This is the first Shabbat of the rest of the year. Last Shabbat was still part of Tishrei, the High Holiday month. That month is filled with so many festive days that it leaves us reeling with excitement.

However, Tishrei has ended, and the ordinariness has arrived. It is easy to grow melancholy and homesick for the excitement, inspiration, and pleasures of the holidays. Of course, I am talking about the meals, the family visits, and the guests. I am also referring to the culinary delights that grace our table during the chagim. The apples dipped in honey on Rosh Hashanah and the honey surrounded by bees in the sukkah.

But I am also talking about the uplifting Mitzvot related to the holidays. The stirring reverence inspired by the Shofar’s solemn call. The new year is dawning. The failures of the past fall away as the stark clarity of determination directs our resolutions for the year ahead. We miss those transcendental moments that weave inspiration with joy and reverence with awe.

We miss the saintliness and sanctity of Yom Kippur. The fast drains us, but it also lifts us out of the mundane. On this day, we escape the pull of food and drink. For 25 hours, we live with a complete focus on G-d and holiness. We don’t worry about shopping, cooking, table setting, serving, and cleanup. We think not of menus and the culinary preferences of our guests. Fasting is draining, but it is also liberating.

And that liberation is felt most vividly at the end of the fast when the entire congregation roars from the depths of its heart, summoning the purity of their souls in the ancient declaration of Jewish faith, Shema Yisrael, Hashem Elokenu, Hashem Echad. The thrill of the singing and dancing that follow catapult us into a new stratosphere of positive anticipation for the coming year. It turns a key in our souls and opens the door to the joy of Sukkot.

Then there is the supreme exhilaration of sitting in the Sukkah surrounded and immersed in a Mitzvah; enveloped in G-d’s love and embraced by his hug. The knowledge that even mundane things and simple foods are holy in G-d’s Sukkah. There is nothing more uplifting. We take our joy outdoors as we raise our voices in boisterous songs and clap our hands in delight. Our feet lift us up as if unbidden as we dance and bring our joy to the world at large.

Then comes the exhilaration of Simchat Torah when all bets are off, and our merriment goes through the roof. We cling to the Torah with rapturous elation and dance in blissful ecstasy. Nothing comes between a Jew and the Torah. The Torah rejoices, dancing with us and through us as we become the Torah’s feet. It is an unbridled joy. A pure joy from the essence of the soul. The Jew and G-d. The Jew and the Torah. It is the peak. The apex. The highest experience of the year.

Taken together, these holidays are the portal into the rest of the year. They set the tone and inject vitality and vibrancy into the year to come.

However, as I describe the holidays, an inevitable question arises: How can the arrival of the routine days be met by anything but melancholy and longing? Don’t we pine for the excitement? Don’t we yearn for the inspiration? Does the prosaic month of Cheshvan not seem plain compared to Tishrei?

The Inauguration in Waiting
Allow me to share a story that is told in the Midrash. The Tabernacle that Jews built in the desert was completed on the twenty-fifth day of Kislev. Do you recognize that date? Of course, it is the first day of Chanukah. But Chanukah would not occur for another millennium. Imagine how dejected this day felt when the inauguration of the tabernacle was postponed to the first of Nissan. Why should I have to step aside for that day, no matter how special it is? The tabernacle was completed on my day!

G-d consoled the twenty-fifth day of Kislev by acknowledging that it was right; however, a very special holiday awaited it. When that day comes, you will understand why I kept your calendar clear. Indeed, the twenty-fifth day of Kislev is a special day for the rest of time. Nothing compares to the excitement in the Jewish heart when we light the first Chanukah candle. Nothing sparks as much hope as the lone candle that braves the cold darkness and prevails. That is the true power of this day. Kislev was consoled.

Well, guess what? G-d went and did it again. Only this time, He has still not answered the call. Did you know that King Solomon completed the first Temple in the month of Cheshvan, the ordinary month we are in right now? This month has not a single holiday. You can only imagine how dejected this month feels when compared to its super-power neighbor. You can also imagine how thrilled Cheshvan was that it could now boast of at least one holiday, the inauguration of the Temple.

And what do you think G-d did? He instructed King Solomon to postpone the inauguration for the following Tishrei! What a slap in the face to Cheshvan. It’s one hope snuffed out. And who would get the honor instead? The one month that doesn’t need another holiday. If it had lost to Tamuz or Av, Cheshvan might have lived with it. But does Tishrei really need another holiday? It’s like the Chicago Cubs losing the World Series to the New York Yankees. Do the Yankees really need another victory banner?

So, G-d told Cheshvan to pipe down. It too would be rewarded one day. When Mashiach comes, the third Temple will be built in Cheshvan (Yalkut Shimoni, Melachim 184).

From Ordinary to Eternity
Oh My. You think Kislev had to wait a long time for Chanukah; Cheshvan is still waiting! And what is it waiting for? For you and me to stop feeling melancholy and realize that the ordinary achievements of the everyday are the stuff from which Mashiach is made.

Imagine Einstein was lecturing at Carnegie Hall. Every academic in the world comes to listen. Everyone in the room is seeking enlightenment. Einstein is thinking about the paycheck that will put dinner on his family’s table. No one but his family is thinking about that, but for Einstein, that’s what it is all about.

If we see life from our perspective, the exciting months lift us up and the plain months bring us down. We feel bad coming down from such highs. But from G-d’s perspective, the everyday months pack the greatest punch. His only purpose in Creation was that we make the world into what He intended it to be (Rashi, Genesis 2:3). To bring holiness to this world. To make it a home for G-d. (Tanchuma, Naso 16).

This is not achieved by the spiritual inspirations of the High Holidays. It is achieved by filling our ordinary day, out in the world, the workplace, the mall, the stadium, and the theater, with holiness. The High Holidays are only the inspiration for these fantastic achievements, but on their own they achieve little. Of course, they inspire, but the big achievement, from G-d’s perspective, begins this month. When unremarkable days return. When normal tasks resume. And when we do them with holiness and integrity.

Indeed, this month waits for us to rise and achieve greatness in G-d’s eyes. Not for this month is an inauguration that would one day be mourned when the Temple was destroyed. This month is set aside for eternal achievements. For the inauguration of a Temple that will last forever.

Tit turns out that the month that seems to have nothing is waiting to contain everything.[1]

[1] This essay is based on Toras Menachem 5784:1, pp. 395–401.