I found this quote this morning doing my own preparation for Yom Kippur: “One who doesn’t cry during the Ten Days of Teshuvah—his soul is not complete. When one cries, it is a sign that he is being judged above at that moment.” (The Ari). Yoma 86b in the Talmud teaches that there are two types of teshuvah, that from fear and that from love. The latter has the power to transform the past; it actually transforms intentional sins into merits. Simon Jacobson continues, “That is the power of teshuvah that comes from love—not fear of punishment or guilt, but out of love to get closer to our Source.”
I cried this week. I don’t usually cry. It was frowned upon in my family. Sometimes I think I don’t slow down long enough to allow myself to cry. But there I was, on the bimah, as the rabbi, blessing my only daughter before she left for Los Angeles. And I laughed and I cried. It was a real moment, unscripted. Then my bimah partner, Saul gave me a big hug. Later this week that same Saul cried when we recited Kaddish over the graves of his wife and daughter at Kever Avot. Then this morning I cried again. These were definitely tears of love. Did I do it because I thought I would be judged? No. Do I think so? I am not sure. But I do know that part of the process of the Days of Awe is to open ourselves so completely. This crying is part of the process. We can’t stay tough forever. It doesn’t work. I know. I tried. I am reminded of a song from Free to Be You and Me: “It’s alright to cry. Crying gets the sad out of you. It’s alright to cry. Crying gets the mad out of you.”
Crying is actually a sign of strength. And courage. And empathy. And love. Many cried in the Hebrew Bible:
Genesis 21 says Hagar wept.
Genesis 27 says Esau wept.
Genesis 29 says Jacob wept.
Genesis 42 says Joseph wept.
Judges 14 says Samson’s wife wept.
1 Samuel 1 says Hannah wept.
1 Samuel 20 says Jonathan wept.
1 Samuel 30 says Saul wept.
2 Samuel 1 says David wept.
2 Kings 8 says the man of God wept.
2 Kings 13 says Joash wept.
2 Kings 20 says Hezekiah wept.
On Yom Kippur the High Priest would cry and plead for his people. G-d answers a repentant Hezekiah, “I have heard your prayer. I have seen your tears.” (Isaiah 38:4). G-d hears the silent cries of Ishmael. (Gen. 21) Rachel weeps for her children, “A cry is heard on the heights, wailing and bitter tears. Rachel is weeping for her children. She refuses to be comforted for her children who are no more (Jeremiah 31:15). This is a promise and a comfort for all the generations of Jews in exile. “A mother’s tears for her displaced children were the assurance of not being forgotten.”
We know that G-d is compassionate and loving, even to the 1000th generation. We know that G-d will be with us, lighten our burden and give us rest. We learn this from the aftermath of the Golden Calf. Moses does not want to go back up that mountain and he cries out, “Who will go with me?” God answers, “I will go with you and give you rest.” G-d then proclaims the 13 Attributes.
People ask me if G-d cries. I have to answer, an anthropomorphic as it is, YES, even G-d weeps “‘Let my eyes flow down with tears night and day, and let them not cease; for the virgin daughter of my people has been crushed with a mighty blow, with a sorely infected wound.’” (Jeremiah 14:17). But it is not clear who is doing the crying, G-d or Jeremiah. Rabbi Tanhuma to claim that it must be about God, that God cries because no man can cry without ceasing. Mishnah Sanhedrin teaches that even when a criminal is hanged, God cries out ‘woe unto Me.’ Since we are created in the image of the Divine, whatever we do to others, it is as if we do it to G-d.. “When I injure my fellow man, I injure God.” (Abraham Joshua Heschel) So even if anthropomorphic, G-d cries. When G-d cries and we recognize that cry, we know we have not been forgotten and we are comforted.
This week our nation will pause to remember September 11. I was in New York that day. I remember the blue sky. I remember the smoke. I remember the sirens and the deserted streets. I remember the raw fear. I remember the tears. This week there will be more tears. There will be more fear. And there will be the lingering question. Where was G-d? For me the answer remains, as taught to me by Rev. Larry Zimmerman at John Oganowski’s funeral, the pilot from Flight 11. G-d was there crying with us, with the flight attendants of Flight 11 who bravely used their cell phones to report what was happening, with the passengers on Flight 83 who took down their own plane, with every first responder who rushed into help, with every person trapped in the stairwells, with every person who lost a loved one, with our nation as a whole as we once again wrestle with how to respond to unspeakable tragedies. G-d weeps with us every time we choose to do evil.
May we, this week, cry tears. Real tears. Of love. Of repentance. Of teshuvah. Then our preparations for Yom Kippur will be more complete.