The ninth Siyum Hashas of Daf Yomi in Madison Square Garden on Thursday was more than just a gathering to mark the completion of the study of Talmud.
The New York arena — where presidents have been nominated, rock-and-roll superstars confirmed, sports teams adored and heavyweight champions crowned — saw European-style Orthodoxy rise from what seemed to be defeat at the twin fists of the Holocaust and assimilation to reclaim its pre-eminence over the more “modern” factions of Orthodoxy, as 17,000 black-hatted men and 3,000 modestly dressed women packed the hall.
Though there were many in the assemblage who completed the Daf Yomi (page-a-day) study of the Talmud in such “modern” or “centrist” strongholds as Young Israels or in groups led by Yeshiva University graduates, even they seemed to acknowledge the surrender of their theological faction by covering their trademark knitted kipot with the widebrimmed black fedoras that reflect the European-Orthodox ethos.
The siyum, organized by Agudath Israel of America, was dedicated to those who died in the Holocaust. The 20,000 assembled stood for a recitation of Kaddish and El Moleh Rachamim, traditional prayers for the dead.
SUNG AS A REQUIEM
That was followed by a haunting, dirge-like version of Ani Ma’amin, the affirmation of faith in the coming of the Messiah that was once sung by thousands on the way to gas chambers and was now being sung as a requiem by the standing, swaying multitude at Madison Square Garden.
Psalms were also recited for Soviet Jewry, and there was a rousing version of L’shana Haba’ah B’Yerushalayim — Next Year in Jerusalem.
The evening was bracketed by what many felt were particularly beautiful and transcendant prayer services — what someone suggested was the largest minyan since the Holy Temple was destroyed 2,000 years ago.
At souvenir stands, where people purchased pocket-sized commemorative editions of the Talmud, thousands also rented FM radios through which English-speaking Talmudists could listen to a simultaneous translation of the proceedings that were almost entirely in Yiddish, as if midtown Manhattan was Lodz or Lublin, where earlier siyumim were held in the 1930s.
One of the few who spoke in English was Rav Simon Schwab, of Congregation K’hal Adath Jeshurun in Washington Heights.
Schwab, who was born in Germany and educated in Lithuania, recalled that “America was considered the treif medina, (the land of the forbidden). Even the stones were considered treif. Those at the first siyum (in Lodz) could not have envisioned this.”
Schwab explained that the learning of Daf Yomi is Torah L’shmah, Torah learning for its own sake, one of the purest, least ego-oriented enterprises in the Jewish community: “No diplomas are handed out, no honors, no awards.”
Sitting in front of over 150 rabbis on the massive stage and looking out at the crowd representing a multitude of different Orthodox institutions, Schwab noted that Daf Yomi unites the entire “Torah community.”
Indeed, Rav Meir Shapiro, who first proposed the seven-and-a-half-year Daf Yomi cycle at an Agudah convention in 1923, conceived the program as a unifying umbrella over the increasingly diverse and international Jewish community.
Shapiro pointed out that Jewish unity is visible on every page of Talmud, which includes a Mishnah written in Israel, Gemarah written in Babylonia, the codes of the Rif written in Morocco, Rambam written in Egypt, Rashi and Tosfot written in France, and the Maharam written in Poland.
LINEUP OF RABBIS
The Garden traditionally hangs a banner from its ceiling proclaiming “613,” the number of victories by Knicks basketball coach Red Holzman, but on this night the packed arena understood that number to only mean the number of commandments in the Torah.
The arena’s giant scoreboard was used to announce that the afternoon or evening services could be found on page 61 of the souvenir program. The scoreboard also announced in bright lights the “lineup” of rabbis at the microphone: The Bluzhover rebbe, Rav Zvi Spira; The Novo-minsker rebbe, Rav Yaakov Perlow, and so forth.
The transformation of the Garden seemed most surrealistic in the holding-areas behind the stage, where austere rabbis and their side-curled entourages stood amid the Ringling Brothers & Barnum and Bailey circus wagons, hoops and paraphernalia, while the stench of elephants filled the air and the honking of an unseen animal menagerie was heard through doors and walls.
Off to the side, teen-agers ignored the speakers on stage as they huddled backstage with Garden personnel around black-and-white televisions showing a basketball game.
For the first time in the nine siyumim of Daf Yomi, women were allowed to attend; for one night, the Garden’s “blue seats,” the top-level balcony, made the arena resemble the two-tiered synagogues of pre war Poland.
These scats, usually the province of the most vulgar hockey fans, now was home to modest and predominantly young yeshiva women, who appreciated both their historic inclusion and the stunning panoramic view of the packed hall.
IN SUPPORT OF FAMILY
Though none of the women admitted to learning Daf Yomi, they were there in support of their fathers, husbands, brothers and sons. Many of the male and female students at the siyum came on class trips from as far away as Mexico City, Baltimore, Cleveland and Montreal.
One young Soviet woman, who arrived in New York just three weeks ago, didn’t have a ticket, but waited outside the sold-out arena, just to watch what seemed to be the ingathering of Jewish exiles to the Garden.
She hoped that somehow she would get a ticket, and somehow she got one. Once inside, looking out over the sea of 20,000 Jews committed to learning Torah, she told a reporter, “I cannot believe my eyes. I have never seen so many Jews together, learning, being friends.”
At the podium, a rabbi was saying that he hoped the messiah would arrive by the next siyum of the Talmud. For the Soviet woman, the messiah’s presence didn’t seem any more unlikely than her own.
The Archive of the Jewish Telegraphic Agency includes articles published from 1923 to 2008. Archive stories reflect the journalistic standards and practices of the time they were published.
