Welcome to the website of Ohev Sholom -- The National Synagogue.

A few months ago I got a phone call. The call was from the TV show called “Survivor.”  They place people in a far way semi-dangerous place and they compete to be the last one left.  The TV show wanted me to be a contestant. 

 I was initially hesitant. After all, those of you who know me know how shy I am.  But the woman on the phone told me that if I win the contest I get a million dollars. So I started listening a little closer. I said, “Can I get kosher food?” She said, “Let me check.”  Then I said “What about Shabbos?”   There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. Finally, I said, “Can I get a daily minyan?”  She said, “Rabbi, Maybe I should speak with a Reform Rabbi. Because with you it is just going to be impossible.”

 There went my chance at a million dollars.

 Yom Kippur is a day about impossibilities. 

 Consider this question: If you had the opportunity to go back ten years and relive those ten years would you do so?  Surprisingly, studies show that most people would; most people believe that given a second chance they can do even better.

 What if you had a chance to go back anytime in the last ten years and change just one thing?  More people would surely do that.

 But, of course, it is impossible.  We can’t go back in time, and we don’t get a chance to do it over.  That’s just not the way our world works.

 But then comes Yom Kippur. The power of Yom Kippur is that we do get a second chance without going back in time.

 That is the greatness of this day.  Hashem gives us the impossible. 

 Many of the rituals of Yom Kippur as practiced in the Temple were designed to teach us this point.  What was once impossible and unthinkable becomes the regular course of the day on Yom Kippur.

 This is the nature of the day: to turn the world on its head.

 Thus, for example, the focus of the day takes place in the Holy of Holies which is completely forbidden the rest of the year.

 Normally, the place where one could walk on the altar was very strictly prescribed.  But as the Talmud explains (Yoma, 43b), on Yom Kippur the High Priest could walk anywhere.  He had no limits as to where he could walk on the altar.

 And consider this little known law about Yom Kippur.  On Yom Kippur the Kohen Gadol wore special white garments made out of linen.  In the afternoon the garments came from a place the Mishnah (Yoma, 34b) calls, Hinduyin—which is either India or Ethiopia .  And in the morning his linen garments came from a place called Pelusin.  Where was Pelusin?  The medieval Provencal scholar, Meiri, explains that Peulsin was the place that the Bible calls Ramses.

 You might remember Ramses. That was one of the two cities that the Torah lists in the book of Exodus.  That is where the Israelites worked as slaves for Pharaoh.  Now the linen from that infamous city was specifically being worn by the Kohen Gadol when he engaged in his service. 

 Do you think that the Israelites working as slaves in Ramses ever imagined that one day their work would be worn by their High Priest in Jerusalem on Yom Kippur?

 What was once impossible becomes the reality on this Holy Day.

 We are often told, “It’s simply not possible.”  But of course, it really is possible.

 Last week I saw a story, which you might have also seen.  In case you missed it, allow me to share it with you.

 Sixty five years ago the Nazis invaded the town of Chernowitz in Romania .  In that town was a family named Glasberg.  The family was forced to separate.  Two of the girls—Hilda and Bertha—escaped to Uzbekistan .  A third sister, Pepe, disappeared—whereabouts unknown to this day.  The rest of the family — parents Henia and Benzion, and brothers Simon, Mark, Karol and Eddie — stayed in Romania , finding refuge in a basement.

 After the war Hilda and Bertha moved to Estonia .  The rest of the family, including the parents moved to Canada after the war.  Hilda and Bertha were reported as dead, and indeed Bertha died in 1970, never reuniting with her family.

 The parents died in the 1980’s and brother Eddie died in 2004.  Brother Karol died in 1999, but not before submitting a testimonial about his sister, Hilda who “perished at the hands of the Nazis,” to a Yad Vashem memorial database.

 A few weeks ago Hilda’s curious grandchildren started researching their grandmother’s history. Scanning the database, the grandsons, both in their 20s, discovered an entry erroneously stating their grandmother had perished half a century earlier. And then the impossible happened. Simon and Hilda were able to reunite. "After 65 years, I have found the sister who I love," said Simon who is now, 81.  "I can't stop kissing her.  I felt I couldn't talk. I just cried.  You don't understand, 65 years ..." His voice trailed off.

Hilda is now, 75, and she too was overwhelmed.  "For 65 years, I lived thinking I had no family besides one sister," she said.

For Hilda and Simon the impossible became possible.  For the rest of us, the whole year we are denied the impossible.  But on Yom Kippur the impossible becomes possible.

Rabbi Soloveitchik always used to refer to the power of Yom Kippur as “itzumo shel ha-yom,” the day itself has power.

There is a prayer that Rabbi Soloveitchik used to read on the eve of Yom Kippur that makes this very point.  This prayer is called Tefillat Zakkah.  It was composed by Rabbi Avraham Danzig.  It is a confessional prayer.

In this prayer, we say, “There is no man so wholly and righteous on earth that he does good and never sins, therefore, in Your great mercy, You gave us a singular day in the year—natatah lanu yom echad ba-shanah—a powerful and holy day—yom adir ve-kadosh, that is Yom Kippur, to repent before you and for you to purify us, lashuv lefanekhah u-letaher otanu.”

As Rabbi Soloveitchik points out, “The Yom Kippur prayers continually invoke the day’s sanctity” in order to help us feel the sanctity and power of the day. 

So we have one day set aside as a day to turn back the clock.

Yom Kippur is so powerful.  But only if we take advantage of this opportunity. We must use the power of the day to connect to Hashem; to be grateful for the second chance; to not make the same mistakes again; to appreciate the opportunity we have. 

How can we overcome the impossible? By using our passion in service on this day to serve Hashem.  If we connect to Hashem properly anything is possible.  “It is the penitent, by experiencing this closeness who actually provides ‘power’ to the day.”

Indeed, we are about to enter into Yizkor prayers.  Is there anyone who wouldn’t want a second chance to speak with their loved ones? Is there anyone who wouldn’t want another moment, to just sit and hold their hand?  To just sing with them or sit around a Shabbat table?

It’s impossible, no?  It can’t be done?

When we say Yizkor, they might not be physically here, but we believe in the impossible.  We feel their presence in front of us as we pray. We feel them with us in the room. We hear their voice and smell their smell.  We believe that we can reunite on some level; we can have them back in our presence; protecting us; showing us the way.

 It is impossible.  But at Yizkor, especially on Yom Kippur, we know that it really IS possible.