Yom Kippur - The Deep Meaning of the Day in Light of Chassidus | Rabbi Asher Perkesh

00:00 What is the essence of Yom Kippur? “For on this day He will atone for you, to cleanse you of all your sins; before Hashem you shall be purified.” Yom Kippur is the day of atonement. Hakadosh Boruch Hu atones for us, forgives us for all our sins, and removes our guilt year after year. He is a King who pardons and forgives. It is a day of forgiveness and pardon. But this raises a simple question: What exactly happens? If I do teshuvah and Hashem forgives me, we don’t need Yom Kippur for that. It can happen every day. As the Gemara says, a person should spend all his days in teshuvah. A Jew does teshuvah before Hakadosh Boruch Hu each and every day, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu forgives him. There is no special time for it, as the Rambam also writes in Hilchos Teshuvah: the time for teshuvah is throughout the year, at any hour, on any day. The moment a Jew regrets what he has done and asks forgiveness—“You extend a hand to transgressors”—Hakadosh Boruch Hu forgives us. So if I’ve done teshuvah, regretted what I did, and resolved to change my ways, Hashem will forgive me on any day. What, then, happens on Yom Kippur? The King pardons and forgives. The Gemara says something more: even if a Jew does teshuvah during the year, that isn’t enough. For prohibitions—speaking, in principle, of sins between a person and Hashem—Yom Kippur brings atonement. Teshuvah holds the matter in abeyance, and Yom Kippur atones. In other words, even though you did teshuvah during the year, you have to wait for, and look forward to, Yom Kippur. Then it brings atonement. What is it about Yom Kippur that atones? What is the difference between teshuvah and atonement? I did teshuvah, but that isn’t enough. Atonement is also needed, and that happens on Yom Kippur. How does it atone? What exactly happens then? To understand the depth of Yom Kippur, today we’ll open our eyes to the wonderful depth that Chassidus reveals in this day. We’ll discuss a wonderful explanation from the Rebbe of Lubavitch, based

02:00 on the final Mishnah in Tractate Yoma. It gives us a wonderful new perspective on Yom Kippur and helps us understand that Yom Kippur is not just an ordinary day of teshuvah. It is a special day on which the deeper point, the innermost essence of every Jew, is revealed. Through this come atonement and forgiveness. All the wonderful things that happen on Yom Kippur stem from a profound and wonderful place, giving us an entirely new understanding of the subject. The Mishnah says at the end of Tractate Yoma: “Rabbi Akiva said: Fortunate are you, Israel! Before whom do you purify yourselves, and who purifies you? Your Father in Heaven.” Everyone knows this Mishnah. It continues: “As it is said, ‘I will sprinkle pure water upon you, and you will be purified.’ And it says, ‘Hashem is the mikveh of Israel.’ Just as a mikveh purifies those who are impure, so Hakadosh Boruch Hu purifies Israel.” It’s a wonderful Mishnah; everyone knows it. But what exactly is Rabbi Akiva telling us? “Fortunate are you, Israel! Before whom do you purify yourselves? Who purifies you?” Hakadosh Boruch Hu purifies you—your Father in Heaven. When you think about the words, they are beautiful and wonderful, but seemingly there is nothing particularly new here. After all, the verse on which the whole of Tractate Yoma is based is the verse in the Yom Kippur passage, which states explicitly: “For on this day He will atone for you.” So what is he asking? “Before whom do you purify yourselves? Who purifies you?” There it is: “For on this day He will atone for you.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu atones. Of course! Who could atone if not Hakadosh Boruch Hu? What is Rabbi Akiva adding? “Before Hashem you shall be purified.” Before whom? Who purifies you? Your Father in Heaven. Yes, “for on this day He will atone for you.” And if you look at the Mishnah in Tractate Yoma, it says this explicitly in the very same Mishnah. A few lines earlier, it already says everything Rabbi Akiva says. Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah said, in the final Mishnah of Tractate Yoma: “For sins between a person and Hashem, Yom Kippur atones; for sins between a person and another person, it does not atone until he appeases the other person.” So the Mishnah tells us that when Yom Kippur arrives, it atones for sins between a person and Hashem, and it cites the verse: “For on this day He will atone for you, to cleanse you of all your sins; before Hashem you shall be purified.” So Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah has already revealed the secret to us and told us that Yom Kippur atones. He has already cited the verse saying that Hakadosh Boruch Hu is the One who atones: “For on this day He will atone for you; before Hashem you shall be purified.” It is all there already. So, seemingly, Rabbi Akiva adds nothing new. Nor does Rabbi Akiva disagree with Rabbi Elazar. It says, “Rabbi Akiva said,” not “Rabbi Akiva says.” In other words, he is only adding something. What exactly is he adding? Here, in this Mishnah, in Rabbi Akiva’s wonderful words, lies the wonderful secret of Yom Kippur. The Gemara in Tractate Shevuos, page 13, discusses how the atonement of Yom Kippur works. The Mish— the Gemara says that Rebbi says: “The essence of the day atones.” The day itself atones. In other words, once Yom Kippur begins, throughout Yom Kippur—however we put it—the day itself atones, without a Jew doing anything. When a Jew encounters Yom Kippur, there is something about the day that atones. Then the Rabbanan, the Sages, come and say: No, teshuvah is necessary. Yom Kippur atones only together with teshuvah. If you haven’t done teshuvah, Yom Kippur won’t help you. But the Sages do not disagree with Rebbi that there is something about the essence of the day that atones, even though the halachah follows the Sages. As the Rambam states explicitly in Hilchos Teshuvah: “The essence of Yom Kippur atones together with teshuvah.” In other words, the Sages add to what Rebbi said: the day itself is not enough; teshuvah is also needed

04:13 for the day to atone. And that is the halachah. So we understand that teshuvah is needed on Yom Kippur. But what exactly does it mean that “the essence of the day atones”? What is there in the day itself that brings atonement? How does the day itself atone? You did teshuvah, and you received atonement. As we asked earlier, that could happen all year round. Yes, teshuvah is necessary, but there is something about Yom Kippur itself: the essence of the day brings about atonement. What kind of atonement does it bring about? What does this day have that no other day of the year has? What does “the essence of the day” mean? Rabbi Akiva is a Tanna with a connection to Yom Kippur. We all know that Rabbi Akiva was one of the Ten Martyrs and, according to the Midrashim, was killed on Yom Kippur or on the eve of Yom Kippur. Rabbi Akiva is the one who comes to reveal the wonderful depth of Yom Kippur, and it lies in his words. Yom Kippur is the day when the deepest point within every Jew is revealed. On Yom Kippur, the Jewish spark within each and every person awakens. We see it in reality, all over the world: Jews who may not observe Torah and mitzvos all year long, who don’t come to shul. Yet all over the world we see an extraordinary awakening. A Jew knows that on Yom Kippur he needs to be in shul. Yom Kippur moves him in some way. We know thousands and tens of thousands of stories—hundreds of stories—about Jews throughout the generations whose souls awakened when the holy day of Yom Kippur arrived. What exactly happens on Yom Kippur? It is the day when the deep Jewish spark within every person awakens. The Torah calls Yom Kippur “once a year.” That is what it says in Chumash: “once a year.” The plain meaning is one day a year. But there is something deeper here. The meaning of “once

06:10 For the day to bring atonement. And that is the halachah. So we understand that there has to be teshuvah on Yom Kippur. But what exactly does it mean that “the day itself atones”? What is there about the day itself that brings atonement? How does the day itself atone? If you did teshuvah, you were granted atonement. And as we asked earlier, that can happen all year long. We say that teshuvah is not required, but there is something about Yom Kippur itself: the day itself brings atonement. What kind of atonement does it bring? What does this day have that no other day of the year has? What does “the day itself” mean? Rabbi Akiva is a sage with a connection to Yom Kippur. As we all know, Rabbi Akiva was one of the Ten Martyrs, and according to the Midrashim he was killed on Yom Kippur or on the eve of Yom Kippur. So Rabbi Akiva is the one who reveals the wondrous depth of Yom Kippur, and it is contained in his words. Yom Kippur is the day when the deepest point within every Jew is revealed. On Yom Kippur, the Jewish spark within each and every one of us is awakened. We see it in reality; people all over the world see Jews who may not observe Torah and mitzvos throughout the year. They do not come to shul. Yet all over the world we see an extraordinary awakening: a Jew knows that on Yom Kippur, he needs to be in shul. Yom Kippur is something that moves him. We know thousands—dozens and hundreds—of stories about Jews throughout the generations whose souls awakened when the holy day of Yom Kippur arrived. What exactly happens on Yom Kippur? It is the day when the deep Jewish spark within every Jew awakens. The Torah calls Yom Kippur “once a year.” That is what the Chumash says: “once a year.” The plain meaning is one day a year. But there is something deeper here. The meaning of “one”

08:20 “Once a year” tells us that on Yom Kippur the “one” is revealed: the deeper, more inward part, the yechidah of the soul. The Midrash says, “Five names were given to it.” The soul has five names: nefesh, ruach, neshamah, chayah, and yechidah. These are not just names; they are five levels within the soul. Yechidah is the deepest, most inward part. It is called yechidah, from the word yachid, “one and only.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu is the One, unique and singular, and at its deepest point, the soul is bound to the One of the world. It is a Jew’s deepest, most inward connection with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, where there are not two separate things; they cannot be divided. That is the yechidah of the soul, and it awakens in every Jew. The Gemara in Tractate Menachos relates that Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi went to Rabbi Elazar ben Shamua, where he met Rabbi Yosef HaBavli, who was dear to Rabbi Elazar ben Shamua “to the point of one.” That is the Gemara’s wording, “to the point of one,” and everyone asks what it means. Tosafos gives several explanations. One explanation is that it means reaching the yechidah of the soul. In other words, the word “one” in “once a year” represents this point, the yechidah of the soul, the deepest part of a Jew. Chassidus explains this subject at length: the soul’s five names are five levels. Briefly, nefesh is the part connected with what we do—with thought, speech, and action, with what a Jew actually carries out as Hakadosh Boruch Hu asks of him. This is the nefesh level of the G-dly soul. Ruach is connected with feelings: love of Hashem, awe of Hashem, serving Him with feeling. Not just doing something because Hashem commanded it, but acting from a place of feeling, with love and awe. Neshamah has to do with understanding: “The breath of Shaddai gives them understanding.” A Jew understands,

10:38 studies, delves into, and grasps the greatness of Hashem. That is the level of neshamah. According to Chassidus, chayah represents a Jew’s service beyond reason and understanding. A Jew serves Hashem not only according to his intellect or feelings—according to what he understands and feels—but with a higher degree of devotion. He gives over his will to Hakadosh Boruch Hu and loves Hashem beyond reason and understanding, beyond intellect. That is the level of chayah. Hakadosh Boruch Hu is his whole life, but this is still a level of will. A Jew wants to serve Hashem; he does not want to be separated from Hashem. That desire is extraordinarily strong. It goes beyond intellect, beyond reason and understanding. There is no explanation for it, but it is a matter of will. That is what he wants. There is something deeper: yechidah. Here there are not two separate things. It is not “I want,” “I feel,” or “I love.” From the outset, we are not speaking of two separate things. This is “an actual part of G-d above.” A Jew’s very essence is one with Hakadosh Boruch Hu—“yechidah, to unite with Your Oneness.” As we say in the Hoshanos on Sukkos, “yechidah, to unite with Your Oneness”: the yechidah is joined and united, one with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. About this the Alter Rebbe said, “A Jew does not want to be, and cannot be, separated from Hakadosh Boruch Hu.” It is not only that he does not want to; he cannot. It is impossible, because this is who I am. This is my very self. There are not two separate things at all. This essential connection that a Jew has is what the Torah calls “once a year.” This “one”—“My dove is one,” as it also says in Shir Hashirim, “My dove, my perfect one, is one”—speaks of the Jewish people, likened to a dove that bonds only with its mate, with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. So “one,”

12:33 this “one,” is the essential connection revealed in a Jew. I once heard from the well-known chossid Reb Mendel Futerfas, one of the great chassidim of the last generation. He was a Jew of mesirus nefesh who spent many years imprisoned in Siberia because of his work spreading Torah and Yiddishkeit in Russia. I had the privilege of knowing him, and he would tell a remarkable story that happened to him personally. He related that he spent many years in Siberia doing hard labor, surrounded by all kinds of people—non-Jews, murderers, and so on. People were in Siberia for all sorts of reasons, while he, a Jew who had risked his life for Yiddishkeit, was there for years. He said: There was nothing to eat. There was cold and hunger, every trouble imaginable. His family managed to leave Russia in 5706, right after World War II, but he was unable to cross the border and remained there for many years. He related: Rosh Hashanah came. He found excuses and somehow arranged not to go to work. He stayed in his barracks and davened all day. He had no machzor for davening; he had nothing. He had a tallis, so he wrapped himself in it and davened what he could remember. In the Rosh Hashanah prayers we say the well-known prayer “And All Believe,” the familiar alphabetical piyyut: “And all believe, and all believe.” He said to himself, “And all believe,” and thought: Do all Jews really believe? He found the piyyut hard to understand: “And all believe that He is a G-d of faithfulness; and all believe that He is all-powerful; and all believe that He alone…” Does every Jew really believe? That question troubled him, but he continued davening. He davened the way a chossid davens, with deep concentration, at remarkable length. There was not much else for him to do; he simply sat and davened. But the question stayed with him. The question

14:39 was on his mind. He related that in that place in Siberia there was a man who was one of the toughest people there: a coarse, lowly man who struck fear into people. He was one of the prisoners, but he was something like the leader of the thugs. Everyone was afraid of him. Reb Mendel would work various things out with him, sometimes sending him cigarettes he received from home and doing other things to stay on friendly terms, so as not to get on his bad side. Not being his friend could be dangerous. So he related that Yom Kippur arrived, and this man showed up. Reb Mendel stayed in the barracks again and began davening. Suddenly he saw the man walking around there. His heart sank. He thought the man was checking up on him because he had not gone to work. What was going on? The man might take revenge on him. He really did not know what to do, but he decided not to let it disturb him. He wrapped himself in his tallis, continued davening, and hoped the man would leave him alone and go away. Several hours passed. He lowered his tallis and saw that the man was still there, sitting and walking around. He did not know what to do, and decided: Whatever happens, happens. It is Yom Kippur. Today I am davening. I am putting everything else aside and forgetting about it all. The day went by with the man still there, until it was nearly over. Reb Mendel finished davening. By then it was night, and it was gradually getting late. He was getting ready to go eat. Then the man called him over to a corner and said he wanted to talk to him. Reb Mendel was prepared for anything. He was right there; the man could do whatever he wanted, could kill him, could

16:37 to do whatever he wants. But what could Reb Mendel say to him? Telling him no was out of the question. He went with him to a remote corner of the camp, and then this man began to cry. He cried like a little child, while Reb Mendel waited, not knowing what was going to happen. Then the man said to him, “You should know that I’m Jewish.” The last thing Reb Mendel had imagined was that he was Jewish. And suddenly it came to light that this man, who looked so coarse and lowly, was a Jew. He told Reb Mendel that he had noticed him staying inside to pray that day. So he realized it must be Yom Kippur, and then he remembered that he was Jewish. He told him that he was an orphan. His father had died when he was a baby, and he had grown up with his mother. He left everything, wandered the streets, fell in with the worst criminals, and sank so low that he became a street kid in the worst possible way. Eventually he was imprisoned, and now he was here in Siberia. He said, “I had completely forgotten everything about Judaism. But I saw the way you behaved, and little by little it began to stir a spark in me. Today, when I saw you stay inside, I understood that it was Yom Kippur, and it reminded me of when I was a child. Yom Kippur. My mother used to tell me it was a special day, and I remembered that. Then I wanted to pray like you, but I didn’t know anything. Then I remembered that every morning my mother used to say the prayer ‘Modeh Ani’ with me. The only thing I remembered from my whole life was the prayer ‘Modeh Ani,’ and I began saying the words. You should know that all day long I repeated, ‘I thank You, living King

18:29 and eternal, for returning my soul to me with compassion; great is Your faithfulness.’ I repeated those words over and over, and that was my Yom Kippur. I hope Hashem will accept the prayer.” Reb Mendel heard those words and was moved to tears. He embraced the Jew, and a wonderful bond formed between them. Little by little, the Jew began to draw closer. But there Reb Mendel received the answer, the response, the message concerning what he had thought to himself on Rosh Hashanah. You asked: “And all believe?” Yes, all believe. A Jew believes in Hakadosh Boruch Hu. He might be a Jew who has reached the depths of darkness, filth, and degradation, but he has a spark. And then the moment comes; Yom Kippur comes. That spark is kindled and awakened, and it becomes clear that, in essence, he was never dirty. In his essence he is pure, clear, and clean. “I thank You”—this is the yechidah of the soul that is revealed in a Jew on Yom Kippur. This is what Rabbi Akiva comes to tell us. Rabbi Akiva said, “Fortunate are you, Israel.” What does Rabbi Akiva add to what Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah said? Yom Kippur arrives, and we are told, “For on this day He will atone for you.” What happens on Yom Kippur? Why does it bring atonement? What is it about this day? The holiness of the day brings atonement. There is something special about the day: we received the Tablets, and therefore Hashem atones for us. Rabbi Akiva says: No—“Fortunate are you, Israel.” Do you know what happens on Yom Kippur, and what the secret of its atonement is? It is that “Fortunate are you, Israel” is revealed—the true essence of a Jew. That is what comes to light on Yom Kippur, and from there comes the secret of a Jew’s purification. We see the secret of a Jew’s purification in the verse, “I will sprinkle pure water upon you”—the red heifer. One drop of water purifies a person from impurity contracted through contact with the dead. A Jew may have been in a state of that impurity all year. He may have become distant from Hakadosh Boruch Hu because of

20:41 his sins, reaching a state of spiritual death, G-d forbid. With one drop, with one spark of teshuvah awakened in a Jew on Yom Kippur, the point of his Jewishness is stirred—the essence, the Jewish spark [unclear] that awakens in him on Yom Kippur. Then it becomes clear that the Jew was never truly distant. All his behavior throughout the year was not who he was; it was dirt on the outside. It was not his essence at all. And that is the secret of Yom Kippur’s atonement. It does not mean, as people think, that on Yom Kippur Hakadosh Boruch Hu says, “You know what? I forgive you. That’s it, we’ll close our eyes; everything is fine,” as though it simply means you won’t be punished. We are not talking about punishment here. Averting punishment is possible all year round. A Jew does teshuvah, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu atones for him, forgives him, and does not punish him. Here we are talking about something deeper. It is not just that there is no punishment. Here there is cleansing, as the Alter Rebbe says in Tanya: kapparah is related to the words “and he shall cleanse the house.” To cleanse. This is a day that cleanses, a day when Hakadosh Boruch Hu cleans us completely, washes us, until no trace, not a spark of the sin remains. And not only does He cleanse us; even more than that, deliberate sins become merits. The deliberate sins are not merely wiped away; they become merits. What is the secret? How does Yom Kippur bring about a transformation in which even deliberate sins become merits? The Gemara goes on to say in Tractate Yoma, page 86: When someone does teshuvah out of fear, his deliberate sins are counted as inadvertent sins. He fears punishment, fears what the coming year may bring, wants a good year, or does not want to be punished. That is called fear of punishment. When someone does teshuvah out of love, his deliberate sins become merits. On Yom Kippur, a Jew’s teshuvah is teshuvah out of love, because on Yom Kippur his essential love is awakened—the intrinsic love with which a Jew loves Hakadosh Boruch Hu by virtue of

22:46 the yechidah of his soul. He always loved Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Even at the time of sin, that love remained faithful to Him, as the Alter Rebbe says in Tanya. A Jew always loves Hakadosh Boruch Hu. What happened, then? He became dirty because of things on the outside. That is not who he is; it is not his essence. The moment a Jew’s inner essence is revealed, he is clean, he is pure, he is connected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. In his essence, he never really did any of it. In his essence, he always remained connected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. When that is revealed—the intrinsic love between a Jew and Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and between Hakadosh Boruch Hu and a Jew, that oneness, that yechidah—then the very essence of the day brings atonement. Everything is cleansed, and not only cleansed: his deliberate sins become merits. Why do his deliberate sins become merits? The Alter Rebbe gives us a wonderful explanation in Tanya, chapter 7. When a Jew reaches Yom Kippur and takes stock of himself, he notices that throughout the year he was far from Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That distance from Hakadosh Boruch Hu, being “in a dry land and the shadow of death,” awakens a thirst in him: “My soul thirsts for You.” I don’t want to be far away; I want to be with You. I want to be close to You. So this thirst, this love, was awakened because until now I had been in a place of darkness. The darkness itself, the sins he had committed during the year, so to speak, produced this great thirst in the Jew. It awakened his yechidah, his immense love for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Therefore, the sins themselves are not only nullified; the sins themselves become merits, “since through them he came to this great love.” He reached that great love through them—through all that darkness. The darkness itself awakened in him a deeper love, a deeper connection with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and this connection is awakened

24:38 In every Jew on the holy day of Yom Kippur. And this is the central point in serving Hashem. What do we do on Yom Kippur? There is a wonderful maamar by the Frierdiker Rebbe from Motzaei Yom Kippur 5691. The Frierdiker Rebbe explains the order of Yom Kippur. What happens over the course of the day? He gives the example of a king’s son. The king’s son is part of the king. The king loves him with an essential love because he is his son. He, too, is a king. There is an essential bond between the king’s son and the king. But over time, the son did things that cast off the yoke of his father the king, and he paid no attention to what the king asked of him for his own good. So he grew more and more distant, until he fell captive to the king’s enemies. Then the day comes when the king’s son awakens. That inner point awakens within him, and he remembers that he is a king’s son and has an essential, intrinsic bond with the king. With the strength he has as a king’s son, he leaves captivity and returns to his father the king. He asks forgiveness for his past and resolves to devote himself to the king. This meeting between the king’s son and the king takes place on Yom Kippur. The Frierdiker Rebbe says that on Erev Yom Kippur, at Minchah, it is time to regret the past. That is when a Jew says Al Chet, asks Hakadosh Boruch Hu for forgiveness, and regrets everything he did over the year. Yom Kippur is a time to make resolutions for the future. Although we say Al Chet, the main point of our service on Yom Kippur is to make a good resolution: that we want to be together with Hakadosh Boruch Hu and fulfill His will. “Because of Your love, Hashem, with which You loved us,” as we say in the prayers, Hakadosh Boruch Hu established this day for us—a holy day, a day of forgiveness and pardon.

26:37 Then the king’s son returns to his father the king and meets him. Throughout the Yom Kippur prayers, a Jew’s bond with Hakadosh Boruch Hu is restored and renewed, until we reach the Ne’ilah prayer. Ne’ilah is the most wonderful prayer, when that connection is made. Ne’ilah is the time when the gates are locked, and only the Jewish people remain inside together with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Some people think Ne’ilah is when the door is about to be locked, so we cry out before it closes. It’s over, and we’re left outside. No, no, no—G-d forbid. Ne’ilah means that at that moment, a deeper part of the Jew awakens: his essential bond with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The Jew then stands face to face with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and that bond is renewed and brought into focus. That brings the greatest joy. So at the end of Ne’ilah, when this point is revealed, a Jew stands face to face with Hakadosh Boruch Hu and recites the verses proclaiming His oneness. He says, “Hear, O Israel, Hashem is our G-d, Hashem is One”; he says “Blessed be the name of the glory of His kingdom forever and ever” three times; and he says “Hashem is G-d” seven times. “Hear, O Israel” expresses pure faith. We say it only once because it relates to the soul itself, which is “a part of G-d above”—one. “Blessed be the name of His glory” relates to bringing this down into the three worlds, or into the three garments of thought, speech, and action. That is why we say it three times. Then we say “Hashem is G-d” seven times, corresponding to the seven middos and the seven days of the week. “Hashem is G-d”—Elokim has the same numerical value as hateva, “nature.” In nature and in my everyday life, I should feel how Hashem, who is above nature, permeates my natural life. So when a Jew says these words, he is saying: Hakadosh Boruch Hu, I am entirely Yours. “Next year in Jerusalem,” says the Frierdiker

28:31 Rebbe, means complete awe of Hashem—yirah sheleimah. By “next year,” we don’t mean next year, next year. We mean now, at this very moment: from this moment onward, I will have complete awe of Heaven. I will have a new bond that I am building with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, like a father and son. Then immense joy awakens. As is customary among chassidim, after Ne’ilah, at the end of the recitation of those verses, they sing and dance with tremendous joy. I was privileged to be with the Rebbe for several years and to see him standing there. Some years he stood on a chair; other years he stood on the steps, dancing with the greatest joy to a victory march. It was the song of the victory of Didan Notzach: we have won the battle, and we stand face to face with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The Frierdiker Rebbe says that the greatest joy awakens at that moment. That is when “the season of our rejoicing” begins, as we move into this great joy: the king is happy that his son has come home, and the king’s son is happy that he has been welcomed back and reunited with his father. There is also the great joy that Hakadosh Boruch Hu has not only forgiven and pardoned us, but has even transformed deliberate sins into merits. This is the great joy of Yom Kippur. May Hakadosh Boruch Hu grant each and every one of us a good sealing and a final good sealing, a good and sweet year materially and spiritually. May the coming year truly be “next year in rebuilt Jerusalem,” also physically, in the literal sense. May we merit the complete Geulah; may the great shofar be sounded for our freedom, speedily in our days, amen.