Understanding the Link Between Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkos

Topics

• From Melech to Av
• The King Waits; the Father Comes Looking
• “Can a Son Be Ashamed to Return to His Father?”
• The Kapparah Is Waiting for You
• The Shofar After Neilah: Yom Kippur Does Not Simply End
• Yom Kippur as a Living Beis HaMikdash
• Neilah: One More Chance Before the Gate Closes
• The Goodbye of Neilah
• Sukkos: We Follow the Father Home
• The Neshamah Knows This World
• Yom Kippur Elevates the Guf as Well
• Shemini Atzeres: “One More Day”
• The Sukkah: A Father Cares for the Body and the Neshamah

Transcript

## From Melech to Av

I want to understand the chain of the Yamim Noraim and Sukkos. These are not isolated Yamim Tovim. One leads into the next, and if we understand the progression, the entire avodah of Tishrei becomes clearer.

Rosh Hashanah is **Malchus**.

The Ribbono Shel Olam is Melech, and a king judges. That is why the language of Rosh Hashanah is filled with *eimah*, *yirah*, and din: **“Malachim yechafezun”**, **“Hinei Yom HaDin.”**

Yom Kippur is also a day of judgment. In *Unesaneh Tokef* we still say, **“Ki hu nora v’ayom”** and speak about din. For the beinonim, the judgment is not finished until Yom Kippur.

And yet the atmosphere of Yom Kippur is completely different.

The Acharonim describe two different structures: **rachamim b’din** and **din b’rachamim**.

On Rosh Hashanah the starting point is din, and we seek rachamim within the din.

On Yom Kippur the starting point is rachamim, and whatever din remains exists inside that rachamim.

What does that mean?

The simplest way to say it is:

Hashem is not only **Malkeinu**.

He is also **Avinu**.

We say it constantly:

**Avinu Malkeinu.**

And I have always noticed that we say **Avinu first**.

Not *Malkeinu Avinu*.

A king can show mercy, but the essential relationship of a king to a subject is law and judgment.

A father is different.

A father's essential relationship to his child is:

**“K’racham av al banim.”** (Tehillim 103:13)

Sometimes a father must judge.

Sometimes he must discipline.

But the judgment takes place inside love.

That is the difference.

Rosh Hashanah is the Melech in whose din we seek rachamim.

Yom Kippur is the Av whose rachamim may still contain din.

## The King Waits; the Father Comes Looking

There is a practical difference between a melech and an av.

Before a king, **you have to come**.

You are summoned to judgment. You appear. You plead. You try to overturn what stands against you.

That is Rosh Hashanah.

**“Kol ba’ei olam ovrin lefanav kivnei maron.”**

Everyone passes before Him.

We come before the Melech and try, through tefillah, shofar, and teshuvah, to transform din into rachamim.

That is a tremendous avodah.

The burden, so to speak, is on the person.

Yom Kippur works differently.

Rabbi Akiva says:

**“Ashreichem Yisrael! Lifnei mi atem metaharin, u’mi metaher eschem? Avichem shebaShamayim.”** (Yoma 85b)

The emphasis is **Avichem**.

A father does not simply sit and wait for a lost child to figure everything out alone.

If he sees his child going in the wrong direction, he goes after him.

He sends messages.

He guides him.

He tries to bring him home.

That is Yom Kippur.

Rosh Hashanah says:

Come before the Melech.

Yom Kippur says:

The Father comes toward you.

The din is still there.

But the whole structure has changed.

The One judging me is also trying to help me repair the case.

## “Can a Son Be Ashamed to Return to His Father?”

There is a Midrash that expresses this beautifully on the pasuk:

**“V’shavta ad Hashem Elokecha.”** (Devarim 30:2)

The Midrash gives a mashal.

A king had a son who went off to a bad way.

The king sent the child's teacher after him with a message:

**“Chazor b’cha, b’ni.”**

My son, come back.

The son answered:

How can I return?

With what face can I stand before my father?

I am ashamed.

The father sent back:

**Is there such a thing as a son being too ashamed to come home to his father?**

You are my son.

Come back.

That is exactly what HaKadosh Baruch Hu says to Klal Yisrael.

We say:

Ribbono Shel Olam, look how far we fell.

How can we return?

And Hashem answers:

**You are My children. Come home.**

This is not merely an opening that exists if we happen to use it.

The Father is **wooing us back**.

He is sending after us.

He is trying to overcome the very shame that prevents us from returning.

That is the Yom Kippur relationship.

The Melech allows teshuvah.

The Father begs the child to use it.

## The Kapparah Is Waiting for You

The pasuk says:

**“Ki bayom hazeh yechaper aleichem l’taher eschem mikol chatoseichem; lifnei Hashem titharu.”** (Vayikra 16:30)

At first glance, the order seems backwards.

Should it not say:

First **“lifnei Hashem titharu”**—purify yourselves before Hashem—and then Hashem will grant kapparah?

Instead, the Torah says first:

**“Bayom hazeh yechaper aleichem.”**

And only afterward:

**“Lifnei Hashem titharu.”**

The Alter of Kelm asks the same type of question on:

**“Machisi ka’av pesha’echa… shuvah elai ki ge’alticha.”** (Yeshayah 44:22)

Again, it sounds backwards.

First come back.

Then Hashem should wipe away the sin.

But the Navi says:

I have wiped it away.

Now return.

I understand this in light of the Midrash.

Sometimes the child is too ashamed even to begin.

So the Father says:

Everything is ready.

I prepared your room.

I prepared the food.

I am waiting only for you to walk through the door.

That is Yom Kippur.

**Bayom hazeh yechaper aleichem.**

The kapparah is waiting.

**Lifnei Hashem titharu.**

Come.

Rabbeinu Yonah describes the mitzvah of Yom Kippur as awakening oneself to return in teshuvah.

Even the **his’orerus** matters.

Why?

Because a father sees one small movement in the child and grabs hold of it.

The child turns slightly toward home, and the father runs the rest of the distance.

**“Im yashuv, miyad tekabel.”**

That is Avinu.

## The Shofar After Neilah: Yom Kippur Does Not Simply End

Why do we blow the shofar after Neilah?

Among Sephardim there are communities that blow a fuller series. Ashkenazim generally sound one tekiah.

The poskim bring several reasons.

The Shaar HaTziyun cites Tosafos that the shofar announces that this is a **Yom Tov**. Motzaei Yom Kippur is not simply the moment the fast is over and everything disappears. There is a simchah, a seudah, and even a beautiful minhag to greet one another afterward with the joy of Yom Tov.

That itself is a tremendous lesson.

Do not think:

Neilah ended; now I go back to the old me.

The Yom Tov continues.

The Meiri gives another reason: the shofar is a new **his’orerus to teshuvah**.

You finished Yom Kippur?

Begin again.

We say *Selach lanu* in the first Maariv afterward because a person can already fall back into habit within minutes. He can rush through Maariv and immediately need forgiveness again.

The avodah does not end.

But the Mishnah Berurah brings another reason as the primary one:

the shofar is a **siman l’siluk Shechinah l’maalah**.

The Shechinah is ascending.

That language is extraordinary.

If the Shechinah is now going back up, then where was it during Yom Kippur?

Here.

That, I believe, is the meaning of:

**“Lifnei Hashem titharu.”**

On Yom Kippur, we are not merely trying to picture Hashem from a distance.

Hashem comes close.

## Yom Kippur as a Living Beis HaMikdash

Think about the way we daven Mussaf on Yom Kippur.

We do not merely mention that the Kohen Gadol brought korbanos.

We relive the entire Avodah.

Every movement.

Every sprinkling.

Every count.

Every confession.

When the people in the Beis HaMikdash bowed at the Shem HaMeforash, we bow.

Why do we reenact it with such intensity?

Because on Yom Kippur the shul becomes, in a certain sense, a Beis HaMikdash.

The Avodah is taking place **lifnei Hashem**.

The Brisker Rav explains that bowing in the Mikdash follows the completion of an avodah because one is standing in the Presence of Hashem. The bowing is part of being *lifnei Hashem*.

Yom Kippur gives every Yid a taste of that.

The relationship is no longer from a distance.

Hashem is present.

And I think this also explains why we say Vidui so many times.

One could answer simply that Vidui is the avodas hayom, and therefore every tefillah must express the avodah of the day.

But there is another depth.

As Yom Kippur progresses, we come closer and closer.

And the closer I come to Hashem, the more clearly I understand what the aveirah really was.

From far away I may say, “I did something wrong.”

From close up I feel:

I hurt the relationship.

So I say Vidui again.

Then I come closer.

And I understand it more deeply.

So I say Vidui again.

The repeated confession is not repetition because nothing changed.

It is repetition because **I changed**.

The closer I stand to Hashem, the more honestly I can see the distance the sin created.

## Neilah: One More Chance Before the Gate Closes

Chazal speak about **itzumo shel yom** being mechaper.

I hear in the word *itzumo* the language of **etzem**—the core.

What is the core of Yom Kippur?

The Jew reaches the core relationship with the Ribbono Shel Olam.

The separation created by chet is replaced by chibur.

That itself is teshuvah.

That itself is kapparah.

And then comes Neilah.

What is Neilah?

Neilah is the moment when we begin to feel that the extraordinary closeness of the day is about to recede.

All year I can connect to Hashem through *Shivisi Hashem l’negdi tamid*.

I bring Hashem before me.

I work to create awareness.

But Yom Kippur is different.

The Father came down to the child.

Now the day is ending.

The Shechinah is beginning to ascend.

And suddenly we say:

**“Pesach lanu shaar b’eis ne’ilas shaar.”**

Open the gate for us at the very moment You are closing the gate.

Rav Zalman Sorotzkin once explained this with a sharp observation about human nature.

A person has weeks to prepare for something, and somehow he waits for the last moment.

Like the man rushing to mail his taxes on the deadline.

All Elul.

Rosh Hashanah.

Aseres Yemei Teshuvah.

Yom Kippur.

And now, as the gate closes:

Ribbono Shel Olam—one more chance.

Other baalei mussar explain that after such a long day, when our strength is failing, we need a final infusion of koach.

Either way, the words are filled with urgency:

**Do not close yet.**

One more opening.

## The Goodbye of Neilah

You have seen a father saying goodbye to a child.

They say goodbye at the door.

A kiss.

Another goodbye.

The door closes.

Then the child goes to the window.

One more wave.

Why?

Did they not already say goodbye?

Because when there is love, goodbye takes time.

I once heard from a close friend about the final moments of his father's life. His father was a chashuv talmid chacham, and the children were standing at the bedside saying:

“Ta, open your eyes.”

“One more second.”

At the time I wondered:

What difference can another few seconds make?

As I got older, I understood.

That is a child and a father.

**One more second matters.**

That is Neilah.

**“Pesach lanu shaar b’eis ne’ilas shaar.”**

Tatte, one more minute.

I know the day is ending.

I know the Shechinah is ascending.

But I do not want to let go.

That is why Neilah in the yeshivos can continue and continue.

It is not that there are so many more words.

There is so much more **goodbye**.

And at the end we cry:

**“Hashem Hu HaElokim! Hashem Hu HaElokim!”**

The Gra connects this to Har HaCarmel, when the people fell on their faces and declared:

**“Hashem Hu HaElokim.”** (I Melachim 18:39)

I understand the connection this way.

At the climax of Yom Kippur we have reached the deepest **lifnei Hashem**.

We bow.

We declare His reality.

And then, as the Shechinah begins to ascend, the Jewish heart says:

Do not go.

Tatte, one more second.

## Sukkos: We Follow the Father Home

Now we can understand the transition from Yom Kippur to Sukkos.

All year, the connection is from a distance.

On Yom Kippur, the Father comes close.

At Neilah, we feel the Shechinah beginning to ascend, and we cry:

One more minute.

But after Yom Kippur, we are still not ready to leave.

So what do we do?

We go after Him.

Where?

Into the **sukkah**.

The sukkah is called **tzila d’mehemnusa**, the shade of emunah.

We leave our permanent homes and enter, so to speak, the home of the Ribbono Shel Olam.

Yom Kippur taught us what **lifnei Hashem** feels like.

Sukkos gives us a way to continue it.

The Torah says regarding the daled minim:

**“U’lekachtem lachem bayom harishon… u’smachtem lifnei Hashem Elokeichem.”** (Vayikra 23:40)

What is the simchah?

**Lifnei Hashem.**

The joy is the continuation of the closeness.

Kabbalistic and halachic sources connect the daled minim with the Sheimos of HaKadosh Baruch Hu. There is even a famous account of a dream revealing a deficiency because the lulav and esrog were not being held together properly.

The exact source should be checked.

But the yesod is beautiful:

After Yom Kippur, we can almost **hold the kesher in our hands**.

The sukkah surrounds me with it.

The lulav and esrog place it in my hands.

And the Ushpizin place me into an entirely different world.

My grandfather told me a story about the Chofetz Chaim sitting in his sukkah. Talmidim approached and heard him speaking as though another person were inside. They waited. Nobody came out.

When they finally entered, there was no visible guest.

The tradition was that the Chofetz Chaim had been speaking with the Ushpizin.

Whether we understand such a story or not, it expresses what Sukkos is meant to become:

A Jew is living **lifnei Hashem**.

## The Neshamah Knows This World

I once gave that story about the Chofetz Chaim to someone preparing a sefer on him.

He hesitated.

Can you print a story like this?

Will people understand it?

He brought it to Rav Chaim Kanievsky.

Rav Chaim reportedly said:

**“Ich gleib es.”**

I believe it.

But he was not certain that everyone would know how to receive the story.

I remember thinking:

Why could Rav Chaim believe such a thing so naturally?

Perhaps because when a person himself lives in a world of ruchniyus, a story of ruchniyus no longer sounds foreign.

A person believes what his own world allows him to recognize.

And this brings us to a deeper yesod.

Chazal say:

**“Gedolah teshuvah shemaga’as ad Kisei HaKavod.”** (Yoma 86a)

Teshuvah reaches all the way to the Kisei HaKavod.

The Sfas Emes gives this extraordinary depth.

The neshamos of Klal Yisrael are rooted beneath the Kisei HaKavod.

So when a Yid returns through teshuvah, he is not merely traveling to some distant place.

He is returning to the shoresh of his own neshamah.

This also explains something about Shabbos.

On Shabbos the guf steps back from the six days of melachah.

A **neshamah yeseirah** is revealed.

Rashi explains that this added soul gives a person expansiveness for the menuchah and oneg of Shabbos, including greater capacity to eat and drink (Beitzah 16a).

What does that mean?

The body has limits.

The neshamah has a different scale.

On Shabbos, the Yid becomes more neshamah than guf.

The neshamah soars toward its shoresh.

That is why Shabbos and teshuvah belong together.

They both return the Jew toward the Kisei HaKavod.

## Yom Kippur Elevates the Guf as Well

Shabbos teaches me what it means for the neshamah to soar.

But the guf remains a guf.

Yom Kippur goes further.

On Yom Kippur there is no eating.

No drinking.

The normal demands of the body fall silent.

For one day, not only the neshamah but the **entire Yid** becomes attached to the Ribbono Shel Olam.

The guf itself stops interfering with the relationship.

That is why Yom Kippur produces such an extraordinary **lifnei Hashem**.

And now Sukkos becomes possible.

After Yom Kippur, the Jew can enter **tzila d’mehemnusa** with his entire existence.

He can eat in the sukkah.

Drink in the sukkah.

Sleep in the sukkah.

The physical life itself now takes place inside the Presence.

That is an enormous change.

Usually physicality blocks what is around us.

The world of ruchniyus is present, but the guf makes it difficult to see.

Yom Kippur, so to speak, puts a different pair of glasses on us.

Like looking through 3D glasses and suddenly discovering depth that was always there.

Now I take an esrog.

Physically, it is a fruit.

I take a lulav.

Physically, it is a branch.

But after Yom Kippur the Jew can look at them and see:

**Sheim Hashem.**

I sit in a sukkah and see:

Hashem.

I speak about Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov as Ushpizin and understand that I am being invited to inhabit a spiritual reality.

Sukkos is not escaping the physical world.

It is seeing the physical world after Yom Kippur has taught the guf itself to become transparent to ruchniyus.

## Shemini Atzeres: “One More Day”

Now we can understand Shemini Atzeres.

Why does Sukkos need one more day?

Pesach does not end this way.

Why here?

Because Sukkos is not merely a festival that happens to last seven days.

Sukkos is the continuation of the relationship we built through Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

At Neilah we said:

Ribbono Shel Olam, one more minute.

Do not close the door yet.

Then Hashem says:

You do not want the relationship to end?

Come to Me.

I am going back up.

Come visit Me in the sukkah.

So we spend Sukkos **lifnei Hashem**.

And now Sukkos is ending.

This time Hashem says to us:

**“Kasha alai preidaschem.”**

Your separation is difficult for Me.

Stay one more day.

That is Shemini Atzeres.

It is the mirror image of Neilah.

At Neilah, the child says:

Tatte, one more minute.

At Shemini Atzeres, the Father says:

My child, one more day.

Chazal connect this day with:

**“Nagilah v’nismechah bach.”** (Shir HaShirim 1:4)

In You.

Not merely in the food.

Not merely in the dancing.

Not merely in the holiday.

**Bach.**

Our joy is in the Ribbono Shel Olam Himself.

That is the whole movement of Tishrei.

Rosh Hashanah: I stand before the King.

Yom Kippur: the Father comes close to me.

Sukkos: I follow the Father home.

Shemini Atzeres: neither side wants to say goodbye.

## The Sukkah: A Father Cares for the Body and the Neshamah

The Torah says:

**“Basukkos hoshavti es Bnei Yisrael.”** (Vayikra 23:43)

Chazal discuss whether these were actual sukkos or the **Ananei HaKavod** (Sukkah 11b).

Why is the physical sukkah itself such a great expression of Hashem's relationship with us?

Because a father cares about details.

A government can provide programs.

A king can govern a nation.

But who notices that the child may be cold and says:

Take a coat.

Who asks:

Did you eat?

Do you have what you need?

A father.

That is **“basukkos hoshavti.”**

Hashem says:

I cared for your physical existence in the Midbar.

I gave you shelter.

I protected you.

I took care of you like a father cares for a child.

And then there is the second dimension:

**Ananei HaKavod.**

The sukkah is not only protection for the body.

It surrounds the Jew with a spiritual world.

A teaching attributed to the Chida combines these dimensions: the physical sukkah expresses Hashem's concrete care, while the Ananei HaKavod reveal the ruchniyus within that care.

That is the completion of Tishrei.

We eat.

We drink.

We sit physically in the sukkah.

But the physical itself carries us upward.

The sukkah becomes *tzila d’mehemnusa*.

The lulav and esrog become a language of closeness.

The simchah becomes **lifnei Hashem**.

And the Jew discovers that the same Father Who cares whether he is cold also wants to raise his neshamah toward Shamayim.

That is Rosh Hashanah.

That is Yom Kippur.

That is Sukkos.

That is Shemini Atzeres.

One continuous avodah:

**to build the kesher with the Ribbono Shel Olam and to live inside it.**