G-d King, who sits on the Throne of Mercy, governs with kindness forgives the iniquities of His people. He removes them one by one, increasing forgiveness to sinners, and pardon to transgressors. Acting charitably with all who are of flesh and spirit; not according to their wickedness does He repay them… Repeated Refrain from Slichos

Yom Kippur is a moving experience, literally a moving experience. One of the main goals and holy accomplishments of the day is to move HASHEM from the KISEI’ HaDin to the KISEI’ Shel Rachamim” – from the Throne of Judgment to the Throne of Mercy. That can make all the difference. How is that done? That is the question?

One year a nice fellow, Larry, asked me a very sincere and serious question a few days before Yom Kippur. He wanted to know what benefit there was to going through this exercise of seeming futility. Every year on Yom Kippur we beg forgiveness and we bang our chests with even genuine regret and then within a few days we’re back to the same business as if Yom Kippur never happened.

I told him that I hear the question loud and clear and I admire his brutal self-honesty. I had the same question almost exactly a year earlier, when Erev Yom Kippur I wrote out on a tall yellow legal pad, a long laundry list of missteps, corrections to be made, and real faults to study and ask forgiveness about on Yom Kippur.

As the services started a tall white piece of paper fell out of my Yom Kippur Machzor. I picked it up immediately. I didn’t want anyone to get even a quick glance at my list. I had written my list on a yellow legal pad. My first thought was, “Hay maybe I’ve been forgiven for my sins!”

When I checked the date, I realized that this paper was from a few years earlier and there were all the same items in almost the exact same order. I understood Larry’s question very well and I searched for an answer. It was nearby.

I remembered something that had happened that day on the subway. A tough looking youth with his baseball cap cocked to the side strutted onto the crowded train heading downtown. After the doors were secure and closed the little fellow pulled out a switchblade and did something I had never seen anybody do ever before. He etched onto the plexy-glass window of the subway doors his initials.

Here we were in broad daylight, in a public setting, and he was defiling public property. I was aghast. I stood right next to him and glared with righteous indignation. (When I recalled the story to my wife told me alarmingly, “Label he had a knife!”)

In one moment, the tough guy looked up at me and we momentarily locked eyes. He paused and put his knife away slowly. Then to my amazement, the same rugged fellow, after holding his eyes to the floor for a few seconds, licked his finger and then tried to erase the impression his knife had etched moments earlier into the subway doors. His efforts were futile.

Something changed, though. It was the way I felt about him. Seconds ago, I would, if I could, slam him, crush his bones. I was that outraged. Then seeing his momentary shame and even feeble attempt to undo what he had done made me feel extremely sorry for him.

I realized that he is a pathetic soul. He doesn’t mean to be bad. He is crying out for attention. He probably comes home to an empty house and gets zero recognition. He needs to carve his initials here to show he exists. I wanted to adopt him and show him a better life. I saw hope in his temporary shame.

I told Larry, “That is the answer to yours and my question. When we bang on our hearts on Yom Kippur, we are like that kid trying feebly to erase, but the damage is done. Something dramatic happens, something that saves the day and us. HASHEM is moved from the Throne of Judgment to the Throne of Mercy. That is what makes the day of Yom Kippur a truly moving experience.