I have a story.  I heard it from my friend in Israel, Gary, who heard it from his son, who heard it from his Rebbe… That’s where I lose the trail and so while the essence of the story is true, I can’t vouch for all of the details.  I myself added to and changed it as you no doubt, also will, when you retell the tale.  But as Elie Wiesel teaches: “Some things are true, even if they never happened.”

A religious couple in Israel got married.  They were very much in love.  He wore a Knitted Kipa, served in the Israeli army, and went on to get a degree at the University.  She served as a counselor in a Youth Group, went on to be a teacher, and covered her hair in the manner of modern Orthodox women after marriage.

There was one thing missing from their lives – children.  They tried for many years to get pregnant – but were never successful.  At first, they were very happy to see all of their friends celebrate Brises and Baby namings.  And then bring little brothers and sisters into their homes.  After ten years, each simcha their friends celebrated was a painful reminder of what they didn’t have.

The wife turned to her religion to try and deal with her infertility.  She recited Psalms every day.  She made pilgrimages to the grave of the Matriarch Rachel, in Beth Lehem, wound a red string around the tomb, and then cut it into a bracelet that she wore on her left wrist.  Rachel, of course, was also unable to have children, until at long last she gave birth to Joseph.  Mother Rachel has been, throughout Jewish history, the “patron saint” (you’ll forgive the term) of women who are desperate for a child.

The husband, on the other hand, was more inclined to turn to science and medicine.  He read every article or book he could get his hands on about infertility, and he insisted on seeing every doctor who specialized in the field.  The couple underwent every test and procedure that was available – without success.  Ten years turned to fifteen, and then eighteen.  They were both aware that a biological clock was ticking, and pretty soon, the barely possible would be altogether impossible.

We might think: why not just adopt?  But our story took place decades ago, when adoption in Israel – at least for this couple – was not a real possibility.

Finally, the husband heard from a friend about a doctor who was having success with the most difficult cases of infertility, utilizing an experimental procedure.  The couple agreed to give their quest one last chance, and they made an appointment.  Once again they submitted to a battery of embarrassing tests, and then received this startling news from the doctor: conception was possible – but it had to be timed precisely to the wife’s monthly cycle.  He gave her a date, during the first week in October, and even pinpointed the time – between 10 PM and 2 AM.  “This is your best – and very likely – your final chance.”

The couple went home – ecstatic, until they looked at the calendar.  The date the doctor had given them was Yom Kippur evening.  As every religious Jew knows, there are five prohibitions on the Day of Atonement: We’re not to eat or drink; bathe; use perfumes or colognes; wear leather shoes; or engage in sexual intimacy.

In the Torah, there are 613 mitzvot; 248 prescriptions of what we are obligated to do (circumcise our sons on the 8^th day; honor our parents; hold a Seder on the first nights of Passover) and 365 prohibitions of what we are forbidden to do (you shall not murder; you may not eat pork; you are not to work on Shabbat).  For a serious, religious Jew, the mitzvoth are not merely customs and ceremonies, or ancient folk-ways or wise suggestions from our tradition.  Mitzvot are commandments, coming from God, delivered by Moses to the Israelites at Mt. Sinai, and ratified and codified by Rabbinic authority over a period of two thousand years.  When God commands you to do something, you don’t’ say: “I’ll think about it”, or “Let me get back to You on that”, or “Alright – as long as it fits into my schedule.”  A serious religious Jew responds to a mitzvah the way the Israelites did at Sinai, by saying: “Na’aseh v’Nishmah” – “We will listen, and we will do!”  Mitzvah number 313 in the Torah says: “V’INITEM ET NAFSHOTAY-KHEM” – “You shall afflict your souls” which is understood to mean: You’re not allowed to have sex on Yom Kippur.  It’s ASUR MID’ORAITA – forbidden by the Torah.  End of discussion.

But wait a minute.  It’s also forbidden to eat on Yom Kippur and everyone knows that there are exceptions to that rule.  If your life is at stake, if fasting or skipping medication (and the food and water that certain medications require) will put your health in serious jeopardy, then you eat, even on Yom Kippur.

And while this mitzvah is number 313, Mitzvah number 1 in the Torah is “PRU U’RVU” – “Be fruitful and multiply.”  In other words, it is a commandment to bring children in the world.  And since the doctor says the only time you can fulfill that mitzvah is on Yom Kippur – then shouldn’t this also be an exception?  The couple went to their Rabbi and asked what they should do.

Unfortunately, no Rabbi would accept this attempt at Talmudic logic: Exceptions are allowed to prevent death.  But when it comes to sex we wouldn’t allow rape, or adultery or prostitution in order to create a child.  So too, in our case; Yom Kippur takes precedence over the desire to have a child.

The couple was heartbroken.  They had come so close, and in what might very well be their last chance, they were told: “No”.

Would we follow Jewish law – no matter what, secretly hoping that God would reward our devotion just as He did with Sarah and Rachel, (who after many years of infertility, finally conceived and gave birth to a child)

Or would we overrule God, and the Torah, and the Rabbis, and commit a sin on the holiest day of the year – the very day we ask God to forgive us for our sins?

I know most Jews today don’t consider themselves religious, so maybe they don’t really see such a great dilemma here.  Having a baby is more important than some arcane rules.  Go to Temple, go home and have sex, and hope that God understands.  And if he doesn’t – tough.

And yet, those very same “not-so-religious” Jews idolize Hank Greenberg & Sandy Kofax for deciding that Yom Kippur is so important, that it trumps playing in the World Series.

And what about  the slippery slope?  If we start making exceptions, where does it stop?  Each year, Spring break falls over Passover.  Many of our high School Seniors go to the Bahamas instead of to their family Seders. 

Or a college professor schedules a test on the second day of Rosh Hashanah and students are afraid to miss it, lest they fail the course.  So they skip going to Temple.

Or a guy would like to go to shul to say Yizkor on Shmini Atzeret, but it falls on a weekday, and if he misses work, he’ll lose a day’s pay.  So he just remembers his parents in his heart.

Or she’d like to Keep Kosher, but she’s got to take a big client out to dinner, and a neighborhood deli just isn’t going to cut it.  As long as she orders “Kosher-style” – no pork, no lobster – what’s the harm?

Or you’d like to set aside one day a week for family, for tradition, for yourself – but it’s your busy season, and you’ve got to catch up on work, and your kids have a soccer game, and Saturday’s your only chance to get a haircut and buy new shoes.

Pretty soon, all that’s left of Judaism is twisting the orange bulbs on the electric Hanukah menorah and singing “I have a little dreidl…”

Back to our couple and their dilemma.  The wife, after much soul-searching, says to her husband, “I want you to come with me to see a Rebbe.”  A Rebbe is a Hasidic master.  More than a Rabbi, he is considered a holy man, who has the ability to intervene in Heaven with God.  The husband was reluctant.  “I know how this works.  We go to him, we tell him our problems, and then we hand him an envelope stuffed with cash.  He then says a prayer, writes a Kabbalistic amulet, and sends us on our way.  I don’t believe in that mumbo-jumbo.  I’m a modern person.  I believe in science.  We already have our answer.  Now the only question is whether we’re going to violate our religion in order to make a baby!”  But the wife was insistent: “Please!  Come with me to see the Klausenberger Rebbe.”

When the husband heard the name – he was stopped in his tracks.

Rebbe Yekusiel Yehuda Halberstam, from Tzanz – Klausenberg, was born in 1905.  During the war he and his family were sent off to a concentration camp where his wife and their eleven children perished.  The Rebbe survived the holocaust, and devoted his life to try and rebuild the Jewish people.  He met a widow and proposed that they marry.  She initially rebuffed him, saying “you’re too old for me.  I want to have more children.”  He promised her that he would dance at their children’s wedding.  At the age of 87, the Rebbe did dance – at the marriage of their seventh daughter.

But the Rebbe did more than just remarry and have seven kids.  He settled in the Netanya area and helped to found Laniado Hospital, which specializes in infertility cases.  Out of respect for what the Rebbe had done, in his own life, as well as in setting up a modern medical facility that deals with couples who want to have children, and out of love for his wife, the husband agreed.  He went to the bank, withdrew 10,000 shekels, put it in an envelope, and went with his wife to see the Rebbe, and to ask for a miracle.

They went to the Rebbe’s house, and sat in a waiting room filled with other people also looking for miracles.  After more than an hour, the Shammes called them, and they were ushered into the presence of the Rebbe.

They told him their story – when they were married, how long they tried to get pregnant, and all the specialists they had seen over the years.  And finally, how the last bit of hope they had rested on trying to conceive on a particular day and time – which unfortunately happened to be Kol Nidre night.

The Rebbe closed his eyes, and seemed deep in thought.  The couple tried to read his face and guess what he was thinking.  He seemed to be rocking back and forth: Was he praying to God?  Was he reviewing Jewish law and searching for a loophole?  The seconds turned to minutes.  The silence in the room was unbearable.  The husband felt the thick envelope in his pocket.  Should he have offered the Rebbe the “gift” when they first came in?  What am I doing here, he thought to himself.  Asking an old man with a long beard for a miracle, which will cost me my life’s savings?

Suddenly the Rebbe opened his eyes.  He pushed a button on his desk and the Shammes came in.  “Go to the safe”, the Rebbe told him, and bring me $4,000.”  The Shammes was used to such orders; Many of the people who came to see the Rebbe were in need of Tzedaka, and the Rebbe was known for his generosity.

The couple sat there, waiting for their miracle, but not comprehending how the $4,000 figured in their plea.  Maybe the money was for one of the people back in the waiting room, and the Rebbe was dealing with several cases at once.

The Rebbe looked at them and said: “Here’s what you do: Take the $4,000 and book 2 airline tickets to Hawaii.”

The husband tried to process this strange direction.  Was it a consolation prize – you can’t have a baby, so at least have a nice vacation?  Was this some kind of sick joke?  But before the husband could say anything, the Rebbe continued:

“Tel Aviv is 13 hours ahead of Hawaii.  But because of the international date time, it’s the same day.  The doctor said the conception must take place between 10 PM and 2 AM on Kol Nidre night.  But that’s here, in Israel.  In Hawaii, it’s actually 9 o’clock in the morning, Erev Yom Kippur.  Go to Hawaii, fulfill the mitzvah of PRU U’RVU, and then find a shul and fulfill the mitzvah of “you shall afflict your soul.”  And may God bless you, and watch over you, and may He answer your prayers.”

The couple thanked the Rebbe, left, and followed his instructions.  The end of the story, as I heard it, has the Rebbe, almost a year later, call his Shammes to bring the car around.  “Where are we going?”  The Rebbe answered: “To a Bris.  That young couple we sent to Hawaii has asked me to be the Sandek at the Bris of their son.”

A beautiful story – complete with a surprise twist and a happy ending.  And here’s why I tell it to you – on this night, or all nights.

Religion is not about magic; It’s not mumbo-jumbo; It’s not just superstition.

Religion is our way of connecting to the Divine, or searching for what is truly important in life, and of figuring out how to imbue our lives with holiness and meaning.

Religion doesn’t want blind allegiance, and God isn’t interested in mindless followers.

Religion teaches us what to value, and then challenges us to use our brains, our imagination and our creativity to achieve it.

Religion gives us hope when we are discouraged, or overwhelmed or exhausted; it helps us top reach beyond ourselves and think about eternity when we think we can’t get past today.

Religion reminds US that we are created in the image of God, and that we contain divine sparks within us.  It provides us with the wisdom of the ages, and with the examples of our sages.  It gives us rituals that show what to do, and that connect us back to a thousand generations and across the world to a hundred countries.

And when it seems that all doors are locked, religion can provide the key that opens the way for us.

We’ve got a long, hard day ahead of us.  May God give us the strength to fulfill the Mitzvot of Yom Kippur.  May this Sacred Day help us to solve the difficult dilemmas that each of us face in our lives. 

And may the New Year give birth to all that we long for.