Bogrim, Supporters, Members of the Community of Yeshivat Har Etzion

Dear Friends,

            I have noted previously that, regrettably and yet understandably, our response to the onset of yamim nora'im and, in smaller measures, to the days proper, is tinged with an element of routine. Much as we might wish to channel our energies in order to overcome the dampening impact of what Yeshayahu called מצות אנשים מלומדה "rote normative performance," its presence is perceptible and its roots discernible – the deadening hand of repetition,  subliminal recognition that our annual teshuvah had not attained all we had proclaimed, and, possibly, sheer fatigue.

            Nevertheless, those "days of awe" should by no means be perceived as strikeouts.  The conjunction of the period and the person elicits previously unperceived powers which elevate one's spiritual self at the point at which the fusion of routine and exaltation sharpens our participation in La Comedie Humaine.

            That progress is endemic to the fusion of kedushat hayom and the readiness of the Jew, and is not dependent upon extraneous factors or the presence of others. However, the experience is patently enhanced if one is exposed to, say, the blend of simplicity and sincerity, or, alternatively, of humility and reverence.

            These remarks are obviously related to the recent death of the founder and rosh yeshiva/mentor of our Yeshivat Har Etzion, Rav Yehuda Amital זצ"ל . His absence from a familiar habitat would be noticeable on any ordinary day. The glint in his eye, the warmth and generosity of his personality, the depth of his conviction and the force of his determination – all served to charge even the most mundane of meeting, with power and charisma, to engage and enrich interaction with him, on any occasion.

            Yet, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are the most extraordinary of days, and, as such, elicit the best of Rav Amital; and this, both in his purely personal capacity, and in his role as primary she'li'ach tzibbur at the yeshiva. To those who have, over the years, been privileged to hear him, the day, the man and the tefillot are all inextricably interwoven. The lilting cadences of his renditions remain a permanently haunting presence, pregnant with quiet vigor and laden with pervasive emotion. Who can forget the compressed humility of his הנני העני ממעש, or the plaintive lament of his עשרה הרוגי מלכות,  its tragic sequence interrupted only for the gnawing, sobbing, query, of the survivor, asking, with the paytan and out of the profundity of his emunah, זו תורה וזו שכרה ? "Is this Torah and its reward"? Or the tuneful optimism of the complex of היום תאמצנו, followed by the conclusion of יהא שלמא רבא of kaddish?  Or the reverential joy with which, figuratively holding a thousand mit'pallelim in his hand, he leads them, to the climactic resolution of keter? 

No one. What we, impelled by conscience and enriched by experience, can do is to strive to remember and to perpetuate; to harness our energies in order to assure that the world which nurtured Rav Amital and which he then re-created, join the ranks of those which לא יעברו מתוך היהודים וזכרם לא יסוף מזרעם.

            May we be worthy of the סייעתא דשמיא, the divine assistance, crucial to the success of such a venture; and may we, personally and collectively, in these days of "woe and wonder," be charged with spiritual strength, להגדיל תורה ולהאדירה, "to uplift Torah and enhance it."

בברכת כתיבה וחתימה טובה לכל בית הישיבה ותומכיו, בתוך כל קהת עדת ישראל הצופה לשמע תקיעת השופר הגדול,

אהרן ליכטנשטיין