Forty-two years ago, there was a family in Bnei Brak. They were a loving family with many children, all of them doing well, except for one child, Avrami. Avrami was struggling. At home, in school, with his friends and with his teachers. Erev Pesach could be a tense time in many homes, and this household was no exception. There was some argument over something silly, but it quickly escalated. Avrami got upset, really upset, turned to his family and said, “That’s it. I’m done!” He quickly packed a bag and stormed out of the house.
The family assumed he’d be back after an hour or two, but they were wrong. The rest of the day flew by, showers, setting the table, naps for the young children, all with an eye to the door, but Avrami did not return. Throughout the day, the parents kept looking out the window to see if maybe Avrami was outside. He wasn’t.
With a heavy heart, Avrami’s family went to shul Pesach night. They davened at the Lederman shul where the rabbis was Rav Yaakov Kanievsky, otherwise known as the Steipler, one of the great Torah leaders of his time. After davening, the father went to wish the Steipler ‘a good Yom Tov,’ and then told him what was going on with Avrami. “What should I do?” asked the concerned father. “Techakeh, wait,” the Steipler. “Just wait.”
The family came home, the table was set, the children were hungry, but the father told them what the Steipler had instructed him to do, and so they waited. An hour went by, two hours went by. They could hear their neighbors singing Hallel already. But the family just waited.
Finally, as it was getting close to midnight, the father decided he would go visit the Steipler and ask him what to do. He opened the door and there, standing in the doorway was Avrami. Looking sheepish, with tears dripping down his cheeks. Without any words, he walked into the home.
Avrami came in, took a look around and was shocked. His siblings were reading on the couch, sitting on the floor playing games. He looked at the table, and it was perfectly set, not a drop of wine in the cups.
“You waited for me?” asked Avrami. “I can’t believe you waited.”
“Of course, we waited for you,” said his father, as they embraced. And Avrami never looked back.
This is the Pesach story. G-d promised Avraham that the land of Israel would be theirs and that He would live lovingly with his children. But we ran away. We fought with our brothers, selling one of them down as a slave. We moved to Egypt where we adopted their pagan customs and lost all connection to our Father in Heaven. And yet, as Rashi writes, we call Pesach the ‘night of watching,’ as it represents G-d, who was watching and waiting for the Jewish People to turn things around, to realize that they strayed, to come back home. Until we did.
And when we did, G-d embraced us. He showed us that He was waiting all this time. He demonstrated to us that He loves no matter how far we stray. (Heard from Rabbi Yechiel Spero)
This story of Avrami, the story of Pesach, was the story of the Jewish People throughout all of history; we would turn away and eventually we would come back home. And each time, G-d would be waiting for our knock, waiting for us at the door, to welcome us back with open arms.
But today, in Shir Hashirim, we read of a different reality. Today in Shir Hashirim, we read how our loving Father in heaven doesn’t just wait for us to knock at his door, sometimes he comes knocking on our door.
In 1956, Rabbi Yosef Soloveitchik delivered a speech built around a few verses from Shir Hashirim. In one of the most evocative scenes, the male lover, a representation of G-d, comes knocking on the door of his maiden, representing the Jewish People. Kol dodi dofeik.
Rav Soloveitchik suggested that in 1956, after two thousand years of G-d waiting for us to knock on His door, started knocking on ours. Rav Soloveitchik described six “knocks,” six new historic realities that were so clearly Hashem knocking our collective door, letting us know how badly He wants to connect with us.
There was the political knock, how the Western Powers and the Soviet Union somehow both agreed to vote on the partition plan.
There was the military knock, how Israel defeated six Arab armies in the War of Independence.
There was the theological knock, how Christians could no longer point to the Jewish People being in exile as a proof of G-d rejecting us.
There was the psychological knock, how the State of Israel injected pride into the Jewish psyche.
There was an ethical knock, how self-defense became a renewed value. Thanks to the IDF, Jewish blood was no longer free.
And finally, there was a practical knock in that every Jew now had a place to flee.
These knocks were G-d’s way of saying, I want you, please let me into your life. Let’s reunite. Let’s start again. I am tired of waiting for you to come to me; I’m here and I miss you. 1956, Rav Soloveitchik was saying, was the dawn of a new era for the Jewish People. All we had to do was listen, hear Him, get up from our slumber, and let Him in to our lives.
Seventy years have passed since that talk. In that time, some of those knocks have become muffled, but others have only gotten louder.
For example, in 1956, when Rav Soloveitchik gave this talk there were approximately 1 million Jews living in Israel. Today there are roughly 8 million. In 1956, 50,000 Jews from Arab states made Aliyah to escape persecution. Since October 7th, with rockets raining down, over 50,000 Jews made Aliyah, not to run away from anything, but because they wanted to come home. The number of Arab countries who are at peace with Israel, officially or unofficially, is staggering. Imagine telling Rav Soloveitchik in 1956, that Jordan, Egypt, and Saudi Arabia would be working with Israel to fight a common foe. The message that Jewish blood is not cheap, and the military knock –You’d have to deaf and blind to not feel the power of this G-dly knock.
If I were to tell my great-great-grandfather that there was a Jewish army, he would say, “Oh, Mashiach came.”
If I were to tell my great-grandfather that there was a State of Israel, he would say, “Oh, Mashiach came.”
If I were to tell my grandfather that Israel was decimating its Arab foes and that Israel was the strongest most sophisticated army in the region, he would say, “Oh, Mashiach came.”
These are not normal times! I know I say it often, but how can I stop saying it? G-d is not just knocking on our door; those are the sounds of a battering ram smashing the door to smithereens. We are living through the greatest era in Jewish history in at least 2500 years. And I’ll keep on saying it until it sinks in. Maybe it has sunk in for some of you, but for me, I know it, but I still don’t feel the way I should.
For 2500 years, no matter how assimilated we became, no matter how far we strayed, G-d waited for our knock at the door. But in 2026, G-d is knocking our doors, G-d is banging away, hoping that we finally learn and that we finally truly believe how precious we are to Him and how much He loves us. Let’s open the door and let Him in.