Clergy Reflection on Simchat Torah: Simchat Torah’s Evolution

I’m living in a phase of nostalgia. I have two favorite Jewish holidays, and depending on when you ask me, you’ll get a different answer—either Simchat Torah or Shavuot. Both are about Torah, but in such different ways: Shavuot is about receiving it for the very first time, and Simchat Torah is about celebrating it again and again as the cycle continues.

I have fond childhood memories of Simchat Torah. My religious school met twice a week with 30 sessions per year. If you attended every class, you were rewarded with perfect attendance parties after each trimester. And if you managed perfect attendance for the whole year, the big reward came on Simchat Torah: the honor of holding the Torah.

That meant oversized latex gloves, a shiny perfect attendance pin, and the chance to stand proudly as the Torah was unrolled around the entire sanctuary. The rabbi would walk the circle, paraphrasing all five books, while the scroll stretched like a ribbon around the walls. I remember the buzz of the room—kids whispering, parents leaning forward to take pictures, the shuffling of feet as the parchment slowly made its way around. Our job was simple but sacred: make sure the Torah didn’t touch the ground. The pride beamed from our faces—we knew we had worked hard to earn that honor.

It’s funny, because some people might assume I was forced into religious school and perfect attendance since my mother was the Religious School Director. But the truth is, I wanted it. I wanted to hold that Torah, to stand there and try to figure out which section of the story I was standing near.

When I became a teacher the holiday took on a new meaning. It was a joy to guide younger students as they held the Torah for the first time and to congratulate parents whose children had earned an honor I had achieved in my childhood. I could see their pride mirrored in mine, the same excitement I once carried.

Now, as an adult, I hold the Torah differently. I can point to the words, read them, and even understand what I’m reading. I can scroll to the “cool parts” on purpose. But I also feel the weight of it differently—not just the scroll in my arms, but the history, the tradition, and the privilege of being part of its story.

The evolution of this fall holiday mirrors the spiral evolution of my own learning: as a child, wonder; as a teacher, responsibility; as an adult, deeper understanding. Simchat Torah has grown with me, and it will always remain a touchstone. It is both joyful and nostalgic, a reminder that every year—and every stage of life—Torah can feel new again.