Our friend Rav Dovid Kaplan relates that one of his talmidim called just before Yom Kippur to ask if it was halachically necessary to ask for Mechila (forgiveness) from his wife. Reb Dovid replied: "You don't have to ask your wife to forgive you; you have to BEG her!"
We place an awful lot of emphasis we upon repairing and renewing our relationship with Hashem during these Aseret Y'mai Teshuva, don't we? We add numerous Tefilot to the regular davening; we say Selichot each night or day; we pound our chests in the Al Chet prayer and recount the litany of our spiritual shortcomings.
All of that is, of course, necessary & absolutely appropriate. But it's not nearly enough.
The Torah refers to the Day of Atonement as "Yom Ha-Kippurim." Have you ever wondered why it is in the plural form, rather than the singular "Yom Kippur?"
I suggest to you that the true meaning of Yom Ha-Kippurim is, "the Day of Reconciliations." This is a day when - if we truly desire to perfect our soul - we must work, and work hard, to reconcile with all those around us.
If we have a grudge against a neighbor, this is the time to walk over with a bottle of wine and make things right. If we have become alienated from a former friend, or an aunt or cousin, now is the time to make amends. If we aren't right with our kids - or especially our spouse - then we must repair the relationship now. Even if we are sure that WE are the wronged party, let us break the cycle of animosity and bitterness by humbly apologizing and asking for a new start. A hug and a kiss are often the most eloquent prayers that we can ever utter.
I may have told you the true story about the boy from a prominent Jerusalem family who ran away to India, and the Rav who was hired by the parents to bring him back. The Rav located the young man and began to castigate him: "How could you do this to your wonderful family? They are such ba'alei tzedaka, such ba'alei chesed. Not a single Shabbat or Chag goes by when their table isn't filled with numerous strangers from off the street!"
"That's exactly the point, Rabbi," said the boy, with a piercing stare, "I am trying to become so much of a stranger to my parents, that they will welcome ME with equal love & intensity!" The Rabbi's face turned white. He returned to Jerusalem and instructed the parents to reserve at least one Shabbat each month when only family would grace their table and receive undivided attention.
Chesed begins at home, and Teshuva waits at your doorstep. All you have to do is reach out.
----------------------------------
Rabbi Weiss is Director of the Ra'anana Torah Outreach Center
We place an awful lot of emphasis we upon repairing and renewing our relationship with Hashem during these Aseret Y'mai Teshuva, don't we? We add numerous Tefilot to the regular davening; we say Selichot each night or day; we pound our chests in the Al Chet prayer and recount the litany of our spiritual shortcomings.
All of that is, of course, necessary & absolutely appropriate. But it's not nearly enough.
The Torah refers to the Day of Atonement as "Yom Ha-Kippurim." Have you ever wondered why it is in the plural form, rather than the singular "Yom Kippur?"
I suggest to you that the true meaning of Yom Ha-Kippurim is, "the Day of Reconciliations." This is a day when - if we truly desire to perfect our soul - we must work, and work hard, to reconcile with all those around us.
If we have a grudge against a neighbor, this is the time to walk over with a bottle of wine and make things right. If we have become alienated from a former friend, or an aunt or cousin, now is the time to make amends. If we aren't right with our kids - or especially our spouse - then we must repair the relationship now. Even if we are sure that WE are the wronged party, let us break the cycle of animosity and bitterness by humbly apologizing and asking for a new start. A hug and a kiss are often the most eloquent prayers that we can ever utter.
I may have told you the true story about the boy from a prominent Jerusalem family who ran away to India, and the Rav who was hired by the parents to bring him back. The Rav located the young man and began to castigate him: "How could you do this to your wonderful family? They are such ba'alei tzedaka, such ba'alei chesed. Not a single Shabbat or Chag goes by when their table isn't filled with numerous strangers from off the street!"
"That's exactly the point, Rabbi," said the boy, with a piercing stare, "I am trying to become so much of a stranger to my parents, that they will welcome ME with equal love & intensity!" The Rabbi's face turned white. He returned to Jerusalem and instructed the parents to reserve at least one Shabbat each month when only family would grace their table and receive undivided attention.
Chesed begins at home, and Teshuva waits at your doorstep. All you have to do is reach out.
----------------------------------
Rabbi Weiss is Director of the Ra'anana Torah Outreach Center