October 13, 2024|י"א תשרי ה' אלפים תשפ"ה Yom Kippur Yizkor: Crying over Lost Moments By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

Yizkor is the prayer when we remember our loved ones who are no longer with us, and we ask God to remember them as well. On Yom Kippur, this prayer takes on an even deeper resonance. Today is Yom Ha-kippurim—the day of atonements. Rav Yaakov Weil explains that Yom Kippurim is in the plural because it brings atonement both for the living and the dead. Of all days on the Jewish calendar, Yom Kippur is when Yizkor holds the greatest significance.

This is the first Yom Kippur when we remember those who perished on October 7th and in the days that followed. They died defending our land, and in our eyes, they are kedoshim—holy. They do not need atonement from us. Yet Yom Kippur, this day of remembrance, calls us to be inspired by their sacrifice—to inspire ourselves to do teshuva in their memory.

We are familiar with the story of Rabbi Chananya ben Tradyon, one of the Ten Martyrs, who was wrapped in a Torah scroll and set ablaze by the Romans. His executioner, in a moment of mercy, sped up his death and, for that small act, earned a share in the World to Come. Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, upon hearing this, wept. He said, "Yesh koneh olamo b’sha’ah achat, v’yesh koneh olamo b’kamah shanim"—some earn their share of eternity in a single moment, while others work their entire lives for it.

Rabbi Meir Shapiro of Lublin asked: Why did Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi cry? Shouldn’t he have rejoiced that in one moment of heroism, a person can earn eternal reward? His answer is profound. Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi wept because we may not always recognize when that moment comes. We may be distracted. A person can acquire eternity in an hour, but how many of these moments pass us by unnoticed? That is why he wept—for the missed opportunities.

This past year, we lost so many heroes who seized their moment. One story is of a soldier in Gaza whose name I don’t know, but the story was told to Rav Yosef Rimon. This soldier saw terrorists approaching. A fellow soldier, a husband and father of four, started to lead the charge, but our hero, single and not religious, grabbed him and said, “You can’t lead—you have a family.” He led the attack instead, neutralizing the terrorists but losing his life in the process. Yesh koneh olamo b’sha’ah achat. This was his moment, and we remember him now—Yizkor.

Another hero was Shlomo Ron from Kibbutz Nahal Oz. On October 7th, when terrorists infiltrated, Shlomo told his wife and caretaker to hide in the safe room while he sat calmly in an armchair. Two of his children and a grandchild were in another room. When the terrorists entered and shot him, they believed he was alone because he sat so calmly in the main room and they left his family unharmed. In his final act, he saved them through his calm courage. Yesh koneh olamo b’sha’ah achat. This was his moment, and we remember him now—Yizkor.

And we remember Matan Abargil, a soldier stationed near Gaza. When a grenade was thrown into his armored vehicle, Matan grabbed it, pressing it to his chest to shield his comrades. The grenade exploded, fatally wounding him. His last words were, “I did everything I could for my country and my friends.” Yesh koneh olamo b’sha’ah achat. This was his moment, and we remember him now—Yizkor.

So many of these moments in the past year were seized by those who gave their lives. Yet Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi wept for the moments that pass by unnoticed—the missed opportunities for growth. Rav Yaakov Medan describes this in an article titled “Hateshuva mei’cheit ha’shik’chah,” meaning teshuva, or repentance, from the sin of forgetfulness. There is a type of teshuva, he writes, that does not arise from sin but from spiritual disconnection. It happens when a person becomes aware of his distance from God, not because of transgression, but because of distraction.

When we miss moments of growth, kindness, or connection, we become distant from God. The first teshuva recorded in the Torah is that of Kayin, after he killed his brother. At first, he denied responsibility—"Am I my brother’s keeper?"—but later repented when confronted with his punishment. Kayin’s greatness was not in the quality of his repentance but in the fact that he repented at all. In an environment where blaming others was the norm, like what Adam and Chava did when confronted with sin, Kayin chose teshuva. His self-awareness broke the cycle, and this is the teshuva we seek today—the clarity to recognize and seize our moments of growth.

But it is not easy. Seizing those moments—like Kayin, like our soldiers—can feel beyond our strength. Yet the Sfat Emet teaches that we are not starting from nothing. The Torah commands us to love God with all our heart—b’chol levavcha. How can we be commanded to love, an emotion? The Sfat Emet explains that the command reveals a deeper truth: every Jewish soul contains a spark of love for God, Torah, and the Jewish people. The mitzvah is to uncover it, to fan that spark into a flame.

Today is the day for us to ignite that spark and to seriously think about our moments, both those in the past and those in the foreseeable future. Because Yom Kippur strips away distractions – food, work, daily routines—and creates a space where we can focus on the deeper aspects of our lives. This day reminds us how often we are distracted by the mundane and how easily we can miss the opportunities in front of us because of this. If we utilize today to clarify our values and goals, then we will recognize that mitzvot are not burdens but they are opportunities that align with our purpose.

As we say Yizkor, let the stories of those who died al kiddush Hashem ignite that spark within us. Let their moments of courage remind us to clarify our own values and goals so that we do not miss our own—moments of teshuva, kindness, Torah, and prayer. Let today be the day when we commit to push ourselves when these opportunities arise and not simply say I am too tired or maybe I’ll do it tomorrow or next week – because maybe this moment is your moment and this opportunity is your opportunity that will shape your entire life. Let us not overlook the chance to make peace with a friend or family member or to reconnect when pride stands in the way. Maybe this chance is your chance to once and for all to reconcile with the other person, and you may not get another chance. As we remember our loved ones, let us think about their moments, times when they displayed greatness so that we could all be here in shul today standing before God at this very time. Let us ask God to remember them favorably and let us generously give tzedakah on their behalf. Let us ask God to help us recognize and seize our moments, shaping our lives and bringing nachas to those who came before us and those who died defending Medinat Yisrael.