You are standing today, כולכם — all of you, before your G-d — your heads of your tribes, and your elders, and your officers, — כל איש ישראל all the men of in Israel.

On this last day of Moshe's life, he gathered every man, woman and child, initiating them into the covenant of G-d.

The verse seems redundant. It begins with Moshe addressing כולכם — 'all of you', everyone, but then goes on to enumerate several prominent groups, and closing by reiterating that he is speaking to כל איש ישראל — every member of our nation.

The Midrash poses this question, answering it by explaining Moshe's intended message.

"Although I have enumerated your officers, judges, and elders, know that all of you — כל איש ישראל, are equal before me."

If this is so, why is it necessary to state the first assertion of כולכם — all of you. Simply add the last emphasis of 'all members' — even the not so prominent ones — are counted too?

Equally intriguing is the conclusion that all of you are 'equal' before me.

Is a 'Stam Yid', a pashuter Yid, indeed truly equal to person who strove to attain perfection in his service to Hashem, having reached a position of stature indicative of his personal investment and accomplishment? 

The late illustrious and dynamic Rosh HaYeshiva, HaRav Boruch Mordechai Ezrachi zt'l, offers a powerful elucidation of this Midrash.

Moshe when speaking to the nation, states first, אתם נצבים — You are all standing. This isn't referring simply to a vertical stance but rather connotes standing at attention with all one's talents, one's personality, one's sense of responsibility, one's sense of mission, prepared to implement it for a greater cause. The next word in the opening phrase, You are standing, כולכם — 'all of you', is not a reference to their numbers, but to their 'being', the 'whole of you', intimating the desire to 'give it your all'.

Moshe then continues to list several of the more prominent members of our people — officers, judges, elders — who play important roles in the furtherance of our collective mission. However, he intentionally adds that even if you are not a 'holy roller' and just, כל איש ישראל — a Stam Yid — a seemingly tangential piece of a larger machine, you must realize G-d is looking equally toward 'your' כולכם — give it your all moment.

The late famed Maggid, HaRav Reuven Elitzur Karelenstein, retells an enlightening account that took place at an Arachim seminar some years ago.

At the end of each seminar attendees share what prodded them to return to observance. A doctor stood up to share his story.

This doctor was living a secular lifestyle at that time in Northern Tel Aviv, a bastion of left-wing attitudes, as he was taking his daily morning run in preparation for an extra long day at his clinic, he notices a religious Jew enthusiastically rushing to Shul holding his Lulav and Esrog. The doctor suddenly recalls a vague memory of what he was taught in elementary school about the holiday of Sukkot and the taking of the four species. Out of curiosity he decides to finally find out what it is all about. He runs home to shower and change, puts on respectable clothes and grabs from the back of his closet an old silk tallit he received at his Bar Mitzva, wrapping it like a scarf around his neck and heads to the synagogue.

On the way to Shul, he comes upon one of his patients jogging. Noticing his tallit and knowing he is far from religious observance and tradition, she asks him incredulously, "What's going on?" His first reaction is to wish her a Chag Sameach, to which she wryly responds, "Boker Tov". He statedly repeats his greeting, "Chag Sameach", with her once again flatly saying "Boker Tov!", refusing to acknowledge the notion of this 'chag'.

She finally challenges him, asking him why a totally secular Jew as himself is wearing a symbol of religion, the tallit. He responds simply asserting, "אני סתם יהודי" — "I am a simple Jew. What's the big deal if I dress up once like a Yid? If I was an Indian and wore a feather headdress, would you be so shocked? "  

They each bid good day to each and go their different ways.

His visit to the Shul was less than inspiring. And life returned to normal routine.

Many months later this woman meets up with her doctor at a scheduled appointment. The doctor enters the room observing her dressed modestly in chareidi garb, and this time, he poses the query, "What is going on?"

She calmly responds, "It is all your fault!"

Seeing his baffled look on his face, she admits that it was his comment those many months prior, that got her thinking that led to her transforming her life.

"What is it that could have possibly caused such a sudden change?", he inquired. 

"Do you remember that when I asked you what's with the tallit, you pithily said, 'I am a Stam Yehudi?'   

Stifling tears she continued, "You know, I was born on a kibbutz and raised in an anti-religious atmosphere. I left after I got married and lived in Tel Aviv. On one occasion when I visited the old kibbutz my father, with a weighty voice, said he wanted to share something with me. He began to recount how at the age of twelve he was on a train to Auschwitz with his mother. As we were approaching a station, she coaxed me to leap from the train and escape inevitable death. As he fled, he recalled his mother's last words instructing him to always remember one thing, that even if he must mingle among gentiles to survive, he should always say to himself, "I am a Stam Yid! I am a StamYid!" Not long after that he was confronted by a Nazi soldier asking him to identify himself. Remembering his mother's words he instinctively responded, "I am a Stam Yid." The Nazi who had never encountered such Jewish pride, was so smitten by it he let him go. And that’s how he somehow survived to get to this day.

"Years later my mother passed, and my father was suffering from dementia. With the diminishing of his awareness of his surroundings and circumstance all he would mumble incessantly, "I am a Stam Yid! I am a Stam Yid." It was during that period in my life, that I ran into you and heard you remark that you were a Stam Yid.  It was no coincidence in my mind that there was a message for me in this interaction, and I began my journey into discovering the true beauty of what it means to be a 'Stam Yid', and here I am a very proud 'Stam Yid!'"

The doctor went on to retell how he too, an avowed atheist immersed in a world of immorality, was shaken into reality and began searching and discovering his true self, a very holy 'Stam Yid'. 

Despite being raised a totally secularized Jew, in a moment of inner greatness, the doctor didn't shy away from his patient's challenge, but 'proudly' connected to his core 'Stam Yid', that Moshe spoke of.

The patient who initially scoffed at her doctor, in a moment of divine providence accepted the challenge setting into motion an infectious illumination of the greatness that exists within each one of us — to be a Stam Yid.

Our lives are often so distracted from reality that we lose our focus of being an authentic Simple Yid.

It is not for naught we read this portion before Rosh Hashana. We are accountable. We are capable. We each possess the greatness to become a Stam Yid.

באהבה,

צבי יהודה טייכמאן