Whenever a holiday approaches, our streets convey an unusual dismal feeling. An intense longing asserts itself for the times of the ancient past.

Years ago, on festive occasions one felt and actually saw the holiday spirit everywhere, in the street as well as in the home. This was especially true during the days of the happy Succoth week.

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Those who remember the life of the old Jewish street, would know it, would feel it, and would get that deep yearning for those holidays of the past. Once the Day of Atonement was past there seemed to be a forerunner of the happy days to come.

After an entire day of fasting and humility, of riddance of sin and forgiveness, of prayers for one's salvation, of tears that wash clean the slate of one's soul; and as the day gradually gives way to night, the sinking sun with its last rays coloring the western edges of the sky, and as the last prayer is said one is certain that forgiveness has been granted him, one knows that all in his soul is written in the book of life together with that of his fellow Jews.

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After so many deep and heartfelt hours the Jew returns to his home with pride, and happiness, full of hope for a new year of life, health, and prosperity.

Soon afterwards there are the preparations for Succoth, which is interwoven with so many dear memories of that proud and happy Jewish life of the past. For eight full days, in every town and hamlet, there was celebration - the celebration of a holiday that makes a deep impression on one's mind, one that is unforgettable, one that calls forth a deep longing.

Everyone forgot his weekly quarrels and fault findings with his neighbors. Each and every Jew became part of one large Jewish family. Old men with 4long white beards were transformed into children. Everyone danced, jumped, and made merry. For eight days the surrounding unfriendly atmosphere of the Diaspora with its pains and sorrows was forgotten.

The Jewish spirit soared high above the insignificance of matter, overlooking all the cruelties meted out to them by the rest of the strange world. Just what worth and meaning did the world with its strength and riches have compared to the strength and height of the Jewish ideals, against the eternity of the Jewish moral principles, against the honor and enlightenment awaiting the Jewish people on the day of salvation when they shall be led out of the bitter Diaspora, to again establish their national home and again proclaim the freedom and self-independence of Israel, just as was the case in the old, old days of yore that brought this holiday into being.

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At one time, such feelings filled the heart of the Jew and left its mark on his later life.

This joy and happiness reaches it height on Simchos Torah. The synagogue would sparkle and shine, lit by the many candelebra and lamps. The dais was decorated with multicolored lanterns. With flags and candles in hand, the children cheeks aflame, eyes sparkling, waited impatiently for the Torah to be taken from its ark and the march around the platform to commence.

But look, what turmoil is this? The women have entered the men's synagogue disregarding the demarcation separating the sexes when at prayer. And that is not all. More surprises. A large groups of lusty and happy Jews have entered the synagogue with much shouting, noise, song, and dance. They run up to the pulpit, seize the Rabbi, lift him high. He squirms, makes lip motions, winks at the people, gesticulates.

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But his unspoken pleas are of no avail. The crowd disregards all set rules. They are happy and wish to instill this spirit in everything around them. Everyone must be happy today.

The prayers have been disturbed. From somewhere bottles of wine and brandy appear; the clicking of glasses resound and throughout the building there is a ringing sound and a deafening toast. They drink, they dance, young and old intermingle in one happy exalted group.

If an outsider, who is little acquainted with the Jewish soul, the threads of which are woven and interwoven, were to come in at such a moment he would have no idea of what was occurring before his very eyes. Why, not so long ago they stood on this same place full of misgivings, fear, sorrow, and tears; now suddenly, such hilarity! This would 7be entirely beyond his comprehension. But if he were not a stranger all this would be a simple psychological fact. It is the revolt of the Jewish soul which this Simchos Torah has come to call forth.

An old legend tells us that at the time Moses presented the Jews with the Torah at Mt. Sinai, not only were all the Jews present who escaped from Egypt, but also, all the souls of all future Jewish generations. At the mountain, all souls heard the immortal voice clearly proclaiming the "Ten Commandments." It warned: as long as they would adhere to these laws they would remain in their own land. The ground would yield its bounty, the silos would be full of grain, the cellars with wine. Every-one would be sated and strong, free and happy, they would instill fear in the hearts of their enemies, and none would dare to descend upon them.

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Thousands of years have past since the occurrence of this historical occasion. Many souls who had heard these holy words have descended from their heavenly tents to our earth, populating it with millions of Jewish lives. They saw the conditions of the Jews throughout the world. No Jewish land. Others have their silos filled with grain and cellars filled with wine, but not the Jew. Pleasure and rest is not his lot. The enemy oppresses him from all sides and life is dark and bitter. On the other hand, the ten little laws have assumed enormous proportions encasing strictness of regulations within its enclosure. Not a sign of happiness, joy, or warmth, everything is so clouded and dismal that the spirit grieves with longing.

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All year the Jewish soul carries its burden in silence. But here comes the holiday of our Torah, a living memory of Jewish history at a time when Jews were a free, happy, and independent nation. Our souls revolt. It sheds its cloak of the present and enters the spirit of our ever living history. The ties to our past are severed, so to speak, and rules disappear as we rejoice with a drop of the ever lasting well of our previous Jewish life. This then is the secret of our hilarity, laughter and shouting that one hears in the old Jewish synagogues on the happy evening of this holiday. When the holiday is over the soul again returns to its diaspora forgetting all that is eternal and beautiful. This festive day serves to sever the bonds of the day, permits the soul to revolt against existing conditions and lifts it into a sphere of life and happiness.

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Therefore, as previously stated, in olden days the holiday was forever present, out of doors, as well as in the home. But today it is different, there is so much fear in one's heart and such great longing for the days of yore.

There is one place where our holidays are still very much alive. That is in the old land of the Jews. There they have true celebrations because they are more free both politically and spiritually, and are in possession of their own land.

D. Oberson.