Jolting me out of the monotonous supper routine, the sound of
blaring music fills the air. The volume doesn't necessitate
too much thought; I know within a mere few seconds that
somewhere nearby is being graced by the gift of a new Sefer
Torah. Swooping my newborn into my arms, I run to navigate
the scene. The truck comes into full view, confirming my
guess.
A perfect night for this momentous event, the crisp air
penetrates our living room. I quickly go to fetch a sweater
for the baby, not wanting to miss the action. We return in a
jiffy, the baby wrapped in preparation for the festivities.
We have the best seats in the crowd as we join the audience
from above, while in the comfort of our very own home. Glued
to the frosted window, I admire the procession as I explain
the event's significance to my first-born son.
Gently, I tilt my head, cradling my son's head in my palm, as
I bend to reach his level. I want him to hear every word as I
elaborate. I want the memories of this meaningful parade to
be etched in his mind and heart forever. This scene jumps
from the window of my living room to the window of my eye to
the window of my heart.
Choked with emotion, I begin to talk; he looks on, trusting
and secure. This is the beginning of his life and it shall be
paved with Torah.
"They are bringing a precious Sefer Torah to its new home and
everyone is dancing as they escort it. Many men, women and
children are going together to bring it. See the Tattys? See
the Mommys? See all the kinderlach? They are so
excited to see the new Torah and that's why they are dancing.
Some day, when you're big, you are going to be so excited to
learn Torah and you're going to dance, too, right
shaifele?"
He looks up at me as a ball of light shines upon his face. I
look outside and see the colorful balls of light, rotating,
radiating from the truck, bounding off the apartment
buildings. As if to match the effects, the song V'ho'air
eineinu begins playing. May Hashem light up our eyes
with Torah. May your face always be lit with the glistening
light of Torah. Another circular image finds its seat
upon his cheek and I pray fervently that the light it
represents never leave.
Competing with this light effect, tall pillars of man-made
fire ascend. Based upon the top of the truck, they seem to be
flickering ever higher in the direction of the heavens. They
seem to be piercing the thick night air as they dance upward.
I wonder if Hashem will accept these symbols in token of the
sacrifices which we cannot now offer. I think that He is
surely proud as He watches this meritorious occasion. I am
positive that He is watching the whole event, rejoicing along
with His children and smiling down from His abode.
In anticipation of the next phase, the security guard begins
to direct the children away from the truck so it can continue
its parade. The atmosphere feels so secure that I doubt the
guard actually has reason to be hired for the event. Hashem
is surely protecting everyone here. As they dance with the
Torah, the joy is tangible. The sense of security is all-
encompassing. Hashem protects those who are fulfilling His
commandments.
The pure and innocent children are standing in two straight
lines, holding their blazing wax torches aloft, creating a
path in between to enable the truck to run its course. By
now, my son is drifting off to sleep but I still share my
aspirations with him, though mostly in thoughtful silence. I
tell my baby that I hope one day that he, too, will be
awaiting this glorious procession, accompanying the Torah to
its home, but also feeling at home with it, within its
home.
I begin to smell the candlewax and I feel the heat rise all
the way up to my face from far below. I wipe the sweat from
my brow and then the tear that just trickled onto my baby's
forehead from my cheek.
The noise reaches a booming crescendo. The truck comes into
full view. This is not just an ordinary truck but one
bedecked with the light of the Torah. I see the beautiful
crown at the front of the vehicle, representing the crown of
Torah. Oh, how I dream that my son will acquire this crown,
that he will toil for the gems of this Torah and find
success. As the moving float proceeds further, I notice that
the entire truck is adorned with lights, rows upon rows of
twinkling colored bulbs. I glance down at my son. He is
sleeping peacefully; he must be dreaming along with me.
Following close behind is the canopy extended over the
decorated Torah, the reason for this ceremonious attention.
Men are dancing joyously as they lovingly carry the Scroll to
its proud new domain. What a magnificent, majestic
procession!
As I continue to watch and allow the atmosphere to envelop my
very being, I pray that the Torah aura and light penetrate my
home, as well.
