Also Shabbat, Isaiah tells us, should be celebrated as “a delight” (Isaiah
58:13).
But shouldn’t holy days be about higher things—prayer,
Torah, spiritual meditations? Why all the emphasis on brisket and Bordeaux?
Because our soul and body are like Hershel and Zalman. The
soul hears the music of Shabbat and Yom Tov. It feels the holiness in the air.
The body, however, is deaf to all that. It needs something it can hold in the
hand, smell in the glass, taste on the tongue.
And so, just as Hershel did for his deaf friend, we give
the body something to celebrate. A fine meal, a glass of wine, the joy of nice
clothing. And in return, the body lifts the soul on its shoulders. The body
rejoices, the soul soars, and together, each in its own way, they dance.
