October is the perfect month for the reading of Parshat Noach. It is at this time of year that our entire world becomes murky and damp; the bright, sunny summer and its ambience of excitement is now but a memory, and all its vivid colors and discrete organisms, flora and fauna, are melting into gray tedium; our rich biosphere has devolved to a primordial soup. The calm summer breeze has given way to a harsher draft, providing a harbinger of the chill that awaits in the months ahead. The deluge has begun.

For many of us, Marcheshvan is the time of our personal deluge. The carefree summer months are unquestionably behind us. No longer are we individuals living out our personal dreams; as we reach midterms, we oft become lost in the shuffle; in class, we are indistinct, not clearly superior to those around us, and our minds become clouded. Despair envelops many as we convince ourselves of our own mediocrity; the concomitant insecurity emboldens some, but embitters most, and leads some to do their utmost to prove their self-worth, be it through artificial mechanisms of self-aggrandizement or disparagement of others. Afloat in a raging sea, we lack an ark, and grasp at driftwood which ultimately will not hold our weight.

The message of Parshat Noach is clear: there is hope. The waters will recede, and when they do, a better world will emerge. Rav Soloveitchik, zt"l, faulted Noach for his unwillingness to champion humanity before God due to his inability to perceive the keshet, the rainbow, the light that cannot be extinguished that is tucked away in even the murkiest souls; as such, God had to present it to him in a physical manifestation. The keshet inheres in our hearts, as well; we may not ever dismiss others, regardless of their demeanor or their activities, but most fundamentally, we must never dismiss ourselves. We, too, possess the keshet; we all have inherent worth, and we all contain the reserves, the potential to excel which simply needs to be tapped. Yes, as Noach, we are fundamentally alone in our personal quest, but we must not sell ourselves short; nor are we truly alone, for God, too, is a passenger on our teivah. Gam ki eilekh be-gei tzalmavet, lo iyra ra ki atah imadi.

Dear reader: you are special. You are unique, the apogee of creation; no one perceives the world in quite the same way that you do, and hence you are a microcosm - an olam malei. Whether you are a member of MYP, BMP, IBC, JSS or an alumnus, whether you spend your nights in the Beit Midrash or Rubin Lounge, our Torah speaks specifically to you; there is no one of superior or inferior importance to you. Your potential is unlimited, and you can easily actualize it; lo ba-shamayim hi. Don't flail; get on our boat and row. We're here for you.

Hakaras HaTov to all who have helped thus far - Aryeh, Adam and Avi, and Amichai Erdfarb (Seforim), Ben Skydell, Azik Schwechter (Cholent), David Regev (Hamin), Moshe Singer (Guides!), Danny Gilbert, Jonathan Strauss, Ephraim Shapiro (Enayim L'Torah), Jonathan Gross and Donny Rose (Bagels), Ben Breda (forthcoming SOY Chesed Club), Jeremy Frenkel (SOY-Yad Ozer Tzedakah Committee), Chaim Jaskoll and Rabbi Marc Spivak (CD-Rom Committee). Special thanks to Jason Leib, Uri Goldstein, Mordy Friedman and Dov Karoll, and to The Commentator, for assisting us in our noble mission. And our utmost thanks to Andrew Leibowitz, Jeff Socol, Rav Bronstein, Rav Ben-Haim, Rav Blau, Rav Charlop, Rav Hochberg, Rav Reichman and Rav Schachter, who have helped make our Cheshvan events heretofore most successful.