Six years ago, when my wife and I hosted our first High holiday services in Manhattan, I didn’t know a single person in the Upper East Side. We held the services at the Jewish National Fund on 69th Street. We were nine people in shul, six of whom were close family members - my brother-in-law, Pinny Lew, his son, three friends and myself. I stepped onto the street and davened that Rosh Hashanah not for health nor wealth, but for a minyan.
I remember standing there noticing countless Italians filing past me. I now know that they were all heading to the Italian embassy right across the street. Amid the chaos, an elderly couple, clad in athletic gear, jogged by me. I stopped them, and upon confirming they were Jewish, invited them to join the services. At first they were reluctant due to their inappropriate attire, but after coaxing them they agreed and ended up having a great time. It was at the Kiddush that day that I realized just how important it is to make it a good one, for we hit it off right away and remained good friends since. Two years down the road, the husband was diagnosed with a terminal illness. Three months before his death I put on tefillin for him for the first time in his life and performed his Bar Mitzvah ceremony.
A short while later, I became acquainted with the couple’s son with whom I also became very good friends. For years I tried to get him to don tefillin, but he always politely declined. Once I nearly had him. We had set up an appointment, but he cancelled at the last minute. Two weeks ago he emailed me to say he was visiting Israel for the first time in his life. I immediately told him he has to tour Jerusalem and especially the Kotel. I hooked him up with a friend of mine who was happy to show him around.
Anyone who has been to the Western Wall can testify to the magic aura that surrounds it. I was privileged to pray there just last Shabbat morning, and although I have prayed there countless times, the power of it never fails to captivate me. People from all over the globe are united by a pile of bricks, and yet the energy is electrifying. Indeed when my friend touched the precious stones for the first time, he became very emotional and broke down crying.
My Chabad colleague, Rabbi Weiss, who is stationed at the Kotel went over to this man and gently asked him if he’d like to don tefillin. He agreed immediately. In fact he emailed me right then to inform me of the good news, and then the next day he told me he had returned to the Kotel to put on tefillin again. I thought, wow! Now what does that say about me?! I try for years to get him to put on tefillin, and then a total stranger gets him to do it within minutes! I guess his presence at the Kotel stirred something in his soul, connected him to G-d in a most profound manner. For a moment his soul was free and unshackled, soaring up to fuse with its Maker.
We stand now days before Yom Kippur. On this auspicious day, we beseech G-d to bless us with a good, happy, healthy and sweet new year through fasting and prayer. All that G-d desires from us is to sincerely cleave to Him. For some people that connection is sparked by a visit to a holy place.
Yom Kippur does the trick for the rest of us. For on this day, just as by a holy place, it is only G-d and me. The final prayer on Yom Kippur is Neila, which means “to close.” The Kabbala explains that during these moments of utter sanctity, G-d locks everybody else out the room and creates a special space for each Jew and G-d alone. A place that cannot be invaded by a foreign entity, a bubble of belonging. This space is the opportunity G-d hands us to forge a connection with Him, once we depart from that space, it is up to us to keep that bond alive.
This Yom Kippur, book your space with G-d. After all, He awaits us all…