March of a Lifetime

There are certain times in life when words simply cannot capture an experience. The event or experience is so powerful and awesome that putting it into words would simply diminish the moment. This idea is found in the Kaddish when we recite the words. “לְעֵֽלָּא מִן־כָּל בִּרְכָתָֽא וְשִׁירָתָֽא דַּאֲמִירָן בְּעָלְ֒מָֽא.” Translation: the praise and elevation of G-d is far above any words that can be uttered in this world. One may have heard this reaction from someone who visited a breathtaking location or who had recently fallen in love. You might ask them to describe the site they visited or the person they love so much that they have decided to spend the rest of their life with them. They might be at a loss for words, as describing the Grand Canyon as 'amazing' simply does not do it justice. I have been having a similar reaction in the days since we dedicated the new Sefer Torah and proudly marched with it through the streets of Jacksonville to our beloved shul. There are so many elements to unpack and so many emotions swirling inside that I find myself at a loss for words when I am asked to describe the day. Awesome. Magnificent. Unbelievable. These words seem to come up short and don’t feel that they adequately capture the experience. ​ There is one part of the Hachnosas Sefer Torah that is seared into my soul, and I will never forget. As we marched with the Torah and reached San Jose Blvd, the world seemed to stop for the Torah. Our friends at the JSO stopped all traffic, and we were able to walk, sing, and dance proudly with the Torah across a main intersection in Jacksonville. All the vehicles, passengers, and bystanders were quiet and stopped as the scroll that carried the Divine wisdom from 3,300 years ago was brought to its new home. As I mentioned in my remarks at lunch, this moment carries symbolism that extends far beyond the act of marching the Torah to its new home. It should resonate with every aspect of our lives when we face the choice of how much priority to allocate to G-d and His Torah. We have so many competing needs and priorities that tend to divert our attention from what’s really important. As memories fade and we get caught up in the so-called normal, it is incumbent on all of us to remember that chilly Sunday morning in Jacksonville when everything stopped as the Torah was proudly marched to its new home. ​ Have a Peaceful Shabbos, ​ Rabbi Yaakov Fisch