Seven Becomes Eight 

IF ever a current of spiritual electricity could be felt, it would probably be during those epic moments on Simchas Torah when the final pesukim of V’Zos Habrachah are read aloud. With a tallis draped overhead, the crush of people lean in closely as the baal korei, in a ringing voice, calls out the saddest words ever written.

“Vayamas sham Moshe eved Hashem — and Moshe died there, a servant of Hashem.”

It’s over. The man who led, prayed, taught, cared, and cried, is gone. We all felt like we knew him so well. Ever since he was introduced to us in parshas Shemos, we watched his every move, analyzed his every word. And now he’s gone. The pesukim continue, words of a final tribute to the greatest man who ever lived. And then the baal korei’s voice raises a notch and, in a booming declaration, cries out the final pasuk: “Ul’chol hayad hachazakah, ul’chol hamoreh hagadol asher asah Moshe l’einei kol Yisrael — and for all the great might and immense fear that Moshe displayed before all Yisrael.”

In response we all proclaim, “Chazak chazak v’nischazek!”