Why do so many people claim to feel a tangible holiness while standing at the Kotel? We learn in the Midrash that regardless of whether or not the Beit HaMikdash is actually standing, the site of the sanctuary remains sacred, even in times of exile and desolation. R. Acha says (Shemot Rabba), “The Shechinah (Divine Presence) never departs from the Western Wall. All the desolation is limited to the buildings.”

This is profoundly relevant to each and every one of us as we approach the Days of Awe. Within every Jew there is a personal sanctuary which also remains sacred regardless of the spiritual state in which he may find himself. Any spiritual desolation a Jew may experience is analogous to the buildings above the foundation. No matter how far a Jew strays or how estranged is his external connection to Hashem, his inner sanctuary, his foundation, remains whole; clear and pure.

We see throughout history that when called upon to forsake the very G-d they denied, Jews with no visible connection to G-d willingly gave their lives to sanctify His name. We hear stories of people who, having eschewed religion all their lives, ask to have a proper Jewish burial as their final dying request. Many find, as they drift farther away from their source, that they feel an emptiness, an ache to know more about G-d and a tremendous yearning to return to Him. Still others wish to return, but feel terribly afraid that there is some invisible boundary that once having crossed it, there is no going back. These people must be told: G-d has no limits like a person of flesh and blood. When we sincerely ask for His forgiveness, He forgives, whether we sin one time, a hundred, a thousand times or more. He knows the purity of our souls and waits for us to find our way home.

A story is told of a Jew who, during the Holocaust, worked as a guard for the Nazis. He was as sadistic as any Nazi towards his fellow Jews in Bergen-Belsen. With Yom Kippur drawing near, the prisoners approached a respected and much loved rabbi, and fellow inmate, and asked him to be their representative to ask this Jewish kapo if they could be excused from work on the holy day. The rabbi was hesitant, as the request alone could bring about certain death, but he went ahead and asked. To his great surprise, the guard replied, “I cannot do anything for you on the evening of Yom Kippur, but during the day I will put you to work cleaning the officers’ quarters without polish or water so that it will not be against halachah. I myself will supervise.”

At mealtime on Yom Kippur day, the Nazis burst in with heaping trays of food and set them before the starving Jewish inmates with one simple demand: eat or be shot. This same kapo stood up defiantly and said, “This is a day holy to the Jews and we may not eat.” They asked him to repeat that statement, which he did proudly and lovingly, and then they shot him dead.

The soul of a Jew is pure. No matter how sullied the building, the foundation is never spoiled.

We are assured that no amount of sin can sever the connection of a Jew from his Maker. How much more so during these days when Hashem opens His doors wide and welcomes His children home.

In the merit of our last efforts of teshuvah, may we all return to the land of Israel with Moshiach.

Sara Levy