SEPT 26, ‘25 // to get the blessings, Yitzchok smelled his clothes. “The smell of my son is the smell of Gan Eden!” he proclaimed. What was the pleasant smell that Yakov carried with him? The smell of the lowliest of Klal Yisroel that rise to great heights as soon as their hearts are penetrated. (Medrash Rabba) Meir was a simple Jew. A peddler by trade, he spent most of his days traveling from village to village, selling his wares. As time passed, his davening and Mitzvah observance began to suffer. Being far away from home and having constant contact with coarse peasants, had an effect on him. Slowly he stopped going to Shul and practiced nothing, besides the bare basics of Yiddishkeit. The year was 1939. Poland lay in ruins, as the Nazis overran its many cities and villages. Meir was home when the Nazis gathered all the Jews for a “fun session.” Randomly choosing Meir, they ordered him to kick and spit at the Sefer Torah they placed in the middle of the square. Slowly, as if in a dream Meir walked towards the Sefer Torah. Simchas Torah was one of the only days that he went to Shul, and he remembered how tenderly the Rav had held the Sefer Torah, expressing so much love and awe through his dancing. He bent down, picked up the Sefer Torah, and grasped over it close to his heart. He hadn’t kept most of its commandments, but he revered it nonetheless. He loved it! And so he danced with his heart and soul, clutching the Sefer Torah in a tight grip. He heard nothing. Not the shouts of his brother, nor the curses of his oppressors. He danced and danced, the dance of an angel, until a hail of bullets killed him and his Sefer Torah… The smell of a lost Jew – paradise! Yom Kippur, at the end of a long day of fasting and prayer, we take the shofar and blow one long blast. The Shechina, so close to us the entire day, is retreating. The call is piercing, it slashes through our hearts to free the angle within. Hashem, help it stay that way, forever. Say the angels on high to Hakadash Baruch Hu, every morning: “Master of the world, we want to sing to You!” Says Hashem Yisborach to His heavenly servants: “Before you sing, I want to hear my children pray. Their prayers down there, are sweeter to me than your prayers up here.” Are Yidden as pure and holy as angels? Nay, they are loftier than angels. 170
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