Ben Tzur, a young Israeli musician, has a song that is particularly popular right now. It’s called נשמות צמאות, “Thirsty Souls.” On the Israeli news channel Kan 11, one secular mother explained that she and her friends were worried their kids were becoming דתי (religious), because this year, 15 and 16-year-olds, chilonim (secular), who grew up in Tel Aviv, have been attending selichot all night long en masse. She wondered why her daughter was going, and so she asked her. Her daughter answered, אנחנו דור של נשמות צמאות, “We are a generation of thirsty souls” (quoting Ben Tzur’s song– which I will share in a moment– with gratitude to my colleagues Rabbanit Miriam Lorie and Rabbanit Atara Lindenbaum for making me aware of it).

The mother went one night with her daughter to selichot and found herself surrounded by teenage girls מתפללות ומבקשות בדבקות, “praying and petitioning with devotion.” She said she then understood– this is not the teshuvah of her generation. זה משהו חדש, This is something new. The rabbanit speaking there was not teaching about returning and doing teshuvah, about keeping kosher and separating dishes and שמירת נגיעה–refraining from physical contact. She was teaching about חיזוק הנפש ועל התמודדות, “the strength of the spirit and coping.”

The mother reflected about her daughter’s generation: They are speaking about their pain. They are a generation that grew up in Covid and war. They know what it’s like to feel alone. They are finding their voices in authentically showing up to talk to God, together. Recognizing they are not perfect, but nevertheless knowing they must show up, be together, and try. Amidst TikTok videos of people singing Ben Tzur’s song, one comment online stood out to me: “Ben Tzur, do you realize the extent to which you are repairing so many souls that until now felt destroyed?” 

I encourage us to incorporate the lyrics of the song into our personal tefillot. And for now, I want to lift up an excerpt:

A generation of thirsty souls

Fear of God without definitions

Not making declarations

Accept me as I am…

Don’t forget that I am at the level of a “benoni” 

And protect me even when I fall;

In the lowest place

Prayer is heard.

דור של נשמות צמאות

יראת השם בלי הגדרות

לא יוצא בהצהרות

…תקבל אותי ככה כמו שאני

אל תשכח שאני בדרגת הבינוני

ותשמור עליי גם בזמן של נפילה

במקום הכי נמוך

נשמעת התפילה

 

This is what secular teenagers are drawn to at this exact moment… And this reality perhaps reveals a truth that teenagers are uniquely poised to feel: When we realize that we have survived isolation, chaos, loss, war, and hatred, we become acutely aware of our greatest vulnerabilities, as well as of our greatest strengths.

The Aish Kodesh, the Warsaw Ghetto rebbe, wrote in his time as a prelude to the Yamim Noraim that the greatest form of tefillah (prayer) is tzaakah (crying out). For this reason, the shofar is central to the Yamim Noraim. I would suggest that the chiddush (new insight) of Ben Tzur’s song that resonates, heals, and revives souls that felt destroyed, is the acknowledgement that we can cry out both in song and in hope, and we can cry out even when we doubt we are worthy of doing so. Amidst the debris, we are challenged to build, to show up, to keep going. The post-October 7th Jew knows this truth without explanation. 

We are still waiting for the hostages to return home. Before Yom Kippur, I shared on social media as a prayer that IY’’H (with God’s will) by the end of this Yom Kippur all of the hostages should be home. The relief and exhale upon their return should herald a new kind of zman simchateinu. And the halacha in the Shulchan Aruch and Mishneh Berurah that we take part in building our sukkah immediately after Yom Kippur will mean more than ever. This is a prayer we need to envision.

A colleague commented that she wished she could feel so optimistic. I think this is exactly what Ben Tzur, Israeli teens– and frankly our machzor and Yom Kippur itself– are challenging us to do. At this time of year, in the Aseret Yemei Teshuvah and on Yom Kippur, we have to choose to be raw, real, and optimistic. To show up humbly without denying our flaws as we are, תקבל אותי ככה כמו שאני (in Ben Tzur’s words, “Accept me as I am”), and to ask that God protect us even when we fall short or feel discouraged, תשאר איתי גם אם לא בוחר נכון ותחזיק אותי גם בשעת הביזיון (as the song continues, “Stay with me even when I do not choose correctly; strengthen me even in my shame”). You can just hear his words echoing from the pages of the machzor…

At the start of Yom Kippur we said Kol Nidre, a text that the Zohar teaches is not about its content (others disagree, but the point itself is worth considering). Rather, through Kol Nidre, we model for God how to nullify the evil decrees against us. This sets the tone for all of our Yom Kippur davening, including in Mussaf. We pray that any judgments against us by God (or man!) made over the past year and in the upcoming year are nullified. We imagine our year ahead, after Yom Kippur, as one without the burdens of this past year. With a clean slate and good news.

We simultaneously hold hope and mourning, but they are not mutually exclusive. They are the core of each of us as beinonim (in-between people), which Rambam emphasizes on Yom Kippur we should all see ourselves as (not as a rasha or tzadik, but rather, in between the two). In Ben Tzur’s words, יודע החיים סולם, זה לא אמור להיות מושלם “I know: life is a ladder. It was never meant to be perfect.” We fall and get back up, knowing we may fall again. And get back up again. ‎And that the journey of doing so not only makes it worthwhile, but it makes us who we are and who we can be. בזמן של נפילה, במקום הכי נמוך, נשמעת התפילה, as the chorus concludes,“for at the time of our lowest depths, that is when prayer is heard.” 

Over Yom Kippur we said Yizkor. If you are like me, you thought about last Yom Kippur and the one before and how different they have all been. Last Yom Kippur we included stories of those who were murdered on 10/7 and since and collectively said Yizkor for them. We have been saying this special Yizkor since Pesach 2024 and will do the same this year. I would humbly offer that as we collectively enter into the realm of memory in both the communal and personal Yizkor, that we hold onto the words the teenage girl said to her mother about why she was going to selichot. For it is also why and how we stand here now: אנחנו דור של נשמות צמאות, “We are a generation of thirsting souls”. We yearn for those whom we miss. For what we have lost. And also, we yearn with hope for future shleimut, unity, and reunion. We yearn to be raw, real, and optimistic.

(This drasha was originally shared as a sermon on Yom Kippur at Congregation Netivot Shalom in Teaneck, NJ)

Rabbanit Alissa is the Rabbanit at Congregation Netivot Shalom in Teaneck, NJ and the president of Neshama: Association of Jewish Chaplains. She is a hospital chaplain in New York City and a past JOFA Devorah Scholar.