Daf Yomi: A perpetually-additive, never redundant cycle

We complete cycles each day: the circadian rhythm that drives our waking hours is a cycle; eating three meals a day is a cycle; commuting in rush-hour traffic is a cycle. Some cycles, though, become meaningful through repetition. There are many cycles on the Jewish calendar, too. Counting the Omer is a cycle; so is “Mashiv Ha’Ruach U’Morid Ha’Gashem” during the Amidah. We have the cycles of the Jewish calendar, and we have the cycles of Jewish culture. Every seven and a half years, as a relevant example, individuals, shiurim, and chavrutot complete the study of the entire Talmud, the multi-volume collection of Mishna and commentary that sets the foundation for Jewish legal and ethical thinking. The Talmud’s millennia-old wisdom is reviewed day-by-day and year-by-year, and after the cycle is completed, it is begun again. We turn back to the starting page and review the whole volume for another seven and a half years.

This year marks, for me, the beginning of my fourth decade studying Talmud; I started as a ninth grader at the Brooklyn Talmudical Academy (BTA), in 1972. What impressed me then were the personalities of the Talmud; the larger-than-life names of Rav Ashi, Rabbi Akiva, Rav, Rabban Gamliel, Ravina, and others. More than the halakhic principles, as a ninth-grader I wanted to know these people and express to them my gratitude—my hakarat ha’tov—for their contributions to my world. Of course, all of these individuals have been gone from this world for thousands of years, but each time I complete a cycle of daf yomi, I am reminded of that time in 1972 when I wanted to thank these powerhouse rabbis. So while I cannot personally express my gratitude to the personalities of the Talmud, I can, as the daf yomi cycle ends and begins again, express my hakarat ha’tov to the modern-day rabbis whose influence has shaped me into the man, the learner, the parent, and the professional I am today.

Four rabbis hold the distinction of earning my perpetual hakarat ha’tov. Rabbi David Halpern, Rabbi Chaim Berger, Rabbi Zvi Bajnon, and Rabbi Hirschel Billet have each made an indelible imprint on my thoughts, actions, and reflections much like the anshei k’neset ha’gedolah who developed the Talmud and left lasting imprints on the Jewish people. Rabbi Halpern, who just retired after 60 years as the Rabbi of the Flatbush Park Jewish Center in Mill Basin, was my rabbi since my teenage years. His support and guidance during the challenging period of my mother’s illness and eventual death in 2006 were so meaningful to me, they escape articulation. And his continued reminders about my duty as a son and my need to secure “eternity” for myself through my obligations to my parents remain a buoy for me even in the choppiest waters.

Rabbi Bajnon, first as my Math teacher at BTA in 1972 and then again as my son’s Judaic Principal at HAFTR in 1998, added to my understanding of fatherhood. He not only initiated my study of Talmud and solidified a number of religious practices that persist till today, but he impressed upon me the importance—both for me and for my children—that I consistently and observably engage in the practice of mitzvoth. Rabbi Bajnon, in 1998, made it evident to me that my children’s memories of me will be affected by the mitzvoth and the acts of chesed I engage in throughout my adult life. Almost two-decades earlier, Rabbi Berger, my rabbi throughout my stay in Kansas City, Missouri from 1980-1983, gave me the opportunity to engage in visible and meaningful mitzvoth. As a young married man, I served on a Beit Din, on the Vaad of Kashrut, and on the Chevra Kadisha; I expanded my involvement in the Jewish community, but more importantly, I learned the importance of chesed shel emet—true chesed that cannot be reciprocated—and of k’vod ha’meit. Rabbi Berger impressed upon me the lesson of the chevra kadisha—if you show so much respect to the bodies of the deceased, how much more so should I show kavod ha’chai—honor and dignity to the living.

The final rabbi for whom I have perpetual hakarat ha’tov has been my family’s rabbi since we moved to Woodmere in 1987. As rabbi of the Young Israel of Woodmere, Rabbi Billet has encouraged me to carpe diem, seize the day, at each opportunity. Whenever I dithered or procrastinated when it came to a decision that would affect me religiously, personally, or professionally, Rabbi Billet would remind me of the fleeting opportunities this life provides. His encouragement to take advantage of the chances I have been given has been a tremendous reason for much of my success in life. In sum, these four rabbis have added dimension to my life that I could not have imagined forty years ago.

As the crowds gather for the grand siyyum upon the completion of the study of Talmud, I see this moment as the perfect time to begin the cycle of perpetual gratitude again. My hakarat ha’tov extends from the anshei k’neset ha’gedolah who sat over a thousand years ago and whose words contributed to the Talmud, and it stretches to these four rabbis who, for four decades, have shaped me into who I am today.