From Blois to Beha’alotcha: The Lamps That Will Never Go Out
This week on Friday Erev Shabbos, the calendar brings us to the 20th of Sivan on Erev Shabbos. While it is no longer widely observed as a ta’anit tzibbur in our day, for centuries it occupied a significant place in the halachic calendar of Ashkenazi Jewry as a day designated for fasting, Tachnun, and Slichos.
The original takanah was established by Rabbeinu Tam following the Blood Libel of Blois, France, in the year 4931 (1171). Thirty-one Jewish men, women, and children were condemned al kiddush Hashem and burned at the stake on the basis of a completely fabricated accusation.
A contemporary Jewish chronicler records a remarkable detail. As the flames rose around them, the kedoshim did not cry out in despair. Instead, they began singing. Their voices grew stronger and stronger until they were heard proclaiming the words of Aleinu Leshabeach, affirming the sovereignty of Hashem even in their final moments.
Nearly five hundred years later, the Vaad Arba Aratzos formally re-established the 20th of Sivan as a permanent day of fasting and Slichos throughout Poland, Lithuania, and Ukraine to commemorate the devastating Gzeiros Tach V’Tat of 1648–1649. Tens of thousands of Jews were murdered, countless others suffered indescribable cruelty, and hundreds of kehillos were destroyed.
The 20th of Sivan thus became a lasting reminder of the heavy price paid throughout the generations for Jewish survival and fidelity to Torah.
When we speak about the calamities of Tach V’Tat, we are not discussing distant statistics. We are speaking about the lives of the greatest Torah leaders of that generation.
The foremost halachic authority of the era, Rabbi Shabtai HaKohen, the Shach, whose commentary on the Shulchan Aruch is studied in every beit midrash today, lived through the upheaval and devastation of those terrible years. The violence uprooted entire communities and forced countless families, including leading Torah scholars, to flee from place to place in search of safety.
The Shach himself composed a historical chronicle and kinah for the 20th of Sivan entitled Megillat Eivah, describing the horrors that befell the Jewish people during that period.
Linked to this era is a well-known tradition preserved in later Jewish sources. According to this account, while fleeing through the forests during the massacres, the Shach’s young daughter Esther became gravely ill and completely unresponsive. Hearing horsemen approaching and fearing they were murderous Cossacks, he faced an unimaginable decision. Believing the child had already passed away and fearing for the lives of the rest of his family, he left her behind and continued his flight.
According to the tradition, the approaching riders were not Cossacks but members of the Polish king’s hunting party. The child was discovered, revived by the royal physician, and brought to the royal palace. There she steadfastly maintained her Jewish identity despite considerable pressure to abandon it.
Years later, after eventually returning to Jewish life, she married a distinguished communal leader. When a harsh decree threatened the Jews of her region, she utilized connections from her years in the royal court to secure its annulment. Because of this, she became known as the “Queen Esther of Vilna.” Many years later she was reunited with her father when she recognized the distinctive sweetness of his Torah teaching.
Whether every detail can be historically verified or not, the enduring lesson remains clear. The lives of even the greatest Torah leaders were shattered by the devastation of Tach V’Tat. Yet the response of the Shach was not despair. He rebuilt. He taught. He wrote. He strengthened Torah. Through the Siftei Kohen and his other works, he helped preserve the spiritual infrastructure of Klal Yisrael for generations.
There is a striking connection between this historic day and the opening of this week’s parashah.
In Parashat Naso, the Torah devotes nearly ninety pesukim to the Chanuchat HaMizbeach. The Nesi’im bring magnificent offerings. The scene is one of national celebration, public ceremony, silver vessels, and golden utensils.
Immediately afterward, Parashat Beha’alotcha opens with Hashem’s command to Aharon HaKohen:
“When you kindle the lamps, the seven lamps shall cast their light toward the face of the Menorah.”
The Yalkut Shimoni teaches that Aharon’s heart became troubled. The Nesi’im had participated so prominently in the dedication, while neither he nor his tribe had been included.
Hashem reassured him:
“Shelcha gedola mishelahem” — yours is greater than theirs, for you prepare and kindle the lamps.
The Ramban asks an obvious question. In what sense was Aharon’s service greater? The offerings of the Nesi’im were magnificent and historic. Moreover, when the Beit HaMikdash was destroyed, the lighting of the Menorah ceased just as the offerings ceased.
The Ramban answers that Hashem was alluding to something much deeper.
The offerings of the Nesi’im were bound to the physical Mishkan. Aharon’s service, however, planted the seed for something that would endure long after the destruction of the Mikdash.
Centuries later, it would be Aharon’s descendants, the Chashmonaim, who would discover the flask of pure oil and rekindle the Menorah. From that act emerged the everlasting mitzvah of Chanukah, observed by Jews throughout the world to this very day.
The public grandeur of the Nesi’im was tied to a building. Aharon’s quiet avodah within the sanctuary became part of the eternal story of the Jewish people.
The Ramban is teaching more than history. He is teaching a fundamental principle of Jewish survival. The forces that appear most powerful at a given moment are often not the forces that shape Jewish eternity.
This contrast between the loud and the quiet, between what appears powerful and what actually endures, is the message of the 20th of Sivan.
Since the outbreak of the current war, the Jewish people have been living through a prolonged and exhausting struggle. We are surrounded by turmoil: rockets, military operations, diplomatic battles in international forums, and a constant stream of disturbing headlines.
Over time, fatigue sets in. We see the immense forces arrayed against us and may wonder whether the actions of one individual can truly make a difference.
The history of the 20th of Sivan answers that question.
The persecutors of Blois and the murderers of Tach V’Tat possessed armies, weapons, and political power. They seemed invincible. They dominated the headlines of their age.
Yet today they are gone. What remains?
The descendants of the Jews who quietly taught Torah to their children, observed Shabbos, kept kashrus, gave tzedakah, and remained faithful to Hashem. The Shach’s home was disrupted and his family scattered. Yet his answer was not surrender. His answer was Torah. Centuries later, Jews throughout the world continue to study the Siftei Kohen.
Our brothers and soldiers in Eretz Yisrael are displaying extraordinary courage in defending the physical existence of Am Yisrael. At the same time, the neshama of Am Yisrael is sustained through countless acts of quiet avodah performed every day by ordinary Jews.
When a person controls his temper, conducts business with complete honesty, sets aside time for limud Torah despite exhaustion, or performs an act of chesed that no one else will ever know about, he is following in the path of Aharon HaKohen. He is stepping away from the noise of the marketplace and entering the inner sanctuary to kindle another lamp.
The kedoshim of Blois sang Aleinu because they understood that they were part of an eternal chain. The crisis before them was temporary. Their testimony to Hashem was eternal.
We do not control the course of world events, nor can we silence the clamor of the nations. But Jewish history repeatedly demonstrates that the hidden engine of Netzach Yisrael is powered by the quiet faithfulness of ordinary Jews.
Every act of honesty, every moment of Torah study, every act of chesed, and every mitzvah performed with sincerity adds another drop of oil to Aharon’s Menorah.
Just as the lights of Aharon continued to illuminate Jewish history long after the Mishkan itself was gone, so too every mitzvah and every word of Torah adds light that endures from generation to generation and brings us closer to the ultimate geulah, במהרה בימינו.
