Dear Friends,
The High Holidays set many things in motion. On Rosh Hashanah we stand before the King; on Yom Kippur we are purified and forgiven; on Sukkot we rejoice, and Hoshanah Rabbah the last day of Sukkot, the verdict of our judgement is traditionally “delivered.” But the Bat Ayin (Rabbi Avraham Dov Ber of Avritch, a leading Chassidic master who later became the rabbi of Tzfas; 1765–1840) reveals a breathtaking insight: the true demonstration of our verdict comes three months later - on Chanukah.
He bases this on the story recorded in this week’s Torah portion Vayeisev, of Tamar, who was wrongly suspected of immoral behavior after her encounter with Yehudah. The Torah says, “Vayehi kimishlosh chodashim” - three months later, when her pregnancy became visible, she was brought out to be judged.
But it was precisely at that three-month moment - when all seemed incriminating - that Tamar produced the two objects proving her innocence: the seal and the cord and the staff. Her righteousness, hidden until then, suddenly shone forth. Tamar’s inner truth was not only judged - it was revealed.
The Bat Ayin explains that the same spiritual dynamic occurs with the Jewish people. Three months after Rosh Hashanah, a voice of accusation arises in Heaven. The Satan argues before the Almighty Judge: “The inspiration of the High Holidays has faded. The awe has worn off. Look—Your people have already slipped away.” This is the Tamar-moment of the Jewish soul.
And just as Tamar revealed her “seal, cord and staff” to demonstrate her fidelity, we reveal ours through the observance of Chanukah - three months after the Days of Awe. The seal evokes the chotam -seal of the Kohen Gadol, symbol of our loyal identity. The wick (p’tillah) evokes the flame of steadfast devotion—still burning, still rising. Every candle is our testimony: The fire is still alive. The staff is the Menorah - alluded to by the Hebrew word “Kli” - untensil/Menorah, the same numerically as staff. The inspiration did not fade. We remain faithful and strong.
Thus Chanukah becomes the final expression of our Rosh Hashanah judgment - the moment the Jewish people prove that the commitments of Tishrei were not temporary emotions, but enduring truths, now shining as light.
And fittingly, Chanukah is joyous. Chassidim always conclude the solemn High Holiday prayers with a joyful niggun, signaling confidence in a favorable verdict. Chanukah continues that same joy—the joy of a vindicated judgment.
On Monday, erev Yud-Tes Kislev - another day of light after darkness—I officiated at the funeral of Saul Berkov, a proud Russian Jew whose life embodied perseverance and faith.
Two years ago, doctors believed he was at the end. I visited him in the hospital. He held my hand, and we sang together. His favorite song was “Nyet, Nyet Nikavo.” Many know the melody; fewer know the meaning. Its words - simple yet defiant - declare:
“There is no one besides Him.” No force, decree, prediction, or circumstance governs the Jewish soul - only G-d.
As I looked into Saul’s eyes that day, I saw unmistakable life - fire refusing to go out. With all due respect to medical expertise, I told his family: this is not his end.
And it wasn’t. Saul lived two more full years.
At his funeral, his daughter Sofie asked if it would be appropriate to sing “Nyet, Nyet Nikavo.”
So as his casket descended to its resting place, we sang.
We sang a song of faith as his soul ascended.
It was a joyous ending in the deepest sense - not happiness, but profound confidence in a favorable eternal judgment. Much like Chanukah, when our inner light pushes back against doubt and accusation, Saul’s final moments were filled not with despair but with song - testimony to a life of fidelity and unbroken fire.
Marching Toward Geulah in Song
Chanukah teaches that the Jewish story ends not with fear but with song; not with uncertainty, but with radiant confidence. We seal our judgment not with ink but with flame. We answer prosecution not with arguments but with light.
Saul’s final escort was a living Chanukah—the wick, the melody, the unshakable faith that “Nyet, Nyet Nikavo.”
As we enter Chanukah, may we take that song into our homes, our hearts, and our world. And may it become the niggun with which we march—joyfully, steadily—toward the light of the final Geulah, speedily in our days.
Wishing you a joyous and, luminescent Chanukah.
Good Shabbos and Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Ruvi New