GIVE US SHALOM

By Harav Y. Reuven Rubin Shlita

“Reb Itche!” The name hovered over the crowded room. “Reb Itche, zing…zing Sim shalom, Reb Itche, sing, ‘Sim shalom.’“ With these few words, a flood of anticipation was unleashed. Reb Itche was a world-class chazzan, and when the Rebbe asked him to sing something special at the tisch, we all knew we were in for a spiritual treat.

I believe this occurred on chol hamo’ed Sukkos some forty-five years ago, but please don’t hold me to the exact date. It happened in Crown Heights, Brooklyn — that I remember well — and Reb Itche Strum Z”L had come all the way from London to be with the Bobover Rebbe Rav Shloma ztz”l.

When he heard the Rebbe’s request, Reb Itche tugged on his white beard, looked up to the heavens, cupped his ear with his hand, cleared his voice and with gusto called out, “Sim shalom,” “Give us peace.”

All at once those around him picked up a sort of chant, “Sim shalom shalom shalom, sim shalom shalom shalom.” Then Reb Itche, as if in answer to their call, sang, “Sim shalom tova u’vracha chaim chein vachessed verachamim, “Give us peace, goodness and blessing, life, grace, loving-kindness and mercy.” And the rest responded with the entrancing chant, “Sim shalom shalom shalom.”

Everyone would like peace; we each ask Hashem for it and try to figure out ways of achieving it.

The song became a magic vehicle of our joined souls. Its sweet cadences allowed each to take part, and we all followed Reb Itche as he led our voices to ever more pleasant places.

It is impossible to depict the solemn majesty of the Yiddishe soul immersed in song with mere words, but I want to share the memory with you. There we were, a crowd of some two hundred, all from varied backgrounds, yet all singing with one voice. We could not have been closer to each other, enthralled in this chanting, enchanting melody of peace led by a Yid fin der heim, “from the Old Country,” who still sought shalom after all the darkness he had experienced.

The memory came back to me this Shabbos while I was learning about these poignant words that we recite daily. They are stirring words that are worthy of attention, especially now in these troubled times.

What are we asking for here? And what can we do to attain it? Everyone would like peace; we each ask Hashem for it and try to figure out ways of achieving it. The problem is that we don’t really understand what we are asking for.

I can ask Hashem for good health or that I should be blessed with wealth. Such things are between Hashem and me as an individual. Peace comes from a different realm altogether, because peace involves a whole group of people, and so it is a goal that is vastly more complex. Peace comes from a higher place than any other gift. It has to be between me and my neighbor, me and those in different nations, me and Hashem, and, yes, vitally, me and my own self. I can’t ask only for peace for myself; automatically others are involved.

This is why we request, Sim shalom… — Hashem, put peace into the world. True peace is from that place where the whole world is one, and the only true Oneness is Hashem. However, we can help create the ambience that will allow for peace.

The prayer continues, tova u’vracha, “goodness and blessing.” Some think that if I don’t harm my neighbor, and he doesn’t plan on harming me, then we have peace. This is not the case, because the world is far from having a peace that constitutes “goodness” and “blessing.”

Sometimes people look at their neighbor without saying a word, but with their eyes they cut off the other’s wings and make him feel small.

 Others look at their neighbor, and with their eyes they make him feel strong and wonderful. This is what “goodness” and “blessing” are all about.

Gutte Yidden spoke about this constantly. According to them, having “good eyes,” eyes that create goodness, means that whenever they see something, they allow it to be greater and richer. Our tzaddikim explain that when someone looks at you benevolently, he is saying, “I wish you strength and goodness,” and at that moment, you actually gain an extra measure of strength. Tragically, the opposite can also happen. Mean, angry hearts create a mean, angry world.

Tova and berachah are the first two steps toward the peace of oneness, the peace of harmony, in which you have benevolent eyes, and wish only good for others. You see things with a positive inclination and become connected with others. This is similar to what happens when you make a beracha on food, elevating it to a higher realm.

Then we go further — we say, chaim, “life.” Chaim is even greater than “goodness” and “blessing,” for it is that place where everything happens. How many people live in this world for eighty or ninety years and never really experience true life? They exist in emptiness, without any real chein, “grace,” the next word in our plea. Theirs is an existence that is soul destroying, and so they seek distractions such as that which the world of “entertainment” offers. They are killing time, not living it. Chein brings the sweetness into our hearts; it makes our chaim, our life, eternal, as it truly is.

Yes, holy moments, times without anger, filled with blessing and grace, are eternal. These moments belong to the soul, which lives forever.

We finish this phrase with two more expressions: chessed and rachamim. Chessed means unreserved love, a love that is based on feelings that have been created through the practice of all the previous aspects mentioned. Then, finally, we come to rachamim, compassion, which in many ways brings us full circle. Yidden, we all need rachamim in these times, and perhaps we can start earning such compassion by showing it to others.

There was an American philosopher who once noted, “There are those who think they are thinking, when in fact they are only rearranging their own prejudices.” I know all Yidden are holy — only… we can lose our way sometimes and need some gentle reminding.

Reb Itche knew all about bringing peace. He sang and led others to sing with him. We sang of chaim, chein, vechessed… It was all there, in our hearts and souls. I can’t sing (really), but I try to bring that haunting message with my few scribbles and pray that we all may see rachamim, now and forever. Amen.