Trick seals

 So last night, after we finished ne'ilah, I stuck around, as did a huge chunk of men, in order to daven Ma'ariv.

The question people often ask is "why daven ma'ariv in which I ask for forgiveness during my Amidah service? Did I just finish asking forgiveness? What sins could I possibly have done in the 3 and a half minutes between the joyous proclamation of "Next year in Jerusalem" and the saying of my silent prayer?

And, I'm sure, many wise and sage people have written a lot answering this question. I won't try.

But I think that the question is wrong. Shouldn't we be asking, "how dare we ask for forgiveness?" I mean, the gates are closed. The verdict is sealed. What standing do we have once the king has left the field? Yes, yes, some understand that the verdict is not sealed until the end of the Sukkot holiday but we ask for forgiveness the day after that also! So why do we even try? While, sure, we should focus on doing mitzvot, so as to build a case for ourselves next year, why ask for forgiveness if it is all about Yom Kippur and the sealing us in the book of life (or otherwise, God forbid)?

I recall as a youth, having an interest in being fancy. My parents indulged me and I got a calligraphy set. I wasn't horrible at it but there lack situations in which that skill is called for in the modern world. Shopping lists and poems about eating someone else's fruit, hastily scribbled on the back of an envelope do not require calligraphic skill. I also got a wax imprinting kit which, while interesting, was also impractical. I tend to use envelopes with adhesive already applied.

The wax kit included a colorful candle and a stamp with my initials. I don't actually remember if it it had my initials but the idea is that I could melt some wax and imprint on the still soft stuff some symbol that represented me. In the olden days, this was used to close messages and ensure that they were not read by the messenger. I cite Hamlet for this. Somewhere in the act 4 or 5 range. 

But the seal did not always mean "closed." It meant "official." And that's the difference.

God seals his verdict and then closes the book and the gates. He withdraws from the field to his courtyard within. And what are we left with? The possibility of sinning and no ability to do anything about it because things are sealed and shut?

No. Things were just decided and stamped by an official at that moment. The seal has been affixed. But if we learn anything from the story of Purim (other than the importance of sending me candy) it is that once a royal proclamation has been given the king's seal, other proclamations can still be issued! Can God undo the royal verdict given last evening? No one is asking him to. We are asking that he issue a new proclamation today, and another tomorrow.

Yes, the gates are closed but in our communal Modim prayer, we ask that (and I'm lifting this from the Sefaria translation)

"so may You always keep us alive and sustain us, and gather our exiles to the Courtyards of Your Sanctuary to observe Your statutes, and to do Your will, and to serve You wholeheartedly,"

We have to knock on the door. We have to be brought in. But nothing is locked -- all we have to do is ask. On Yom Kippur, there is a sense in the talmud that the day effects a forgiveness even if we don't ask but the rest of the year, we have to make a bit more effort. That's OK -- we got this.

So don't be daunted by the "seal." It looks fancy, and it has an important imprint on it. But it isn't the end all and be all and we need to stand at the gate, three times each weekday, and insist on being let in, demanding that we be given a chance to inspire a new verdict that is just as powerful.

In a sense, everyday is Yom Kippur. The gates are never fully closed and the verdict is never shut. Let's take advantage of the king's willingness to sign off on a merciful verdict on each and every day.