I was six years old when I experienced my very first “Where are you?” (WAY) moment. It was scary. Picture your first ever papercut, so irritating. You take a band aid and you wrap it around your finger; you feel a gentle pulsating sensation on the area around which the band aid is wrapped. That’s what my first WAY moment felt like, an almost imaginary pulse centered within my very soul. It was a thought that pecked at my mind, a question of “Why am I here?” “What’s this life for?” Why am I specifically looking at this world through my eyes? What does it feel like to see the world through someone else’s eyes? The pulsating feeling revisited me often and to this day.
Just one hour after he is put in the Garden, Adam eats from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil and disconnects from God. It’s at this moment in time that Adam realizes his state of “nakedness,” so he did what anyone in his position would do, he “hid”. And Hashem calls out to Adam asking him “Where are you?” But it’s not because God didn’t know Adam’s location in the Garden. God was asking Adam to ask himself “Where are you?” In other words, “What is your position, your role in My creation? Ask yourself this question.” That’s why Adam hid in the bushes, because he was scared of not having a purpose in life, and he was even more terrified of looking for the answer.
But WAY moments aren’t just centered around asking what the purpose of my life is, in the same way that Adam’s struggle was not only trying to determine his purpose. Adam was also broken because he felt like Hashem left him. There is a famous Psalm that we sing during times of mourning and distress called “al tashlicheni”. We pray that Hashem doesn’t leave us at a time of old age. Old age doesn’t only refer to a moment of seniority. It describes moments where I feel like things get old, when life gets old, it is a point where we ask ourselves “Where are you?” it is a point where we feel like we’re lost.
The sensation of being lost wasn’t specific to Adam, it’s something that repeats itself throughout the TANACH, whether it is Jacob’s loss of Joseph or Job losing everything that meant something to him in his life. And that WAY moment pecks at our minds even today, when we feel lost, as if Hashem has turned His back on us and left.
And there was perhaps no worse feeling of Hashem leaving the nation of Israel as in the time of the ruining of the Second Temple, a temple that was destroyed on the basis of the baseless hatred the people of Israel had for one another. But according to the Tikkuney Zohar, Hashem never left. He says “‘You have thought that from the day the Temple was destroyed that I have entered My (heavenly) house and dwelt there, but this is not so! I have not entered it at all! For as long as you are in exile, you have a sign: My head is full of dew’” . In other words God is telling them “I never left you and I never will, unless you come with Me”. Jacob thought he lost his son Joseph, but then realized 22 years later that Hashem didn’t forsake him. Job was given twice his lot compared to his initial lifestyle. Even Adam was given another chance to enter the Garden. And I think that the only reason why the nation of Israel felt like Hashem turned His back on them is because they turned their backs on one another, but more deeply, they turned their backs on themselves, to whom each of them truly was.
This Yom Kippur we ask Hashem “Where are You?” And He answers “I was always here, I never left, I will never leave.” Then He asks us “Where are you?” And then we face ourselves with the same question and then turn to each other in happiness and joy to embrace one another. Finally we apologize not for the mistakes we’ve made, but for having moments where we lost sight of how special we are. I hope this next year is filled with pulses that beat with joy, that we should be able forgive each other, and ourselves.

I love my mother. A sea full of words could not describe how much she means to me; her self-sacrifice, courage, and strength are mere words that couldn’t possibly clothe the inner depths of my appreciation. So I decided one day to sit her down and play a game. I looked into her eyes and told her how much she means to me. I told her that the way she ran things at home reminded me of how Hashem runs the world: discretely, subtly, but with the utmost care and precision. As I described how I felt, I got all choked up…tears ran down my face. I looked into her eyes and finally said, “I wish I could be like you, thank you for everything. I love you mommy”. She cried…WE cried, and I lit a candle to celebrate the special moment. All it took was a compliment, a sincere ‘thank you’, a warm ‘I love you’.