I used to get dressed up and attend formal services for the High Holidays at our temple. I love temples, I love rabbis, I love most Jewish people, but about five years ago, I started staying home instead. I can’t quiet my mind in a formal congregation. I can’t stop thinking about how much my dress shoes are killing me and that I paid extra for that pain. I can't stop thinking about the kids who take an inappropriate amount of Challah when we gather with everyone to say the motzi in the foyer of the temple. And I definitely can't stop thinking about what to say to the man next to me who is the same man I cut off on the way into the parking lot.
The High Holy Days are about contemplation. We are commanded to think about the
year behind us, the year ahead of us.
Set goals. Forgive
ourselves. Atone for our sins. So the Professor and boys go without me, and I use the gift of quiet time to think and write, and sometimes cook,
depending on who is hosting the holiday dinner.
In between the two holiest days of the year, Rosh Hashanah and Yom
Kippur (eleven days in between), we are commanded to
reach out to people we have hurt or wronged and at least attempt to make things right. I like to keep my accounts current so I am pretty busy all year long texting and calling people, quoting my therapist, trying really hard to not make excuses for my gross behavior, and hopefully, sincerely, squaring up with everyone along the way. I believe I am up to date with all of you. If not, you are
invited to call me on my B.S., please. We have until sundown.
L'Chaim
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