A   N E W   D A N C E for Simchat Torah Brought to you by ArtScroll. "Ow," moaned Yishai. "Oow." "What's the matter?" asked his mother. "Ow," he groaned. "My foot hurts." "Take off your shoe and sock," said Mrs. Brown. "Let's see. Hmm, you've got a bump on the ball of your foot. I'll call Dr. Rofeh." When the time for the appointment came, Yishai walked to the car very, very slowly in order not to hurt his sore foot. "It's a wart," declared the doctor. "You'll have to dab on the medicine twice a day. Come back for a checkup in two weeks- right after Simchat Torah." Yishai followed Dr. Rofeh's instructions diligently. It was very important that the wart be gone by Simchat Torah. Yishai was looking forward to Simchat Torah. It was his favorite holiday. He liked to dance and sing and to catch the candies that were thrown into the air. But this Yom Tov was going to be the best yet, because now he had his own little Torah scroll. Yishai loved the paper Torah with its blue and gold cover. This Simchat Torah, he would dance with it in shul, together with all the men and boys. But the days passed, and the wart on his foot still hurt when he stepped on it. At last the big night came. Yishai, dressed up in his new suit and carrying his little Torah, hobbled to shul with his father. Toward the end of Maariv the fun began. The chairs were pushed aside to make room for hakafos. The Torah scrolls were taken out of the ark, the Rav chanted the prayer, Ata Hareisa, and the men began to dance. Candies were thrown in the air and the children scrambled to catch them. Yishai held his small Torah, sat in one corner and watched. He couldn't dance because his foot hurt. Once in a while he caught a candy that came his way. But mostly he just sat alone, feeling sorry for himself. The corners of his mouth were turned down, and he fought to hold back the tears. How he had waited for this night, and now that it was here he couldn't enjoy it. Just when the whole world looked dark, Yishai noticed Reb Shalom the Shamash, and he couldn't help smiling a drop. Reb Shalom was a tall man who always had a twinkle in his eyes and a warm smile on his lips. It was whispered that he had suffered much during his life, but you would never guess it, he was so full of joy. Tonight, the six-footer was dancing ecstatically, with a little Torah scroll only fourteen inches high. Before long, Reb Shalom spotted Yishai sitting on the side looking lost. He came over, still carrying his Torah, pulled up a chair, and sat down beside the boy. "Good Yom Tov," said Reb Shalom. "Good Yom Tov," said Yishai. "That's a nice little Sefer Torah," said Reb Shalom. "I was just going to say the same thing to you," said Yishai. "I know why boys have little Torahs, but I've never seen an adult with one. Is it real?" "Yes, indeed," said Reb Shalom. "During World War II, I rescued this little Torah from our enemies who wanted to burn it. It was small enough to stick into my satchel. Now I keep it in shul. Every Simchat Torah, I take it out and dance with it." At the mention of dancing, a pained expression crossed Yishai's face. "You don't look too happy tonight," remarked Reb Shalom sympathetically. Yishai nodded. "Would you like to talk about it?" Yishai looked at Reb Shalom's face. It was so full of concern that it made Yishai feel like talking. "It's my foot. I've got a wart that hurts when I step on it, so I can't dance. And what fun is Simchat Torah if you can't dance?" "What part of the foot is it on?" asked Reb Shalom. Yishai pointed. "Uhuh," said Reb Shalom thoughtfully. "Yishai, it seems to me that you have two pains: the pain of the wart and the pain of not being able to dance on Simchat Torah." "Yes," he said, grateful that someone understood how he felt. "I wish I could help you get rid of the wart," said Reb Shalom, "but unfortunately I can't. Maybe, though, I can help you get rid of the pain of not being able to dance." "You can?" asked Yishai hopefully. "Actually, you are going to do it," said Reb Shalom. "If you turn on a radio, can you hear two stations at once?" "No," said Yishai. "Well, your mind is like that radio. You can't hear two stations at once. You can tune into sad thoughts that will make you miserable, or you can tune into happy thoughts that will cheer you up. The choice is yours. Now, which do you choose?" "Happy thoughts, of course," said Yishai. "Good," said Reb Shalom. "You have just taken the first step." Yishai felt a little better knowing that he had done something right. "Are you ready to take the second step?" "Sure." "Alright, what happy thoughts can you think of?" The clouds returned to Yishai's face. "What is there to be happy about?" "Let's see," said Reb Shalom. "Do your hands hurt?" "No. They're doing a good job of holding my Sefer Torah." "So be happy that your hands are well. Next, how are your ears?" "Fine," said Yishai. "I can hear the singing. Lively, isn't it?" "How is your throat feeling?" "Wonderful. In fact, I feel like singing along. Vetaheir libeinu…" Yishai began to sing, and Reb Shalom joined him. After a while, Yishai said to Reb Shalom, "I see what you're getting at. I can be grateful for all the parts of my body that are healthy. In fact, I can even be happy that most of my foot is all right. My toes are fine and my heel is fine…" "That's it!" exclaimed Reb Shalom. "I can show you how to dance on your heels." With that, Reb Shalom jumped up. His free arm waved in the air and his head bobbed up and down as he danced on his heels. Then he pulled Yishai to his feet. Together, Reb Shalom and Yishai, each holding his own small Torah, danced on their heels into the circle of men and boys to join the hakafos.