Some may suggest that it is the melancholic melody of Kol Nidrei and the association with the Expulsion of the Jews from Spain, the one that evoke deep reminiscences within us. However, isn’t our 20^th century’s tragedy, the Shoah, bigger in magnitude and closer to our experience than the Inquisition of the Middle Ages?

We may feel that the few minutes we dedicate to the memory of our beloved ones during the Yizkor ceremony, are the ones, which give a special meaning to this day. However, since we also recite Yizkor on Passover, Shavuot and Shemini Atzeret, we may conclude that it is the day of Yom Kippur, which gives a special meaning to today’s Yizkor and not the other way around.

The fast, the association with Rosh Hashanah, the white color everywhere and the sad-like melodies of the day, are also elements to consider when we analyze the particularities of the day.

Or maybe there is a combination of all the factors mentioned above, which make this day a special one: the biblical background, the memories of our beloved ones, the historical reminiscences, the sad-like melodies and the challenge of the fast (Our Christian friends hardly believe that we can go 25 hours without eating and drinking).

In any event, I would like to share with you a different perspective on what makes Yom Kippur a special day for most of us. I believe that consciously or unconsciously, we perceive this sacred day as a time for truth in which we can ask ourselves what Rabbi Cohen presented to us on the night of Selichot as ‘hard questions’. Busy during the entire year, earning a living or just killing time, we didn’t have the time or the right mental disposition to ask the right questions:

All of us, in one way or another, are exposed to these questions during Yom Kippur. Although these existential questions are not necessarily part of the sacred texts associated with Yom Kippur, we find a way to include them. Sometimes they appear in a responsive reading, sometimes through the deep silence of Yizkor. For some of us the questions are related to our parents, and the thought that we did not live our lives according to their expectations may bring feelings of remorse and repentance. Some of us may find a possibility to question our roles as husbands, parents, friends and congregants.

However, if these questions have a place on every Yom Kippur, they certainly have a seat of honor on this specific Yom Kippur, a few days after the tragedy that befell us last September 11.

As one of the members of Beth Israel suggested to me on Rosh Hashanah, the magnitude of last weeks’ tragedy is so overwhelming, that we may find ourselves talking about it for many years.

More than 7000 people went to work two weeks ago without knowing that that day would be the last day of their lives, 7000 people like you and me. Never before have 7000 people looked so much like you and me, and this –as I mentioned last Rosh Hashanah- is a frightening thought.

I always like to entertain the thought that I will be able to plan the last day of my life. I like to imagine myself, surrounded by my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren (in my imagination I am living a long and healthy life and I am still strong and lucid). I see myself choosing carefully my last words, the ones to my children, the ones to my wife and the ones to my friends. In my long life, I also had the time to answer in a satisfactory way the above difficult existential questions.

But the events of two weeks ago reminded me of the sad truth that I might not be able to plan my last days so carefully. Moreover, I can never know when my last day will be. And so, the questions we shared last Selichot, on September 8, received a new light 72 hours later.

Suddenly, new simple questions came to my mind. Did I kiss my children before they went to school this morning? Did I say good bye to my wife? When was the last time I called my parents to tell them how much I love them and how much I miss them? Or even more practical questions: Am I spending my days and hours the way I should? I feel I have prospered in America. However, is the price I am paying by being far from my family and friends too high? Did I travel enough? Study enough? Give enough? Did I save kind words for a future occasion that may not come? Did I ask for forgiveness from those I hurt? Did I forgive those who hurt me? Should my Maker call me today to His presence, am I ready to appear in front of Him, or not? Did I try to please God or was I too busy pleasing myself and pleasing others?

Tomorrow we will come back to our daily routine and slowly we will forget about the holiness of this special day and the difficulty of its physical, intellectual and emotional challenges. Tomorrow we will continue earning a living, going to school, killing time.

However, today, in the midst of our fast and our tiredness, we may be able to focus on those hard questions, which carry the potential of making our lives more meaningful during this coming year. We may not find good answers to them, but still we should not underestimate the power of good questions. Good questions are like good prayers: answered or unanswered, you have already walked half of the way.

May the Almighty bless us with health and sustenance, joy and tranquility, with a peaceful and good year!

Gemar Chatima Tovah!