Yom Kippur–A Precious Gift

By: Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

We are just days away from Yom Kippur. A time for us to reckon with our past, and daven for our future. A time to look inward, and search for ways to improve ourselves.

This past Monday, the world commemorated the one-year anniversary of October 7. (In the Jewish calendar, one-year will be on Simchas Torah). So much has been written and said about how the world has changed, how the horrific events have brought out both the worst in the Jew-hating world, and the best amongst those who came forward to offer tefillos, support and unconditional ahava to a nation that was suffering beyond anyone’s imagination. It was a year that created tremendous achdus amongst all segments of Am Yisroel, a spirit of unity that we so desperately need and hopefully will endure.

How should we remember October 7? What lessons can we learn, and what hopes can we yearn for? We only need to turn to our machzor and the words jump out at us. Since Rosh HaShana we have been intensely reciting the very heart-rending Avinu Malkeinu prayer. As I was reciting it verse-by-verse, several passages screamed out – I became watery eyed, with visions of October 7 going through my mind.

“Avinu Malkeinu, Our Father, our King, take pity on us, and upon our children and our infants; act for the sake of those who were murdered al Kiddush HaShem; act for the sake of those who were slaughtered…; act for the sake of those who went into fire and water…; avenge before our eyes the spilled blood of Your servants….”

Can any of us stand in shul this Yom Kippur, and not tremble as we think back to the year past? When we recite Yizkor this Yom Kippur, there is an additional special prayer for the martyrs. “May HaShem remember the holy and pure ones who were killed, murdered, slaughtered, burned, drowned and strangled for the sanctification of HaShem’s name” just because they were Jews. It is a call that should wake up each and every one of us, to never forget that these horrific acts also happened during our lifetime.

The Torah commands us, “Zachor es asher osoh lecha Amalek, Remember what Amalek did to you…” The pasuk uses the word lecha, meaning to you. It’s not just what Amalek did in the distant past. Every generation has its Amalek. Ours is Hamas, Hezbollah, the Houthis, Iran and its proxies. While we, living across the ocean in the Diaspora are not experiencing what our brothers in Eretz Yisroel are facing on a daily basis, we are obligated to feel the lecha. To be one with them, acheinu kol beis Yisroel, and feel their pain, their suffering, their losses. Asher osoh lecha, as if it happened to you – to each of us.

It is this time of the year when we think of our spouses, parents, children, siblings, and friends. We make it our business to connect with them and exchange greetings of l’shana tova. As I write these lines, I can’t help but think of those who can’t make or receive such calls this year. Those who have been murdered, those who are still held hostage, those seriously wounded, and those who no longer have spouses, parents, children or siblings to call. Those who don’t know if their family members being held are even alive.

My thoughts go back to my childhood. My grandmother a”h, known to all as “Mama”, would come once a week for a visit, bringing homemade Hungarian delicacies and special treats for us children. Mama would often sleep over and share with us stories of her life, growing up in Hungary and then eventually settling in the United States. Through her stories and deeds, Mama taught us what it means to be a devoted daughter, a caring mother, a giving grandmother. To be a people-person and have room in your heart for all.

The years passed, and I had my own family, Mama continued to make her weekly visits. Instead of to my parents’ home, they were to my home, to help me with my children – her great-grandchildren.

As Mama grew older, and it became difficult for her to travel to our home, it was my z’chus, my honor to take my children to visit Mama. I remember one visit in particular. Mama wanted to give me her “most precious possession”. What could it be, I wondered. Mama was a simple woman, with little needs. One couldn’t even buy her a gift, as she would quickly give it away to one of the countless needy individuals who came calling. Mama handed me her phone book. That was her most treasured possession. Her connection to family, friends and neighbors. Her connection to those she loved – and she loved everyone. It was her lifeline.

With the gift came instructions. “Call… call everyone before the Yomim Tovim. Keep in touch with the family. Continue calling for me when I can’t.” With this simple gift, Mama taught me what was important in life.

Mama would begin her Rosh HaShana calls on Rosh Chodesh Elul, an entire month before Yom Tov. The list was long, and she truly cherished the time on the phone with each person she called. Mama never waited to receive a call, but always called first. A friend once told me that as much as she tried to get to Mama first, Mama always beat her to it.

Over the past few weeks, as I made my pre-Yom Tov calls, Mama’s words came back to me. It’s time to pull out the phone book, or as we do in 2024, scroll down our contacts. If you didn’t reach someone before Rosh HaShana, you can still call. It is never too late to connect to family and friends. To share a bracha for a good new year. To wish a G’Mar Chasima Tova, a blessing that one’s inscription be sealed for a year of only good things.

As we make our last-minute calls, let’s not forget how precious each person is, and how fortunate we are to be able to make that call.

HaShem, Your people have suffered enough. We pray with all our hearts that You will make this coming year a year of shalom, a year of overflowing brachos, a year in which we will witness the ultimate geula.

Wishing all my readers an inspiring

And meaningful Yom Kippur!

Chaya Sora

This article was written L’zecher Nishmas/In Memory Of HaRav Meshulem ben HaRav Osher Anshil HaLevi, zt”l and Rebbetzin Esther bas HaRav Avraham HaLevi, zt”l