This horse can win any race, as long as you shout ‘Boruch Sheim!’ when you approach each jump,” the trainer tells the new jockey. Ignoring the advice, the rider starts the race. Then the horse crashes right through the first two hurdles. On the third jump, the jockey whispers an embarrassed “boruch sheim.” Again the horse doesn’t jump.

Afraid of losing, the jockey finally yells “Boruch Sheim!” just before the fourth hurdle, and the horse sails over it. Relieved, the jockey keeps yelling and wins.

“What happened?” the trainer asks. “You had me scared for a minute.”

“It’s the darn horse. He must be deaf.”

“He’s not deaf,” the trainer says. “Blind, yes, but not deaf.”

 Yom Kippur: Why We Say Boruch Sheim Aloud

Before the High Holidays, my Rabbi, uncles, and I get together to prepare some speeches. As always, we brainstorm and swap sermons, stories, and jokes. One year, we had a real treat. My uncle, Rabbi Sholom Ben Hecht, took out some notes from his archives — cryptic notes by my late grandfather Rabbi Jacob J. Hecht, of blessed memory, on the topic of Yom Kippur. We studied them and tried to decipher their meaning. I am not sure if we grasped every detail. However, we came up with this.

In the Yom Kippur liturgy, one prayer stands out,ringing in our ears: the prayer of “Boruch sheim kevod malchuso l’olam va’ed,”[1] which means, “Blessed be the name of His glorious kingdom forever and ever.”

Throughout the year, it is recited at least three or four times daily, immediately following the recitation of the first passage of the Shema. However, it is done in an undertone,[2] in contrast to Yom Kippur, when it is said aloud.[3] Also, at the end of Yom Kippur, it is recited aloud three times consecutively,[4] immediately before the shofar blowing.[5]

A few questions come to mind.

1) Why do we recite Boruch Sheim immediately after the Shema, and (all year round) in an undertone?

2) Why do we say it aloud on Yom Kippur, and

3) Why three times at its conclusion?

Yaakov
There are three historical reasons for its recital. First, cited in the Code of Jewish Law,[6] is that before his passing, the Patriarch Yaakov assembled all of his children before him on his death bed. He wanted to reveal the time of Moshiach’s arrival. However, something strange happened. The Shechinah disappeared. This was enough for Yaakov to ask: perhaps someone among you is a non-believer? They all answered in unison, “Hear, O’ Israel,”[7] i.e., listen, our father, Israel (Yaakov was also known as Israel), “G‑d is our G‑d, G‑d is one,” i.e., just as you have only one G‑d in your heart, we too have only one G‑d. Yaakov affirmed this unity of G‑d by saying, “boruch sheim…”

Since, however, this term of “boruch sheim” was not included in the Written Torah, we do not say it aloud, but in an undertone. Why, then, on Yom Kippur, do we say it aloud?

Angels
The second reason cited[8] is that when Moses went up to heaven, he heard the angels saying the prayer, “Boruch Sheim,” and brought down this prayer and then gave it to the Jews. He commanded them to say it quietly. This can be understood through the following parable: A man stole a precious jewel from the king’s palace. He gave it to his wife. He told her she could wear it anytime she wanted, however, with one condition — she may only wear it at home in secrecy. Therefore, all year round, one recites “Boruch Sheim” in an undertone, besides on Yom Kippur. Since, on Yom Kippur we are all compared to the angels by not eating or drinking and wearing white clothing, we, then, may declare it loudly and openly.

However, it seems too easy — simply because we fast and wear white clothing,[9] we have a right to sing the praises of the angels? Doesn’t it demand some work and conditioning?

Moses
There is also a third reason: when Moses was standing on Sinai, G‑d called out to the Jews “Shema Yisroel” (Hear O’ Israelites — Jews). When the people heard this, they declared “G‑d is our G‑d, G‑d is one.”

Moses, seeing his disciples — the entire nation — responding with this resounding response, was moved to acknowledge “Boruch sheim.”

A general rule in Torah is that all interpretations on one verse or topic, not only cannot contradict each other, but rather they must compliment one another. We can appreciate how all these interpretations weave into one single thread by further elaboration of the above question.

On Yom Kippur, we are told to say the “Boruch Sheim” aloud since we are likened to angels. However, we know we are not angels. We are flesh-and-blood human beings. How, then, do we have the right to sing the praises of the angels?

To answer this, we are told that there must be two prerequisites:

1) We must emulate Yaakov: we must teach our children about the unity of G‑d, how G‑d exists, and how He is everywhere, how G‑d takes each and every one of us out of our personal Egypt and exile, and so, too, G‑d will take us, as a nation, out of this Egypt and exile. Our children should be able to pronounce, at any given moment, the “Shema Yisroel.”[10]

2) We must emulate Moses: we should not suffice with teaching our own children[11] (as Yaakov did). We must also teach our friends and neighbors. They, too, must know about “Shema Yisroel” and how G‑d loves each and every one of us, how He feels our pains and joys, and how He can bring about redemption with the blink of an eye.

Three Times
When both our children and neighbors know “Shema Yisroel,” then, and only then, can we call out as angels, “Boruch sheim kevod malchuso l’olam va’ed.”

This perhaps is the reason that the “Boruch Sheim” is recited three times at the conclusion of Yom Kippur. It is a confirmation that one will adhere to the three meanings of boruch sheim: 1) I aspire to be an angel (by not eating or drinking, and wearing white), 2) by teaching my children the meaning of Shema Yisroel, and 3) by teaching my neighbors, as well.

Atonement
In my grandfather’s notes, he says atonement is made up of three words — at-one-ment, which my uncle, Rabbi Shimon Hecht, translated as follows: Yom Kippur reminds us that it is never too late to change our ways, for “at one (mo)ment”, we can do teshuvah and return for good.

When my grandmother, Rebbetzin Chava Hecht, saw my uncles and I sitting and discussing different Torah themes, she began to cry. She said it was really wonderful to see her children and grandchildren sitting together in harmony, studying their father’s teachings.

At that moment, I realized this is truly the meaning of Yom Kippur: On Yom Kippur, G‑d’s children, Jews from all from different backgrounds, with different political opinions and cultural preferences, come together in harmony, praying, singing, and listening to teachings from the Torah of their Father in Heaven. No doubt G‑d is crying tears of joy — showering down with it blessings for all of us for a sweet and blessed new year.

My grandmother concluded, “Don’t wait until next Yom Kippur. Please do it more often.”

A Story[12]
Everyone knew Rabbi Yossi Tevel as a friendly, no-nonsense kind of person, with a huge smile and a big sense of humor.

One of the things Rabbi Tevel worked at was visiting Jewish prisoners in dozens of jails throughout New York state. A prison administrator once said, “When Rabbi Tevel comes, his happiness, energy, and warmth, just sweep us all away!”

But there was one institution that he could not get permission to visit. The problem was not from the prison. It was from the chaplain, a Rabbi by the name of Metzger. He fought against Rabbi Tevel tooth and nail.

He once told Yossel directly, “I will NEVER let you into my prison!”

But Rabbi Tevel did not give up. Time and again he would call the rabbi and ask permission to visit the prison, only to be refused all over again. This went on for years.

Finally one year, shortly before Pesach, his efforts paid off. In a moment of “weakness” the rabbi agreed to give out hand-baked Shmurah Matzah to the prisoners, if Rabbi Tevel would send it to him. But he absolutely refused to let Rabbi Tevel bring the Matzah to the prison, or even to bring the Matzah personally to him.

“You can send it to me with UPS,” the rabbi said.

Rabbi Tevel agreed.

The next day the rabbi heard a knock at the door. When he asked who it was, a voice answered, “UPS.”

The rabbi opened the door and was shocked to see Rabbi Tevel standing there with a big grin on his face. At first the rabbi was fuming. But Rabbi Tevel laughed. “I just wanted to show you that the bogeyman isn’t so scary after all.”

They got into a short conversation. Rabbi Tevel thanked the rabbi many times for agreeing to distribute the Matzah. When he left, he felt that the rabbi’s hostile attitude had softened a little.

A few weeks later, Rabbi Tevel called once again with another request. This time he wanted to know if he could come to cheer up the prisoners on Lag B’Omer.

To his surprise, the rabbi agreed. This was the first time that he would allow Rabbi Tevel to visit the prison. Rabbi Tevel said he would like to bring along some friends and yeshiva students to make a lively, festive atmosphere.

“As long as it’s not too many,” the rabbi replied cautiously.

Rabbi Tevel was in seventh heaven. He had finally been able to break the barrier.

On Lag B’Omer, Yossel went with a group of bochurim to the prison, with a big tape recorder and lots of simchah. First they spread out lots of food. Prisoners appreciate food very much. Whatever they didn’t eat on the spot, was divided and set aside for later.

Then everyone put on tefillin. A few words were said about Lag B’Omer, and then the music began. Soon all the inmates were dancing. Rabbi Metzger stood off to the side and watched.

Rabbi Tevel went over the rabbi and watched the happy scene for a few moments. Then he said, “Rabbi, I would like to suggest that you put on tefillin.”

The rabbi was stunned. “Your chutzpah has no limit!” he replied angrily.

But Yossel felt that there was a hint of a smile behind the rabbi’s words. He decided the time was ripe. He pushed up the rabbi’s sleeve and began putting the tefillin on his arm.

That was too much! “You want to teach me how to put on tefillin,” he snapped. “I know better than you!”

He took the tefillin and began to wind the straps around his arm like a veteran. He started to say Shema Yisroel, and suddenly began to weep uncontrollably.

It took him 20 minutes to finish saying the Shema. When he took off the tefillin, he looked upwards and cried: “Tatte, zeit mir moichel! (Father, forgive me!)”

He asked Rabbi Yossel to sit down, and told him the following story.

His grandfather, a distinguished Rav in Germany, was the dearest thing to him in his life. When the Nazis came to power, he had to watch as they degraded and humiliated his Zeide in the most brutal fashion. They draped the skin of a pig over him and made him crawl through the streets as they laughed and mocked the rabbi with the long white beard.

The little boy swore that he would take revenge… not on the Nazis, but on G‑d.

He survived the war, and immigrated to the United States. His heart was filled with anger. He did not forget his desire to avenge the honor of his beloved grandfather.

How did he do this? He became a rabbi, and with confidence of his congregants, he did everything he could to spite Hashem. He married Jews and gentiles. He made parties on Yom Kippur, and barbecues on Tisha B’Av. All to take revenge on the A‑lMighty.

He told Yossel, “When I heard that Chabad Chassidim wanted to visit the prison, I began to tremble with an inner fear. I knew that if Chabad was going to come, anything opposing G‑dliness would simply melt. I had no choice but to fight you. But your warmth and persistence managed to win me over.

He concluded with emotion, “I know now that I must return to G‑d, and I beg Him to forgive me!”

Two weeks later, Rabbi Tevel got a phone call. “Rabbi, this is the son of Rabbi Metzger the prison chaplain. I am sorry to inform you that my father passed away.”

“I’d like to tell you that during his final two weeks he spoke about nothing but you and how you put on tefillin with him. We realize that you were very important to him, and we would be honored if you would come to his funeral, and say a few words.”

Action: Recite the Shema and Boruch Sheim with your children daily, then recite it with a neighbor.