Letting God in the Door – Yom Kippur 5780

What is the essence of today?

The answer emerges not from the beginning of the day but the end, during the closing service of Neilah.

We proclaim in dramatic fashion God’s sovereignty in the world. We proclaim the Shema one time, God’s Kingdom reigns forever 3 times and God is the True God seven times. As we reach the climactic ebbing moments of Yom Kippur, we declare a full and total commitment to God’s presence in our lives and in the world.

Too often, though, we put God in a box and pull him out when we need him but when he interrupts my conversation with a friend, we ignore him. Who are we fooling?

Most of us live in two worlds. On Yom Kippur we face reality. Most of us are imprisoned in habit and religious mediocrity. On Yom Kippur, we have a chance and a challenge to strive for and live a life of religious excellence. 

The most significant question of the day is whether when the day ends, will we will truly allow God to enter into every corner of hearts and every sphere of our lives?

Growing up in Atlanta, one of the songs I sang as a child was “Hashem is here, Hashem is there, Hahem is truly everywhere. Then I would point using my finger in different directions and sing – Up, Up. Down, Down, Right, Left and All Around, Here, There and Everywhere, That is Where He Can be Found.”

The song was catchy but until this year, I did not fully appreciate the depth and destiny inherent in the words. Three ideas awakened within me the beauty of the song. I learned about a knock, a mantra and a missing finger.

Let’s start with the knock and a revolutionary idea shared annually by Rabbi Yehuda Amital, of blessed memory, a Holocaust survivor and renowned Rosh Yeshiva of Har Eztion in Israel in the waning hours of Yom Kippur.

He wondered how Neilah, this final prayer truly fits in with the tenor of the day. From the beginning of Kol Nidrei and throughout the day, we describe God as all merciful and kind, slow to anger and patient.  He is here and waiting for us to turn to him. He is ready to grant us forgiveness if we are sincere. He is ready to give us a clean slate if we reach out to those we hurt and seek forgiveness.

Yet, as the day come to an end, God seems to transform from an ever loving God to one who is closing the gates of return. We are pressed for time. We sense if we do not get in the door now, we will miss an opportunity forever. If God was truly loving and kind, He should be keeping the gates open for us!  

The answer is profound and life changing.

Rav Amital explained that we should look at the day of Yom Kippur through the prism of Shir Hashirim. King Solomon’s romantic story about a young beautiful maiden and her lover serves as a metaphor for the relationship between God and the Jewish people.

She rises in the morning to greet her lover in the field. She waits and waits but he is delayed.  Despondent she decides to go home and goes to bed. He arrives moments later only to see her gone.

He arrives at her home and knocks on the door. The maiden already in bed responds “I am too tired to get up”. He knocks again, and she responds, “I am already in bed”. He knocks repeatedly until finally in not hearing any response; he leaves and goes off into the night.

She finally decides to get up, get dressed and open the door. She hurries to the door only to discover that it too late and her lover is gone.  She runs into the night in search of him but she cannot find him. She lets out a blood curdling cry for she realizes that she has missed the opportunity of a lifetime.

It is a haunting story of the tragedy of missed opportunities. When we hesitate, we may miss a moment forever.

But the Rabbis viewed the story as even more foundational to what it means to be a Jew.

On the morning of Yom Kippur we are like the maiden rising to greet our beloved, God. As the day progresses, we seek a rendezvous with God. We intensify our prayers and seek to open our hearts. We sincerely desire to connect with God.

As the day turns to eve, God knocks on the door, our hearts and tests the depth of our yearning. He wants to know whether today will be a one day romance or an enduring commitment. He is asking us in the most profound of ways, will we open up our hearts to fully let Him into our lives in a real way?

The question at the end of the day is what will be our response. Will we waver?

Finally, Neilah arrives. We seek not to open the gates of Heaven but the  gates of our hearts. God is knocking feverishly as the day comes to end. I want to be a part of your life every day!

Will you let me in?  

God is everywhere but he created us with the ability to block him and compartmentalize our lives. He says to each of us, will you finally open up the door and let me in?

It is no wonder that prior to Neilah we read the story of Jonah. God tasks him with going to the city of Ninveh to inspire them to repent. Yonah runs away. He is a prophet, he should know better than to run away from God. What is he thinking?

In truth, Yonah knows he cannot run away from God. He is not seeking to hide but rather to detach and disengage. Yonah is looking to blend in. Yonah is a man who is afraid to let God into his heart. He closes the gates on God. He is ready to stand with God in times of convenience but not in moments of conviction. He is looking for a laid-back getaway without the pressure of moral expectations which religion creates.

Yom Kippur challenges us to realize that being a Jew does not define only what we do but who we are.  Yom Kippur calls on us not think small. 

God is everywhere. Will we let Him in?

King David offers a mantra in Psalm 16 to guide us. I will place God before me always.  It is not simply enough to do our duties as Jews and seek a life of minimal obligation.

Being a Jew is a life of maximal aspiration.

This is the mantra: I will place God before me always.

When we let God into our hearts, we learn to forgive. We are slow to anger and are patient. We mine for the gold in people and do not dig for the dirt.

When we let God into our hearts, we know that God is in the room always. We act with courage to do what is right when no one is looking. We speak and respond thoughtfully. We seize moments to help a spouse, a friend or a stranger.

Judaism is not just checking boxes. Judaism is letting God into my heart and placing him before me always. 

Finally, I will reflect on the missing finger.

I was struck by the strength of spirit of Rabbi Yisrael Goldstein, of the Chabad of Poway.

He was preparing to give his sermon Shabbat morning, the last day of Passover this past April when he heard a loud bang in the lobby of his synagogue. He initially thought a thought a table had fallen down or maybe his dear friend Lori Gilbert Kaye had tripped and fallen. Only a few moments earlier he had greeted Lori there; she had come to services to say Yizkor, for her late mother.

As we all know, a terrorist entered the building. Rabbi Goldstein’s right index finger was blown off. Another bullet hit his left index finger, which started gushing blood. Lori was murdered. Almog Peretz, a veteran of the Israeli Defense Forces, ran to get the children to safety and took a bullet in the leg. His eight-year-old niece, Noya Dahan, took some shrapnel to hers. A miracle occurred: The terrorist’s gun jammed. Two other heroic congregants — an Army veteran named Oscar Stewart and an off-duty border patrol agent named Jonathan Morales — rushed toward him and he fled.

In the aftermath, Rabbi Goldstein wrote the following:

“I do not know God’s plan. All I can do is try to find meaning in what has happened. And to use this borrowed time to make my life matter more.

I used to sing a song to my children, a song that my father sang to me when I was a child. “Hashem is here,” I would sing, using a Hebrew name for God, pointing with my right index finger to the sky. “Hashem is there,” I would sing, pointing to my right and left. “Hashem is truly everywhere.” That finger I would use to point out God’s omnipresence was taken from me.

I pray that my missing finger serves as a constant reminder to me. A reminder that every single human being is created in the image of God; a reminder that I am part of a people that has survived the worst destruction and will always endure; a reminder that my ancestors gave their lives so that I can live in freedom in America; and a reminder, most of all, to never, ever, not ever be afraid to be Jewish.

From here on in I am going to be more brazen. I am going to be even more proud about walking down the street wearing my tzitzit and kippah, acknowledging God’s presence. And I’m going to use my voice until I am hoarse to urge my fellow Jews to do Jewish. To light candles before Shabbat. To put up mezuzas on their doorposts. To do acts of kindness. And to show up in synagogue — especially this coming Shabbat.”

I want to conclude with one final story about what it means to place God before you always. In reflecting with Sarah Hochman about her father, Dr. Bob Tatham, who passed away recently, she shared with me that he was a renowned geologist and the inventor of the first fracking machine.  He traveled worldwide. She has vivid memories that in preparation for his trips to Russia he would pack his bags with taleisim, siddurim, and other items for the Jewish refuseniks.  He was going on business and understood that if he was caught, he would be prevented from returning to the Soviet Union again. Nevertheless, he took the risk because he put God in front him Him always and it was the right thing to do. He opened up the door and let God into his heart.

Yom Kippur, God is knocking on our door. The question is whether we will finally let him in?

May we all possess the strength and courage this coming year to remember that is an honor to place God before us always and welcome Him into our lives each and every day.

P.S - Upon delivering this sermon on Yom Kippur, one of the people in the congregation, Alex Abramov, shared that as a Soviet Jew he was a recipient of the kindness of Dr. Tatham who brought him prayers books behind the Iron Curtain. Dr. Tatham let God in the door and his legacy lives on!