Yizkor: Thirsty Souls

A spark awakening in the younger generation, a leader who sought water in the desert – and how each of us can hold on to the moment.

The awakening of youth in Tel Aviv 

 This year in Israel, a very interesting phenomenon developed: boys and girls, age 16–17, rise early in the morning to say Selichot. We are talking about hundreds, and not in religious neighborhoods or areas, but specifically in the center of Tel Aviv. The phenomenon is so prominent that television studios invited a cultural researcher to express her opinion: what lies behind this?

The researcher said that the phenomenon exists even in her own home. She has a 16-year-old daughter who gets up every night to go to Selichot. The mother could not believe her eyes — usually she is considered the more religious one at home, and everyone looks at her as the “nag” of the family. And suddenly, her daughter is going to synagogue in the middle of the night to say Selichot, and the next morning she still gets up for school.

The mother was happy that at last she had influenced her daughter, but the daughter said to her: “This is our generation. We are a generation of thirsty souls” — a quote from a song by a famous singer that circulates on TikTok and elsewhere.

The mother asked to join her daughter. And so they went together to the neighborhood synagogue in north Tel Aviv, and she discovered that the place was packed with young men and women. In the men’s section — the boys stood, sang, and prayed. And in the women’s section — the girls, her daughter’s childhood friends, stood and prayed from the prayer book, not talking and not holding phones. They sang and prayed with devotion.

The interviewer asked the researcher: how do you explain this phenomenon? What lies behind it?
She tried to explain that this generation — the younger generation — is one that experienced the trauma of COVID. When they were 11–12 years old, they did not go to school. Immediately after that, they fell into a war that has lasted already two years, with stress, missiles falling on Tel Aviv, running to shelters, and so on.

Therefore, they are looking for something real to believe in, and they turn to Judaism, to G-d. And she immediately added: this is not religious “return” — it is not that tomorrow they will force their parents to separate the dishes in the kitchen and make it kosher. It is simply a kind of “both/and”: both praying to G-d, and also living in the way they are used to.

What she said is true, but perhaps there is something more here. In the language of Chassidut there is an expression: “Kiruv Hamaor el Hanitzotz” The nearness of the luminary to the spark.”

The expression describes a process in which G-d (the luminary) becomes closer to the soul of a person (the spark), especially in periods like the Ten Days of Repentance, when there is a special closeness between a person and G-d. In these times a person can feel and find G-d’s nearness, and sense His presence within himself.

And as the Rebbe says in a talk (Toras Menachem 5725, vol. 1, p. 17):
“During Rosh Hashanah and the Ten Days of Repentance there is the matter of the nearness of the luminary to the spark (not the nearness of the spark to the luminary, but the nearness of the luminary to the spark — that the revelation begins from Above), that the luminary draws close to the spark wherever the spark may be, even if it is far down below. And about the time of the Ten Days of Repentance it is said: ‘when He is to be found’ and ‘when He is near.’ ‘To be found’ is like a finding that comes unexpectedly, meaning that even when the spark is in a state of total distraction, not even feeling that it is in exile — still it finds (‘when He is to be found’) the luminary. And this means that through the nearness of the luminary to the spark, the spark is bound to the luminary, for the luminary draws it and unites with it.”

“The nearness of the luminary to the spark” did not begin this year. It is true that this year we see the phenomenon in dimensions we have not known in previous years, but in the Jewish people there has always been a great awakening as the Days of Awe approach, arising as a result of that nearness.

“Avinu Malkeinu – Give Water in the Desert”

I want to share with you a story about Ben-Gurion that took place exactly seventy years ago, which expresses that same awakening.

In 1954, Ben-Gurion resigned from his position as Prime Minister and joined Kibbutz Sde Boker in the south of the country. There he lived as an ordinary member.

On the eve of Yom Kippur, 1954 (5715), a group of religious Nahal soldiers from Kibbutz Chafetz Chaim was sent to the place as a security unit. Rabbi Menachem Cohen, of blessed memory, joined them to lead the prayers and so on. Before the onset of the holy day, he went to Ben-Gurion’s hut and invited him to come pray with the soldiers.

Ben-Gurion, who was a very secular Jew, agreed and came to the hut that served as an improvised synagogue. Wearing a hat, with a large Machzor under his arm, he joined the soldiers’ minyan and prayed Kol Nidrei. In the middle of the prayer Avinu Malkeinu, Ben-Gurion banged his fist on the table, stopped the prayer leader, and said: “Something is missing here: Avinu Malkeinu, give water in the desert…”

(In the south of Israel, there is always a shortage of water, and some years are worse than others.)

The prayer leader and the worshippers acceded to his request, and in every recitation of Avinu Malkeinu on that Yom Kippur they added Ben-Gurion’s Avinu Malkeinu.

He sat with the soldiers until late at night. The next morning, he again came to pray. Ben-Gurion did not leave his place until the break between the Mussaf prayer and the Mincha and Neilah prayers. During the break he asked Rabbi Menachem to accompany him to his home. He did not explain why, but the rabbi understood that Ben-Gurion wanted him to know that he was fasting.

They sat and conversed. Ben-Gurion asked many questions. From time to time he brought a Tanach and also a Gemara, and asked to hear how Rabbi Menachem interpreted the text.

When the time came to return to synagogue, Ben-Gurion went back to the hut-synagogue for Mincha and Neilah. Before the Neilah prayer he asked to speak to the soldiers, and he spoke to them about the IDF as a melting pot for the ingathering of the exiles. He ended his words by saying: “It is forbidden to discriminate between one Jew and another. In this spirit we must stand before the Almighty.” (From the book L’maan Achai V’rei’ai)

How Do We Continue Yom Kippur?

Here a question arises, which a Jew asked me this week as we sat and studied together about Yom Kippur. He said: true, we are aroused on Yom Kippur, we are in a higher spiritual state — this is a wonderful feeling. But the question is: how do we continue to maintain the momentum of Yom Kippur the day after, the week after, the month after? It is nice to feel very spiritual on Yom Kippur — but the question is what do we do with it the next day.

And the answer is: when you are in that spiritual state of Yom Kippur — during Yizkor or in the Neilah prayer — you make a resolution to add one mitzvah. Whether it is every day, or once a week, or once a month — in this way, every time you fulfill that mitzvah, like putting on Tefillin or lighting Shabbat candles, you remember that the decision to fulfill it was made in those lofty moments of Yom Kippur.

And this essentially returns you to that same feeling you had on Yom Kippur. Even on an ordinary day in the middle of winter, when everything is gray and dark — for a moment you again experience that wonderful feeling you had when you stood in synagogue, together with so many other Jews, and you felt the “nearness of the luminary to the spark.”

Yizkor 

Now, as we approach the Yizkor service, this idea becomes even more personal. Yizkor is not only about memory; it is about connection. Just as Yom Kippur connects us to G-d in a deeper way, Yizkor connects us to our loved ones who are no longer physically with us. In this moment, we feel that their spark is still alive, bound with ours, and together we are bound with the eternal chain of the Jewish people.

When we say Yizkor, we do more than remember — we link ourselves to their legacy, to their faith, to their Judaism. And just as we carry Yom Kippur forward with a new mitzvah, so too we carry our loved ones forward by living as they taught us: with kindness, with faith, and with Jewish pride.