This Yom Kippur, it may be God’s turn to confess

I can’t be the only one grappling with all the feelings that may be too heavy to carry into Yom Kippur, right?

We are taught that this is a time for reflection, atonement, and renewal. But how do we approach these days when our hearts are filled with anger, confusion, and even a sense of betrayal? How do we turn toward God when we feel so lost, so broken by the events of October 7 and the war that continues to ravage our land and our people?

Many of us are asking questions we’ve never had to ask before — questions asked in previous generations in the wake of the Holocaust. Where was God in the midst of the terror? Why did the innocent suffer while we cried out for protection? How do we find the strength to reconcile the God we have known with the silence we’ve felt in our deepest pain?

We may come to Yom Kippur with the expectation that we will confess our sins and seek forgiveness. But this year, perhaps we need more than just to speak our words into the silence. Perhaps this Yom Kippur, we need to imagine that God, too, has something to say —something that reflects our own anger, our grief, and our feelings of abandonment.

This confessional is not just one-sided. It is a dialogue — a reflection of the deep pain and brokenness we feel, and an acknowledgment that God, too, must reckon with the devastation we have faced. God speaks back to us, reflecting our own anger and sorrow, offering us space to bring these emotions into the conversation.

After all, we are the co-authors in our Book of Life.

This Yom Kippur, let us allow ourselves to feel the fullness of our grief and anger. Let us open the space for a dialogue where God, too, takes responsibility for what we have endured. And let us begin to heal, together.

* * *

God Speaks

Ashamti, I have become guilty.
• I have allowed disunity to grow among you, My children, and it tore you apart.
• I did not protect you from the terror that fell upon your communities.
• I let your eyes fall away from the bond that makes you brothers and sisters, and you were lost to fear and hatred.
• You cried out to Me in the midst of suffering, and I seemed silent.

Bagadti, I have betrayed.
• I did not shield you as the innocent were taken hostage.
• I allowed you to feel alone, even as you reached for Me in the darkness.
• You called for Me to save your children, and I did not come swiftly.
• I have tested your faith in ways that feel unbearable.

Gazalti, I have robbed.
• I let the terror steal your peace and your security.
• I allowed grief to rob you of hope and of rest.
• I watched as the innocent were lost, and you questioned whether I was with you.
• I let the world turn its eyes away from your suffering.

Dibarti Dofi, I have spoken harshly.
• I have spoken to you through the anguish of loss, and it has left you angry with Me. I have allowed others to speak harshly of you while you are in the midst of grief and fear.
• I have tested your resilience in the fires of war and bloodshed, and your hearts have hardened in response.
• You have felt abandoned by Me, as though I turned away from your cries.

He’eveni, I have caused perversion.
• I have allowed hatred to flourish, and it has spread like wildfire through the land.
• I let you see only your enemies and forget the image of God in those around you.
• You have asked where I was when the world seemed to fall apart.

Ve’hirshati, I have caused others to sin.
• I did not stop the evil that brought this war upon you.
• I allowed suffering to touch your children and left you wondering how to move forward.
• I let you stumble under the weight of hatred and despair.

Zaditi, I have sinned intentionally.
• I let the suffering come to your doors, and you questioned whether I was still with you.
• I allowed the violence to shake your faith and your sense of justice.
• You asked Me why I let this happen, and I did not answer.

Chamasti, I have extorted.
• I have asked you to hold on to faith, even when you feel like I have let you down.
• I have watched as you carried the unbearable weight of grief and fear.
• You have cried out, wondering why I did not stop the terror, why I did not intervene.

Tafalti Sheker, I have attached Myself to falsehood.
• You have wondered if My promises of protection were hollow, and I have not given you easy answers.
• I have allowed the darkness to persist, and you feel as though the light is too far away.
• You ask where I am in this pain, and I seem distant.

Kashiti Oref, I have hardened My heart.
• I let you feel as though I have turned away from you, like Pharaoh hardening his heart.
• I have let you question My presence, wondering why I did not soften the hearts of those who seek your destruction.
• You feel the weight of anger and sorrow, and I seem silent in your suffering.

Rashati, I have been wicked.
• You feel as though I have abandoned you in your darkest hour.
• You ask Me why this happened, and I have not shown you the path forward.
• You long for justice, for peace, for safety — and it feels out of reach.

Shichati, I have corrupted.
• I let the world fall into violence and chaos, and you are left to pick up the pieces.
• I let you suffer in ways you did not deserve, and you are left to rebuild in the aftermath.
• I have allowed the questions of why, why this suffering, to remain unanswered.

Ta’iti, I have strayed.
• I let you feel distant from Me when you needed Me most.
• You have asked, “Where was God?” and I have not given you an easy answer.
• I have let you feel abandoned, and I have not explained why the pain remains.

Titani, I let you stray.
• I let you lose faith in the midst of suffering, and I did not guide you back easily.
• I have let you cry out to Me, and the answers have not come swiftly.
• Yet I am still with you, even in this, even in your anger, in your grief, and in your silence.

But, I am still here, waiting to walk with you, even in the places where the light feels far away. Yes, I have wronged you. But I am always here and when you’re ready, we can begin the long road forward — reordering the cosmic and the earthly chaos, partners, together, to make it right.