Well, well, well. Not to be outdone by COLlive, CrownHeights.info has started publishing its own set of low-IQ op-eds written by people (read: ChatGPT) that offer up the dumbest, most boilerplate useless opinions. With the upcoming joyous holiday of Simchas Torah, there has to be some snaggy, whiny, sanctimonious moral policeman ready to confiscate our fun. So they hand the microphone to Berke Chein, a man who writes like someone who has never danced, just slowly swayed while judging everyone else who was having fun.
If you are going to scold the public, at least do it intelligently. But no, this guy dives straight into the usual moralistic gibberish, where half the “insights” are just words arranged in random order to sound holy. So, without further ado, let’s dive right into this drivel, Modern Rashi style!
On Simchas Torah we hold the Torah closed. We don’t start by reading. We don’t start with words. We start by dancing. By carrying it close. By circling together with joy. That picture says something. If the Torah is closed, we shouldn’t need to start with all the bottles open. We certainly shouldn’t need them all empty before Hakafos begin.
Well, this is just illogical stupidity. The Torah being closed and the bottles being open have literally zero to do with each other. The Torah is closed because we finished it, Berke, not because G-d is sending you a coded message about liquor control. This is Simchas Torah, not a Puritan retreat. There is no secret metaphysical link between scrolls and screw caps that we need Rabbi Berke Chein to help us reveal. On Shabbos, our siddurim are open, but the aron kodesh is closed. No one writes 900 words about it. Maybe next week Berke will explain the deep spiritual symbolism of shnitzel shapes at kiddush. Still not sure what kind of unsolicited moral instruction garbage CrownHeights.info thinks this passes for, but apparently sanctimony now counts as content.
The simcha of Yom Tov doesn’t come from what is in the glass. It comes from the Torah in our arms. From the circles we make. From the joy we bring with our own voices and feet.
The kind of line that sounds deep until you realize it’s just an Instagram caption wearing a yarmulke. Nobody said simcha comes from the glass. That’s just a pathetic strawman you’re erecting to confuse us. But the contents of the glass can help remove whatever internal chokehold your yeshiva education left on your joy circuits. It enhances the joy. Just because you’re a miserable person doesn’t mean you need to drag all of us down to your sad little level.
Does that mean nobody should drink? No. Kiddush is Kiddush. A Lchaim has its place. Have one or two, celebrate. But keep it mindful. Keep it measured. Never force it on someone else. Some choose not to drink at all for whatever reason. Respect that.
Ah yes, the obligatory “public service announcement” section. Because no sermon is complete without the Rabbinic Safety Tips:
- Do not pour for anyone who looks happier than you.
- Do not dance unless you’ve filled out the Simcha Compliance Form.
- If you see a Jew smiling, call Hatzolah. Could be joy poisoning.
The mitzvah of the day is simchas Torah. Joy in Torah. Not shikrus. Not bizayon haTorah.
No, the mitzvah of the day is simcha in Torah, not your personal moderation campaign. The biggest bizayon haTorah is turning joy into a compliance seminar. The Torah was given with thunder, lightning, and noise. Simchas Torah is the one night a year we match that energy. Some people get sloppy. That’s called being human. Policing joy in the name of “holiness” is how we ended up with Jews who confuse repression for refinement.
Go crawl back into the boring, miserable hole you clearly dwell in every other day of the year. Don’t crawl out when everyone else is about to have a good time just to throw water on their fire. I’m truly sorry that you are such a bitter man that this is how you celebrate Yom Tov: by stomping on the Yom Tov of others. Stop being a whiny little censor and try letting loose once in a while. You might accidentally make a friend.
This is what happens when people confuse holiness with supervision. When joy makes them nervous, they moralize it into submission. But the Torah is not afraid of dancing or of drinking. It is afraid of being reduced to a pamphlet for behavior management.
So yes, Berke, we will keep dancing, singing, and maybe even refilling. Because the Torah doesn’t close to shut us down. It closes so we can live it out loud, the way Jews have always done when they actually feel alive.
Gut Yom Tov. L’chaim!
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