I grew up in a kibbutz where religion was prohibited. I remember, as a young boy, my father asking me if I wanted to attend synagogue in a nearby town five kilometers away. I did.
We biked to that shul early on Yom Kippur morning. We gingerly parked our bikes behind the synagogue and entered. Walking alongside my dad into that house of worship on the holiest day of the year is a memory that has stuck with me ever since and one I treasure every year when Yom Kippur falls upon us.
It’s a holy day, of course. But Yom Kippur presents to us a unique gift from God: The day allows us to reinvent ourselves, to contemplate where we’ve erred and how we can be better for the year ahead.
As a father, husband and rabbi, beginning a new chapter as I’m finally back in Israel, I see many ways to take advantage of this unique opportunity. This is also the first year that I’m back on Israeli soil since 2006 and being a better son, cousin and brother to my extended and immediate family is also at the forefront of my mind.
While the United States is a beautiful country and we packed up everything when we made the journey across the ocean, I had left my soul behind in Israel. It’s an honor to be back here and reclaim it.
I moved to the US for my wife – who is my first love. But my second love is my homeland and growing up in a kibbutz and working with the land itself only cemented my deep connection to this country.
OBSERVING YOM Kippur here has a special reverence since the entire country comes to a halt. No matter one’s level of observance, customs and background Yom Kippur is one of the few days where the cliché “we’re all in this together” is quite literal. With cars staying in their parking lots, stores shuttered, the TV stations off the air, we truly do feel like the Am Ahad (One People) we strive to be.
What’s better is that by committing this sacrifice, we gain something priceless in return: A chance to look inward and bask in being humble in the face of God.
To that end, Yom Kippur has an extended meaning here. For one day, we don’t feel like the humble nation that has beaten all odds, amassed towering achievements in the hi-tech world or, even, was the first to vaccinate its population at a rapid pace. It’s almost as if for one day we go back in time to a simpler era when the community is paramount and being one cohesive nation is the top priority.
Being able to pull off this 180°-turn is not easy for a population that’s always on the go, but I think it’s deeply critical as we start a new page in the Book of Life.
Our bellies are empty, yet our mind is full of regrets, hopes and aspirations. It’s a beautiful day when anything seems possible. It’s a day when we realize we may have missed the mark, but self-correction is always possible.
So, to those who plan to observe the day, I encourage you to find meaning in prayer. This is a chance to connect with God and yourself.
This day is holy not because God says it must be so, but because we make it so. We are the ones praying with kavanah (intention), we’re the ones asking to make tshuva (repentance) and we’re the ones hoping to start anew.
In a year rife with so much pain and heartache, this is not a day to be taken for granted. We all have much to gain by looking inward and trying to do better.
If each and every one of us would reflect on what we did wrong and do a heshbon hanefesh (soul search), we’ll all be better for it. That’s what I love about Judaism, it strives to make the world a better place. And that is a beautiful thing.
The writer made aliyah from Wellington, Florida, in June 2021.