Erev Yom Kippur and The Concealed Things We Carry

I went to the dentist for a cleaning the other day. As the dentist came in they asked, “anything bothering you today?” I said “no.” But then I thought about it for a moment and said, “you were asking about my teeth, right?” I always enjoy adding a little humor to someone’s day. The dentist laughed and said “if you want to talk about what else is bothering you we can do that too.” To which I replied, “that may be challenging with your tools inside my mouth. Maybe instead, you should share your challenges with me since there’s not much else for me to do anyway other than listen. In fact, maybe I should charge you for this visit.” A few minutes later the dentist asked me about my flossing habits, and I said “wow, this really is like therapy. You’re asking me to reveal things to you that I wouldn’t to anyone else. And I have no reason but to be completely honest with you.” We had a good laugh and moved on. But it got me thinking about the things we hold inside and don’t share with others.

Then on Shabbat morning, I got into a conversation with someone about whether synagogues have Concealed Carrying policies governing whether attendees may carry guns to shul. Without getting into the politics of that discussion, it occurred to me that once again I was thinking about the things that we carry and don’t want others to see.

On Shabbat afternoon, I went to Mincha and the Shabbat Shuva Drasha. But just as Mincha was about to begin, I suddenly felt really unwell. My pulse was racing, my breath was short, and I was sweating a lot. Even after a few minutes, it wasn’t calming down. I asked a Dr. in shul if I should be concerned. He checked my pulse, which seemed fine, and then found another Dr. in shul who is a Cardiologist. We went to the shul office to check my blood pressure. Everything was fine, and after a few minutes I started to feel more like myself. I was able to return to shul and enjoy the Drasha. When I got home after Shabbat I told my wife what happened, and she asked me whether I thought maybe it was a panic attack. That hadn’t occurred to me, as I wasn’t feeling particularly stressed about anything. This episode seemingly came out of nowhere. But the truth is, maybe that’s exactly what it was. Maybe I was carrying some things that I didn’t even realize myself.

So, my hope and bracha for us all this Yom Kippur is that we give ourselves permission to reveal the things we are carrying. Don’t hold it in. Breath it out. Talk it out. Pray it out. And at the end of Yom Kippur, at Neila, make sure nothing gets locked in. Because when we conceal what we carry, we may feel safer, but we also may not realize the stress it causes us to conceal.

Rosh Hashanah: The Teshuva of Truly Seeing Ourselves

Rosh Hashanah: The Teshuva of Truly Seeing Ourselves

Rabbi Aaron Levitt - Kemp Mill Synagogue - 9/12/26

 

I. 4000 Weeks

How many weeks do you think the average human being lives in a lifetime?

Our lives are much shorter than we realize. In his brilliant book, Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals, Oliver Burkeman calculates that “the average human lifespan is absurdly, terrifyingly, insultingly short. Assuming you live to be eighty, you’ll have had about four thousand weeks.”

Of course, some live longer and some shorter. But on average we get 4000 weeks.

When you think of a lifetime it sounds like a long time. But when you think of 4000 weeks it sounds more finite. What we call a lifetime actually goes by very quickly, especially in the eyes of God, as it says in Tehillim 90:4:

“כִּי אֶלֶף שָׁנִים בְּעֵינֶיךָ כְּיוֹם אֶתְמוֹל כִּי יַעֲבֹר וְאַשְׁמוּרָה בַלָּיְלָה” 

For in Your sight a thousand years are like yesterday

that has passed like a watch of the night

Just think of the 25th anniversary of 9/11, which we just observed. On the one hand, when I think about it, it feels like just yesterday. I can remember everything about that day as if it just happened. On the other hand, a whole generation has passed since then. It’s been 1300 weeks since 9/11.

4000 weeks may sound like a lot, but it goes fast.

And we all want to live “A Life Well-Lived.” We want to experience the beauty and joy of this incredible world that God has given us. We want to learn, to explore, to discover, and to create. We want to contribute, and give, and leave the world better than we found it.

But it’s easier said than done. On a day-to-day basis, we are inundated with responsibilities and obligations, emails and texts, aches and pains. I don’t know about you, but when Shabbat arrives each week I am so thankful for an island in time to just breathe and think, and read, and sing, and enjoy quiet moments with the people I love. 

And as these weeks carry on, they start to add up. Without noticing, we get older and suddenly we look up and notice that we’ve been alive for 1000 weeks, or 2000, or 3000. We start to do the math and realize that life is not as long as we thought.

So here we are. Today, on Rosh Hashanah, we are being judged for how well we are living this precious life that God has granted us. It’s an opportunity to look in the mirror, reflect, and if necessary, recalibrate. And the question I find myself thinking about is, how well do I really know myself?

 

II. The Stories We Tell Ourselves

If we engage in Cheshbon HaNefesh, honest soul searching, we know that at our core we are good people. Or at least that we want to be good. We are human and make mistakes. But we’re trying.

And that’s true. But because we are human, we have blind spots. It can be hard sometimes to see ourselves fully. These blind spots may be defense mechanisms to protect our self-esteem. Or they may be the stories and narratives we tell ourselves to make sense of our experiences.

For example, if we are asked to share our core values and the things that matter the most to us, I’m sure we could each come up with our list. But if we then compared that list to the way we spend our time or our money, would it match up?

I was in a workshop a few months ago by a Harvard University professor, and she asked us, “what would a future anthropologist, 100 years from now, say about you if all they saw was your calendar, your social media, and your online activity? How would they describe you?”

We may tell ourselves that this would only give the researcher a partial glimpse into who we really are. That they wouldn’t truly be able to “see us” with that information alone. But the truth is, it might reveal some things that we wouldn’t realize on our own.

Sometimes asking others how they see us can broaden our perspective and help us see ourselves more fully. A coach may conduct a 360° review to get feedback from co-workers. Or a good friend might lovingly share some feedback they think we need to hear.

I even tried this with AI. Someone on social media shared that they had prompted ChatGPT with the following question: “What do you know about me that I might not know about myself?” At first, I thought that was kind of creepy. But for fun I decided to try it. And this was the answer I received:

“That’s a powerful (and slightly unsettling) question—and I’ll answer it honestly, within the limits of what I actually know. I don’t have access to hidden data about you, your past, or anything outside of what you’ve shared in this and prior conversations. But patterns do emerge from how you think, what you ask, and what you build. And sometimes those patterns point to things people don’t fully name about themselves. Here are a few observations you might not have articulated explicitly….”

It went on to share some pretty insightful observations based on prompts and projects I had given it in the past. I’m sure if I asked it to search for more information about me online it would get an even clearer picture of me. And the thing is, these insights were things I didn’t even realize about myself! Because what AI can do really well is look for patterns.

I’m not suggesting that ChatGPT serve as my therapist or Rabbi. But it highlights the concept that we can learn more about ourselves by asking others how they see us.

Lori Gottlieb, therapist and author of Maybe You Should Talk To Someone, describes this well:

“When people come to therapy, I’m listening not just to the story they’re telling, but also their flexibility with their story. Who are the heroes and who are the villains? Is the protagonist moving forward or going in circles? What would the other “characters” in the story say if they could tell their version of this story? We all have a tendency to tell a story in a particular way, which is the way we see it—but we all have blind spots. So my job as a therapist is to hold up a mirror to people so that they can see themselves more clearly, and in ways that others might see them… I’m listening for the music under the lyrics. Meaning, I’m listening for the struggle or pattern underneath the content of the story.” 

Therapists hold up a mirror to help us see the patterns in our lives and the choices we tend to make. Where do we repeatedly get stuck? Why do we keep ending up in the same situations? What stories do we tell about ourselves? What do other people experience when they are around us? By “listening for the music under the lyrics,” they help us be more self-aware.

 

III. Hashem Sees Us Better Than We See Ourselves

You know who truly sees us fully for who we are? Who has no blind spots? Who sees us better than we even see ourselves? Hashem.

The verse in Devarim (29:28) tells us that even when things are hidden from us, they are always revealed to Hashem:

“הַנִּסְתָּרֹת לַה’ אֱלֹקִינוּ וְהַנִּגְלֹת לָנוּ וּלְבָנֵינוּ” 

Concealed acts are for Hashem our God

but overt acts are for us and our children.

When it comes to Rosh Hashanah, our Sages teach that Hashem examines and scans us each individually. The Mishnah (Rosh Hashanah 1:2) teaches that:

בְּרֹאשׁ הַשָּׁנָה כָּל בָּאֵי הָעוֹלָם עוֹבְרִין לְפָנָיו כִּבְנֵי מָרוֹן

On Rosh HaShanah all creatures pass before Him “Kivnei Maron.”

The Gemara (Rosh Hashanah 18a) offers three interpretations of the phrase “Kivnei Maron”:

מַאי ״כִּבְנֵי מָרוֹן״?

What is the meaning of the phrase “Kivnei Maron?”

הָכָא תַּרְגִּימוּ: כִּבְנֵי אִמְּרָנָא.

Here (in Babylonia) they interpreted it to mean: Like a flock of sheep.

רֵישׁ לָקִישׁ אָמַר: כְּמַעֲלוֹת בֵּית מָרוֹן.

Reish Lakish said: Like the ascent of Beit Maron.

אָמַר רַב יְהוּדָה אָמַר שְׁמוּאֵל: כַּחֲיָילוֹת שֶׁל בֵּית דָּוִד.

Rav Yehuda said in the name of Shmuel: Like the soldiers of the house of King David.

What do each of these three interpretations of Kivnei Maron symbolize? Rashi explains as follows:

1) כִּבְנֵי אִמְּרָנָא - Like A Flock of Sheep

ככבשים שמונין אותן לעשרן ויוצאין זה אחר זה בפתח קטן שאין יכולין לצאת כאחד

Sheep are counted for Maaser Beheima (the animal tithe) by letting them out of the pen one at a time through a narrow opening where only one can pass through.

2) כְּמַעֲלוֹת בֵּית מָרוֹן - Like The Steep Ascent of Beit Maron

הדרך קצר ואין שנים יכולין לילך זה בצד זה שהעמק עמוק משני צידי הדרך

This is a narrow pass where people have to walk single file so as not to fall off the cliff.

3) כַּחֲיָילוֹת שֶׁל בֵּית דָּוִד - Like Soldiers of the House of David

כך היו מונין אותם יוצאים זה אחר זה בצאתם למלחמה

The soldiers would be counted one at a time as they went out to battle.

All three images are of individuals passing by one at a time. Because on Rosh Hashanah we are each fully seen for who we are as individuals.

But the truth is, there is a slight difference in each of these symbols.

• In the 1st image (the sheep) each individual goes forward alone, while everyone else stays still. 
• In the 2nd image (the cliff) everyone moves forward at the same time, but single file. 
• In the 3rd image (the soldiers) individuals are also lined up, but this time they are standing next to each other, shoulder to shoulder. 

That’s something that I’ll leave you to think about, what each symbol teaches us.

But the Gemara doesn’t stop there. It makes one more crucial point. Not only does Hashem examine us individually, but He inspects us all in a single scan:

אָמַר רַבָּה בַּר בַּר חָנָה אָמַר רַבִּי יוֹחָנָן: וְכוּלָּן נִסְקָרִין בִּסְקִירָה אַחַת. 

Rabba bar bar Ḥana said in the name of Rabbi Yoḥanan:

And they are all scanned in a single scan.

And the Gemara bases this on a verse in Tehillim (33:15):

“הַיּוֹצֵר יַחַד לִבָּם הַמֵּבִין אֶל כָּל מַעֲשֵׂיהֶם”

He Who fashions their hearts alike, Who understands all their deeds

What does it mean that Hashem scans us all in a single scan, בִּסְקִירָה אַחַת?

On one level it means that He can examine each of us at the same time. Because He is All-Knowing. But maybe it also means that He can look at each of us individually and see everything. He knows our genetic makeup, our lineage, and our history. He knows our strengths and weaknesses. He knows our triumphs and failures. He knows the way we think, and He knows our emotional makeup as well. He is the ultimate “See-er.” We may have blind spots. But Hashem sees all.

 

IV. Being Seen Can Feel Scary

This can feel scary. And in fact, in the Tefilla of U’Netane Tokef, one of the central prayers of Yamim Noraim (the High Holidays), we say explicitly:

כָל בָּאֵי עוֹלָם יַעַבְרוּן לְפָנֶיךָ כִּבְנֵי מָרוֹן כְּבַקָּרַת רוֹעֶה עֶדְרוֹ מַעֲבִיר צֹאנוֹ תַּחַת שִׁבְטוֹ

כֵּן תַּעֲבִיר וְתִסְפֹּר וְתִמְנֶה וְתִפְקֹד נֶפֶשׁ כָּל חָי וְתַחְתֹּךְ קִצְבָה לְכָל בְּרִיָּה וְתִכְתֹּב אֶת גְּזַר דִּינָם 

All creatures parade before you as a herd of sheep. As a shepherd herds his flock, directing his sheep to pass under his staff, so you shall pass, count, and record the souls of all living, and decree a limit to each person, and inscribe their final judgment.

The Gemara (Rosh Hashanah 32b) says that on Rosh Hashanah: 

מלך יושב על כסא דין וספרי חיים וספרי מתים פתוחין לפניו

The King sits upon the throne of judgment

with the books of the living and the books of the dead open before Him.

The Gemara (Rosh Hashanah 16b) also says that on Rosh Hashanah:

שְׁלֹשָׁה סְפָרִים נִפְתָּחִין בְּרֹאשׁ הַשָּׁנָה:

אֶחָד שֶׁל רְשָׁעִים גְּמוּרִין, וְאֶחָד שֶׁל צַדִּיקִים גְּמוּרִין, וְאֶחָד שֶׁל בֵּינוֹנִיִּים.

צַדִּיקִים גְּמוּרִין נִכְתָּבִין וְנֶחְתָּמִין לְאַלְתַּר לְחַיִּים.

רְשָׁעִים גְּמוּרִין נִכְתָּבִין וְנֶחְתָּמִין לְאַלְתַּר לְמִיתָה.

בֵּינוֹנִיִּים תְּלוּיִין וְעוֹמְדִין מֵרֹאשׁ הַשָּׁנָה וְעַד יוֹם הַכִּפּוּרִים.

זָכוּ, נִכְתָּבִין לְחַיִּים. לֹא זָכוּ, נִכְתָּבִין לְמִיתָה.

Three books are opened on Rosh Hashanah: One of wholly wicked people, and one of wholly righteous people, and one of middling people. Wholly righteous people are immediately written and sealed for life; wholly wicked people are immediately written and sealed for death; and middling people are left with their judgment suspended from Rosh HaShanah until Yom Kippur. If they merit, they are written for life; if they do not merit, they are written for death.

Rosh Hashanah is a day of judgment. And that is a heavy word. Will we be written in the Book of Life or the Book of Death?

But here’s the secret. Rosh Hashanah is not a judgment about the past. It’s a judgement about the future.

 

V. The Mirror and the Crystal Ball

Let me share with you a story:

In a quiet room atop a hill sat two remarkable objects: a Mirror framed in silver and a Crystal Ball resting on a velvet cushion. Every day, visitors came seeking wisdom.

The Mirror would greet them first. "Look into me," it would say.

People gazed into its polished surface and saw themselves exactly as they were. Some noticed joy in their eyes. Others saw worry, fatigue, or hope. The Mirror helped them understand their past choices and their present reality.

"I show what is," said the Mirror. "When you understand where you are, you can learn."

The Crystal Ball listened patiently. Then it spoke. "Now look into me."

The visitors peered into its shimmering depths. They did not see the future itself, for no one can know that with certainty. Instead, they saw possibilities: a difficult conversation gone well, a dream pursued courageously, a challenge met with resilience, a community strengthened through kindness.

"I do not show what will be," said the Crystal Ball. "I help you imagine what could be. When you picture the future, you can prepare for it."

One afternoon, the Mirror boasted, "I am more important. Without me, people cannot understand themselves." The Crystal Ball smiled. "Perhaps. But without me, they may never become more than what they already are."

A wise traveler overheard their debate and laughed gently. "You are both necessary," she said. "The Mirror gives Reflection: the wisdom of looking back and understanding. The Crystal Ball gives Preflection: the wisdom of looking ahead and imagining. One teaches us from experience. The other prepares us for possibility."

From that day on, the Mirror and the Crystal Ball stopped competing. Together, they helped people answer life's most important question: Not only 'What have I learned?' but also 'What am I becoming?'

 

VI. Ktiva V’Chatima Tova

What if instead of seeing today as a scary day of judgement, we see it as a day to look in the mirror to reflect on our patterns and blind spots, and to look in the crystal ball to preflect on the opportunities and choices before us?

In U’Netaneh Tokef we say these words:

ותפתח את ספר הזכרונות ומאליו יקרא וחותם יד כל אדם בו 

The Book of Remembrance will be opened.

It will read itself, with the signature of every person in it.

What does that mean that the Sefer HaZichronot, the Book of Remembrance, has everyone’s signature on it?

It means that we get to author our own story. When we wish each other “Ktiva V'Chatima Tova” on Rosh Hashanah, it doesn’t just mean “may you be written and sealed for the good.” Chatima can mean sealed. But it can also mean signed.

The past is written. But the next page is still blank. We get to choose what will be written. 

Perhaps Bahya ibn Pakuda, in his Chovot HaLevavot (8:3:90) (Duties Of The Heart), said it best:

הַיָּמִים מְגִלּוֹת. כִּתְבוּ בָּהֶם מַה שֶׁתִּרְצוּ שֶׁיִּזָּכֵר לָכֶם

Days are scrolls. Write on them what you want to be remembered.

The question of Rosh Hashanah is not "will I be written in the Book of Life?" but "what kind of life will I write?" The Book of Life is not merely a record of whether I will live. It is an invitation to decide how I will live.

Who knows how many of our 4000 weeks we have left? How do we want to live them? Hashem sees us for who we really are and what we are truly capable of. Are we willing to be brave enough, to look deeply enough, to ask others for help in seeing our true reflections?

This Rosh Hashanah I want to bless us all that we should have a true Ktiva V’Chatima Tova. That we should take the pen in our hands and decide what kind of story we want to write. That we should sign that book with pride, knowing that it was never about being perfect. It was always about being real. Hashem truly “sees us.” Are we willing to truly see ourselves?

Shana Tova

Turning 50: Aging or Saging?

When I was a kid, my mother would ask me each year on my birthday, “do you feel a year older today?” Well, today is my 50th birthday. And not only do I feel a year older; I feel a decade older. Though it’s just a number, 50 sounds so much older to me than 49. I’m no longer in my 40’s. B’ezrat Hashem, I will have many more happy and healthy years to look forward to. But with life expectancy for the average male in the United States 76.5, I find myself reflecting on my life journey: the things I have experienced and accomplished so far and all the things I still have planned.

In the Torah, time is measured in 50 year increments. After 7 Shmitah cycles (7x7 totaling 49 years), year 50 is Yovel, a Jubilee. In Eretz Yisrael this means that all land returns to its ancestral owners and all slaves go free (VaYikra 25:10, from which the verse on the Liberty Bell is taken). So in a sense, turning 50 is a chance to reset and start again. The verse also tells us “וְקִדַּשְׁתֶּם אֵת שְׁנַת הַחֲמִשִּׁים,” we are to sanctity our 50th year.

On the one hand, in the Torah 50 is the age when Leviyim like me retire (BaMidbar 4:47). Rashi (BaMidbar 4:2) explains that at 50 you start to lose your strength. Retirement at 50 does sound tempting. But it also kind of feels like it’s saying you’re washed up. 

On the other hand, the Midrash does say that retiring at 50 was only from physical labor, but once they entered the Land of Israel, Leviyim could continue singing in the Mishkan as long as their voice was strong. And our Sages (Pirkei Avot 5:21) see age 50 as a time when a person can use their voice to have an even more meaningful kind of impact. Describing the stages of life, Yehuda Ben Teimah says “בֶּן חֲמִשִּׁים לָעֵצָה - At 50 you are able to give counsel.” So 50 may be a time to RETIRE from physical labor, but it also is a time to ASPIRE to sharing what I’ve learned through Mentorship and Advice.

What is the source for this idea that 50 is the stage of life that is most suited to giving advice? When the Torah tells Leviyim that they retire at 50 (BaMidbar 8:25) it also says “וְשֵׁרֵת אֶת אֶחָיו - he will serve his brethren.” The Bartenura commentary on this Mishna explains this to mean “שֶׁיִּתֵּן לָהֶם עֵצָה - that he will give them advice.” Rashi explains that this is due to the lessons learned from 50 years of life experience. Meiri adds that it is not only life experience, but also the intelligence gained over the years. Abarbanel adds a 3rd benefit of age: Yishuv HaDaat (Peace of Mind).

I guess this means that even while I still have many goals of my own, this milestone signifies the beginning of a shift where my work is to help those younger than me on their journeys, just as my mentors have helped me.

A chassidic tale adds color to this mission:

“It was told on Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Barditchav that on his fiftieth birthday, his chasidim made a kidush for him for his reaching the age of counsel (50). The Rabbi told them: it is indeed written that "at fifty years of age for counsel". However, am I really wiser than you today? Am I wiser than I was a year ago?! Nevertheless, it was not for nothing that the Tanna wrote: "at fifty years of age for counsel". What does this mean? I will give you a parable to what is this comparable: to a man who lost his way in the forest. Slowly, slowly the day turns towards nightfall and he is still without advice (how to find his way out). He walks here and there confused as to where to go. Suddenly he sees from faraway a man walking towards him. As the man approaches, it is revealed that the man is of gruff appearance. His beard is grown, his hair is long and wild, his clothing is crumpled. It is recognizable by his appearance that he has been in the forest for a long time. The first man is happy to see the gruff stranger and runs toward him: "it is a miracle that I found you before nightfall. Perhaps you can show me how to get out of here?" The veteran wanderer answers him sadly: if I knew how to get out of here, I would not stay a minute longer. It has already been several long months that I am seeking the answer of how to get out of here. However, in one thing I can help you. From my experience, I can tell you where it is dangerous to enter, which path goes nowhere. Come, give me your hand and from now on we will go together. Rabbi Yitzchak of Barditchav ends off: to advise you what is good I do not know. But in this I can advise you: I can tell you what is not good to do. I recognize the paths which do not lead to a good end. This is the meaning of "at 50 years of age for counsel" - what the intellect fails to do, at least time succeeds in doing.”

I may not have all the answers, as I’m still trying to figure out this life myself, but I’ve learned enough to be a useful walking partner to help others avoid some of the pitfalls and mistakes I’ve made along the way.

As a kid I used to count down the days until my birthday. But now I find myself more interested in counting up. Like the Sefirat HaOmer period in which we now find ourselves counting 49 days from Pesach to Shavuot, culminating in Matan Torah on Day 50, I see my life as building year after year, as I work towards my life’s work. When I was younger I cared about achievement and accomplishment, wanting to be seen a certain way by others. Now, as David Brooks describes in The Road to Character, I find myself more interested in what my eulogy will one day say than in what my resume says.

I still have many goals. It’s fun to look back, but I have much to look forward to as well. Responding to a visitor that expressed worry about getting older, the Lubavitcher Rebbe said:

“‘How is it possible that at the age of eighty, Moses began to lead such a complex people like the Jews?’ wondered the Rebbe. He continued to explain: ‘Because Moses never looked back at what he had already done. Instead, he looked ahead—at what else needed to be done. ‘Anyone who looks at what needs to be done is young! Whoever looks back at what he did prior will always be old,’ concluded the Rebbe, and he again wished me ‘blessing and success.’”

It’s true that “רַבּוֹת מַחֲשָׁבוֹת בְּלֶב אִישׁ וַעֲצַת ה’ הִיא תָקוּם - many designs are in a person’s heart but it is GOD’s plan that is accomplished” (Mishlei 19:21). All I can do is try my best to make each day count, to appreciate the blessing of each day and year that Hashem gives me, and to invite others to walk with me along the way.

Shir HaShirim: The Knock At The Door

 Shir HaShirim - The Knock At The Door

Rabbi Aaron Levitt

I. What Am I, A Prophet?

I saw a cartoon the other day by my favorite Israeli cartoonist, Guy Morad. It shows a bunch of people sitting in a bomb shelter, one of whom is Eliyahu HaNavi. One guy asks Eliyahu, “Ma Yihiye Eliyahu - What’s gonna be?” And Eliyahu turns to him and says, “Ani Nireh Lecha Navi - Do I look to you like a prophet?”

It’s a good example of how Israelis use humor to manage stress. And it gives us a window into the feeling many Israelis have these days. When will this all be over? Can someone please just give us a timeline?

Someone in Israel shared a post on social media that said, “the siren is not the hard part. When the siren goes off, you move. You grab the kids, you count heads, you get to the safe room, you wait. There's a protocol. Your body knows what to do. Ten seconds, ninety seconds, all clear. Done. The hard part is the silence between sirens.” And it goes on to describe how difficult it is to go through daily life when the next moment a siren could send you running for shelter.

I imagine that our ancestors, huddled inside, their doors smeared with the blood of the Korban Pesach, while they could hear the screams of their neighbors during Makat Bechorot, must also have felt terrified, exhausted, and insecure.

But maybe that’s what Pesach is really all about. Not only remembering that God saved us in the past, but reminding each other that He will always watch out for our Nation.

II. Opening The Door For Eliyahu

As a kid, one of my favorite parts of the Seder was opening the door for Eliyahu HaNavi. I don’t know why, exactly. It’s not like there was ever anyone there when we opened the door. And though it was fun to do something unusual like opening the door late at night, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t reciting Shfoch Chamatcha (“Pour out your wrath upon the Nations”) that did it for me either.

I think it must have just been this idea that Eliyahu HaNavi, ancient and invisible, was visiting our Seder. I do remember checking his cup the next morning to see if he had drunk any of the wine. I could never tell if he had :-)

Why do we open the door for Eliyahu?

The Rama (Orach Chaim 480:1) writes that we open the door “כדי לזכור שהוא ליל שמורים” to remember that it is Leil Shimurim (Shemot 12:42), the night that Hashem watches over us and protects us. And therefore, explains the Mishna Berura, “אין מתייראין משום דבר” - we are fearless. On Seder night we open the door knowing that God is watching over us.

That explains why we open the door. But why specifically for Eliyahu?

Because Eliyahu is the one who heralds redemption. The Rama continues:

ובזכות אמונה זו יבא משיח וישפוך חמתו על העכו"ם

Expressing our faith in Hashem’s protection is a catalyst for Mashiach’s arrival.

Similarly, the Mishna Berura explains the custom of having a 5th cup on the table, a Kos Shel Eliyahu, as an expression of our faith that just as God redeemed us in the past, so too will He do so again in the future:

ונוהגין באלו מדינות למזוג כוס אחד יותר מהמסובין וקורין אותו כוס של אליהו הנביא (לרמז שאנו מאמינים שכשם שגאלנו הש"י ממצרים הוא יגאלנו עוד וישלח לנו את אליהו לבשרנו)

I think that’s a beautiful idea. But the more I think about it the more I suspect that there might be an even deeper symbolism of opening the door, one that references a scene we read about this morning in Shir HaShirim.

III. Missed Opportunities

Megillat Shir HaShirim is an allegory depicting the love between Hashem and Am Yisrael - “אֲנִי לְדוֹדִי וְדוֹדִי לִי - I am my beloved and my beloved is mine (Shir HaShirim 6:3).” 

But there is a heartbreaking scene in which Shlomo HaMelech describes the woman woken from her sleep when she hears a knock on the door (Shir HaShirim 5:2):

אֲנִי יְשֵׁנָה וְלִבִּי עֵר 

קוֹל  דּוֹדִי דוֹפֵק פִּתְחִי לִי אֲחֹתִי

I was asleep but my heart was awake.

The voice of my beloved is knocking! Open for me, my darling.

And yet, despite wanting so badly to be with her beloved, the woman makes excuses why she should not rise up and open the door (Shir HaShirim 5:3):

פָּשַׁטְתִּי אֶת כֻּתׇּנְתִּי אֵיכָכָה אֶלְבָּשֶׁנָּה 

רָחַצְתִּי אֶת רַגְלַי אֵיכָכָה אֲטַנְּפֵם

I had taken off my robe. Was I to put it on again? 

I bathed my feet. Was I to soil them again?

She hesitates for just that split second, and then realizes her mistake. In the very next pasuk she runs to the door to open it for him, but he is gone (Shir HaShirim 5:4-6):

דּוֹדִי שָׁלַח יָדוֹ מִן הַחֹר וּמֵעַי הָמוּ עָלָיו: 

My beloved took his hand off the latch and my heart was stirred for him.

קַמְתִּי אֲנִי לִפְתֹּחַ לְדוֹדִי וְיָדַי נָטְפוּ מוֹר וְאֶצְבְּעֹתַי מוֹר עֹבֵר עַל כַּפּוֹת הַמַּנְעוּל׃ 

I rose to let in my beloved. My hands dripped myrrh.

My fingers flowing myrrh upon the handles of the bolt

פָּתַחְתִּי אֲנִי לְדוֹדִי וְדוֹדִי חָמַק עָבָר

I opened the door for my beloved but my beloved had turned and gone.

נַפְשִׁי יָצְאָה בְדַבְּרוֹ

I was faint because of what he said.

בִּקַּשְׁתִּיהוּ וְלֹא מְצָאתִיהוּ קְרָאתִיו וְלֹא עָנָנִי׃

I sought, but found him not. I called, but he did not answer.

We’ve all had moments in our lives when we hesitated, missed an opportunity, and later came to regret it. Maybe we let the call go to voicemail. Or maybe we didn’t step up right away when an opportunity presented itself. Maybe we were lazy. Maybe we were comfortable. Maybe we were scared. 

Daniel Pink, in his book The Power of Regret, notes that later in life it’s the things that we didn’t do that we tend to regret; not the things we did.

IV. The Shoah

On Yom Haatzmaut 1956, Rav Yosef Dov Soloveichik (the Rav) gave a famous address, which eventually was published as a book under the name, taken from these very pesukim in Shir HaShirim, Kol Dodi Dofek.

The Rav expounds upon this theme of missed opportunities, pointing to examples from Tanach such as Shaul, who 1st made excuses before taking responsibility, unlike David HaMelech who immediately responded “Chatati L’Hashem - I have sinned against God.”

And then the Rav addresses the tragedy of the Shoah, the Holocaust, in which six million Jews were murdered. Listen to his haunting words:

“Let us be honest. During the terrible Holocaust, ‎when ‎European Jewry was systematically destroyed in gas chambers and crematoria, the ‎American ‎Jewish community did not rise to the occasion, and did not acquit itself as a community ‎with the ‎collective consciousness of shared fate, shared suffering and shared action with which it ‎should ‎have been expected to act. We did not properly sense the suffering of the nation, and we ‎did precious little to save our unfortunate brethren. It is hard to know what we could ‎have ‎accomplished had we been more active. I personally think we could have saved many. No ‎doubt, ‎however, if we had properly felt the pain of our brothers; had we raised our voices and ‎shaken ‎worlds, that Roosevelt issue a sharp warning of protest accompanied by action, we would ‎have ‎been able to significantly slow the process of mass destruction. We witnessed the most ‎horrible ‎tragedy in our history, and we were silent. I shall not now dwell on the particulars. It is an extremely painful chapter. We all sinned by our silence in the face of the murder of millions.”

During the Shoah, says the Rav, American Jewry was too passive and didn’t do enough to save lives. Medinat Yisrael, in his view, was the response of a People decimated in the Holocaust, to take back control of their destiny. The only question was whether this time we would answer the knock at the door. The Rav writes:

“Eight years ago, in the midst of a night of the terrors of Majdanek, Treblinka, and Buchenwald; in ‎a ‎night of gas chambers and crematoria; in a night of total divine self concealment; in a night ruled ‎by ‎the devil of doubt and destruction who sought to sweep the Lover from her own tent into ‎the ‎Catholic Church; in a night of continuous searching for the Beloved - on that very night ‎the ‎Beloved appeared. The Almighty, who was hiding in His splendid sanctum, suddenly appeared ‎and ‎began to beckon at the tent of the Lover, who tossed and turned on her bed beset by ‎convulsions ‎and the agonies of hell. Because of the beating and knocking at the door of the ‎mournful Lover, ‎the State of Israel was born.‎”

V. 3 Oaths and 6 Knocks

At its core, the Rav’s Kol Dodi Dofek was a defense of Zionism against those who opposed it for either practical or theological reasons. Some opposed modern Zionism because it was led by secular Jews who did not share the same vision for what a Jewish home should look like. Others opposed it based on the Three Oaths mentioned in Shir HaShirim (Ketuvot 111a), which they interpreted to mean that Jews should wait passively for Mashiach to bring the redemption, rather than push it forward prematurely.

Rather than view Zionism as a breach of God’s will, the Rav identified six “knocks at the door” that he felt demonstrated God’s calling to support a Jewish State.

1) Political

“First, the knock of opportunity was heard in the political arena… No one can deny that from the standpoint of international relations, the establishment of the State of Israel, in a political sense, was an almost supernatural occurrence. Russian and the Western countries together supported the idea of the establishment of the State of Israel, perhaps the only recommendation on which they united. I tend to believe that  the United Nations was created only for this purpose…”

2) Military

“Second, the knock of the Beloved could be heard on the battlefield. The small Israeli Defense Forces defeated the powerful armies of the Arab countries. The miracle of the “few defeating the many” happened before our eyes. Even more astonishing, God hardened the hearts of Yishmael and directed it to go to war against the State of Israel…”

3) Theological

“Third, the Beloved began to knock as well on the door of the theological tent and this might be the strongest knock of all. I have emphasized several times when speaking of the land of Israel that all the claims of Christian theologians that God deprived the Jewish people of its rights in the land of Israel, and that all the biblical promises regarding Zion and Jerusalem refer, in an allegorical sense, to Christianity and the Christian Church, have been publicly refuted by the establishment of the State of Israel as false assertions that have no substance or root.”

4) Youth

“Fourth, the Beloved knocked on the hearts of the bewildered and assimilated youth. The divine concealment in the early 1940’s confused the minds of Jews in general and the young in particular. Assimilation grew and the push to escape Judaism and the Jewish people reached its peak. Fear, despair and ignorance caused many to abandon the Jewish people… Suddenly, the Beloved knocked on the hearts of these perplexed youth, and His knock… slowed, at least, the process of escape.”

5) Self-Defense

“The fifth knock of the Beloved is perhaps the most important of all. For the first time in the history of our exile, divine providence has surprised our enemies with the shocking discovery that Jewish blood is not hefker. If the Jew-haters term this “an eye for an eye,” we will agree with them. If we want to preserve our national-historical existence, sometimes we have to interpret “an eye for an eye” literally.”

6) Refuge

“The sixth knock that should not be ignored was heard when the gates of the land were opened. A Jew who flees from an enemy country now knows that he can find a secure refuge in the land of his ancestors. This is a new phenomenon in our times. Until now, when Jewish populations were uprooted from their places, they wandered in the wilderness of the nations without finding a refuge in another land… Now, the situation has changed.”

The question posed by the Rav, indeed posed by Shlomo HaMelech in Shir HaShirim, is when our Beloved comes knocking at our door will we be ready to open it?

In 2023, to mark Israel 75th anniversary, Rabbi Steven Pruzansky, Rabbi Emeritus of Congregation Bnai Yeshurun of Teaneck, NJ, wrote an article highlighting 6 knocks of his own that had inspired him since the publishing of Kol Dodi Dofek:

1) Capture of Adolf Eichmann

2) Six Day War

3) Raid on Entebbe

4) Kibbutz Galuyot, the ingathering of the exiles

5) Religious Revival in the State of Israel

6) Start-Up Nation

And this got me thinking. In the last 2.5 years Am Yisrael has been through so much, and has experienced so many incredible things. We could easily come up with our own list of 6 knocks just since 10/7.

1) Return of all our hostages

2) Defeat of the leaders of Hamas, Hezbollah, Iran, and Syria

3) Incredible military and intelligence operations

4) Resilience of the Israeli Economy

5) Growing Aliyah and Army Enlistment even during war

6) Achdut and Jewish Pride

When you sit around the table with your family, see what other knocks you can think of, either for Klal Yisrael as a whole, or for your own family.

VI. The Eye of the Needle

So let’s return to our original question. Why do we open the door for Eliyahu HaNavi?

Yes, opening the door is a sign of our faith in God’s protection. But it’s more than that. It’s a message to ourselves and to our children that we have to always be ready to answer the knock at the door. To see the miracles around us and open our hearts.

There’s a story about the students of the Kotzker Rebbe who were disappointed that after opening the door for Eliyahu, he never appeared. They told their Rebbe, "We did everything right, but Eliyahu didn't come." The Rebbe replied, "Fools! Do you think Eliyahu enters through the door? He enters through the heart!"

Let’s return to the pasuk of Kol Dodi Dofek (Shir HaShirim 5:3). Immediately preceding those words, the pasuk says “אֲנִי יְשֵׁנָה וְלִבִּי עֵר - I was asleep but my heart was awake.” What does that mean?

It means that even while our body sleeps, our heart keeps working. The Midrash (Shir HaShirim Rabbah 5:2) explains:

“The congregation of Israel said before the Holy One blessed be He: Master of the universe:

• “I am asleep” regarding the mitzvot, “but my heart is awake” for acts of kindness.

• “I am asleep” regarding acts of charity, “but my heart is awake” to perform them. 

• “I am asleep” regarding the offerings, “but my heart is awake” for reciting Shema and Amida. 

• “I am asleep” regarding the Temple, “but my heart is awake,” in synagogues and study halls.

• “I am asleep” regarding the end [of days], “but my heart is awake” for the redemption.”

In other words, even when we don’t seem ready, deep down we are yearning for the knock and are primed to respond.

And then the Midrash continues with a famous teaching:

אָמַר הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא לְיִשְׂרָאֵל, בָּנַי, פִּתְחוּ לִי פֶּתַח אֶחָד שֶׁל תְּשׁוּבָה כְּחֻדָּהּ שֶׁל מַחַט, וַאֲנִי פּוֹתֵחַ לָכֶם פְּתָחִים שֶׁיִּהְיוּ עֲגָלוֹת וּקְרוֹנִיּוֹת נִכְנָסוֹת בּוֹ

“The Holy One blessed be He said to Israel: My children, open for Me one opening of repentance like the eye of the needle, and I will open for you openings that wagons and carriages enter through it.”

All we are asked to do is crack the door open a tiny bit and Hashem will do the rest.

VII. What Is Your Knock?

I don’t know if you had anyone standing at the door when you opened it for Eliyahu this year. But this morning’s Megilla reading asks each of us to reflect on whether our hearts are open to the knocks all around us. Do we see נסיך שבכל יום עמנו, the miracles that happen for our Nation and for us as individuals on a daily basis? Do we understand that we are not just passive spectators, but that we play a role in bringing redemption?

“Kol Dodi Dofek - The voice of my beloved is knocking!”

Are we ready to answer the door?