MY NEILAH REALISATION
Yom Kippur
Our third child was born on Erev Yom Kippur. On Yom Kippur my wife was in the hospital with the new born and I was looking after our two young daughters.
Yom Kippur went smoothly. The girls were happy. With the help of a babysitter, I was able to daven in Shule like any other Yom Kippur. After the break, I brought them with me when I returned for Mincha.
They were very happy. They had a stash of snacks and were enjoying playing with the other children at Shule. Everything seemed under control… until Neilah.
I had just finished reciting the silent Amidah of Neilah. The Shule was silent as the Aron Kodesh was being opened for the Chazzan’s repetition.
This was it; the holiest time of Yom Kippur. The pinnacle of the day; when the essence of the soul is exposed and joins in absolute oneness with Hashem. The gates are closing and we have a final opportunity to ask Hashem for all of our wishes for ourselves and our families.
I heard a cry. I knew that it was my eldest daughter (yes even fathers recognize the cry of their child). I looked up and saw her. She ran into the Shule, shrieking hysterically, her face covered with blood.
She had been playing in the foyer, jumping on the stairs and had fallen. Blood poured from her chin and tears streamed from her eyes.
Without a thought, I ran to her and swooped her into my arms. And I sat through Neilah, first outside and once she had stopped crying, at the back of the Shule, holding tissues to her bleeding chin. As the mispallelim stood deep in prayer, I sat down cradling and rocking her, soothing and calming my child. My Tallis and beautiful white Kittel streaked in blood.
The minyan moved on. Psach lanu Shaar, Kedusha, the final Avinu Malkeinu. And then the crescendo; Shema Yisroel, Baruch Shem and Hashem Hu Haelokim as the Shule erupted into the joyous Napoleon’s March.
This was Neilah? Why did this have to happen? What about my davening?
But then I started to think; to think about her, to think about us, to think about Hashem. This was Neilah! This was what Yom Kippur was all about.
We are Hashem’s children and we don’t always make the most mature decisions. We have fallen down and are spiritually bloodied. True it may be our fault, we should have been more careful with our behavior, we deserve it.
But when our Father sees His child hurting, these considerations fall by the wayside. He puts Himself aside and embraces us with love and soothes our pain.
This Divine embrace, where a Father is a father and a child is His child, is Yom Kippur.
Yom Kippur went smoothly. The girls were happy. With the help of a babysitter, I was able to daven in Shule like any other Yom Kippur. After the break, I brought them with me when I returned for Mincha.
They were very happy. They had a stash of snacks and were enjoying playing with the other children at Shule. Everything seemed under control… until Neilah.
I had just finished reciting the silent Amidah of Neilah. The Shule was silent as the Aron Kodesh was being opened for the Chazzan’s repetition.
This was it; the holiest time of Yom Kippur. The pinnacle of the day; when the essence of the soul is exposed and joins in absolute oneness with Hashem. The gates are closing and we have a final opportunity to ask Hashem for all of our wishes for ourselves and our families.
I heard a cry. I knew that it was my eldest daughter (yes even fathers recognize the cry of their child). I looked up and saw her. She ran into the Shule, shrieking hysterically, her face covered with blood.
She had been playing in the foyer, jumping on the stairs and had fallen. Blood poured from her chin and tears streamed from her eyes.
Without a thought, I ran to her and swooped her into my arms. And I sat through Neilah, first outside and once she had stopped crying, at the back of the Shule, holding tissues to her bleeding chin. As the mispallelim stood deep in prayer, I sat down cradling and rocking her, soothing and calming my child. My Tallis and beautiful white Kittel streaked in blood.
The minyan moved on. Psach lanu Shaar, Kedusha, the final Avinu Malkeinu. And then the crescendo; Shema Yisroel, Baruch Shem and Hashem Hu Haelokim as the Shule erupted into the joyous Napoleon’s March.
This was Neilah? Why did this have to happen? What about my davening?
But then I started to think; to think about her, to think about us, to think about Hashem. This was Neilah! This was what Yom Kippur was all about.
We are Hashem’s children and we don’t always make the most mature decisions. We have fallen down and are spiritually bloodied. True it may be our fault, we should have been more careful with our behavior, we deserve it.
But when our Father sees His child hurting, these considerations fall by the wayside. He puts Himself aside and embraces us with love and soothes our pain.
This Divine embrace, where a Father is a father and a child is His child, is Yom Kippur.