Who Is G-d? A Yom Kippur Question

The son of the famed Rabbi Akiva Eiger, Reb Yehuda Leib, chose to follow the path of Chasidism, notwithstanding the protestations of his venerable father. It was the night of Yom Kippur, and Reb Yehuda Leib decided to remain in the Beis Medrash after Kol Nidre prayers and spend the night studying Talmud. Shortly thereafter, his spiritual reverie was interrupted by a boisterous group of young Chasidim who burst into the study hall. Their celebratory cheer struck the young Yehuda Leib as absurdly inappropriate and wildly discordant with the solemn nature of the day.

He bit his tongue, however, and attempted to go back to his studies. Suddenly he hears them making preparations for a festive Kiddush. At this point, he can no longer restrain himself. “Have you forgotten that tonight is Yom Kippur?” “Of course not,” they replied. “Is it not a Yom Tov (Jewish festival) and therefore deserving of the traditional holiday Kiddush over wine?” “Of course it is a festival, but it's the one holiday where G-d told us explicitly to fast!” “And who is G-d?” asked the Chasidim.

At that point Reb Yehuda Leib began to flounder in his response. Eventually, it dawned on him that he truly couldn’t yet provide a satisfactory answer.

His relief at knowing that they would never break their fast came hand in hand with his “sobering” realization that even after studying G-d's law for so many years, he still had no idea who G-d even was.

In our determination and eagerness to check off all the big-ticket personal transformation goals in our High Holiday bucket list, we end up in danger of “not being able to see the forest for the trees.” If we have yet to discern a heavenly grin somewhere in the backdrop of our intended earthly actions and goals for this upcoming new year, then we risk becoming like the runner who quickly tires and drops out of the race that has no clear finish line.

Where to begin? If the Kotzker's famous answer to the question he posed regarding the “whereabouts of G-d” was “wherever we let him in,” then perhaps we start knowing WHO he is by visiting all the places we have learned to lower our guard and let him in. “HIM” might then take on the shape and contours of the vast hollowed spaces vacated by our ego-driven fears and our meticulously curated images.

If letting down our guard and letting G-d in is indeed “where G-d is” then might not the utter vulnerability of trust in another—otherwise known as love, a human “letting in”—not form the outline of “Who G-d might be”? If so, would the Kotzker then respond that “if one wants to know who G-d is, then they should pay close attention to any and all manifestations of deep and true love; and perhaps, one might discern, glowing within, a faint but distinct silhouette of the Divine”? To paraphrase the words of Abbott and Costello, “Who knows?”