As fulfilling as it was to engage in Shavuot programs, a lot weighs on me. With COVID-19 continuing to ravage Black communities and racist violence all over the news, I almost feel like it’s Yom Kippur instead – the time when Jews are supposed to be most aware of their own mortality.
This week, I tell a friend I’d love to chat but actually I have to run Yom Kippur services are starting soon and I’ve got to repent for my sins before the gates are closed. She laughs. “Well, you’re gay, so you’ve definitely got a lot of repenting to do.”
During the 10 days of repentance and especially on Yom Kippur, we struggle with ourselves, shedding our flaws and the parts of our spirit that detract from our holiness.
We want you to come to High Holiday services, but we want you to come back, too -- when it’s less crowded and when we can welcome you and show you what we’re all about.
I don’t want to raise my children in a home with yelling. And yet, when I slip in a way that’s human and understandable, I fail both myself and my children.
At recent years’ Days of Awe services, I could swear I saw index fingers popping out all over the place – fingers of accusation, not of ownership or responsibility.
On Rosh HaShanah it is written; on Yom Kippur it is sealed. But there’s an awful lot that happens in the middle.
The real preparation for the upcoming Days of Awe is the work I need to put into myself. To be the best model for my congregants, I must practice what I preach.
Our daughter-in-law gave birth to our first grandchild. A couple of months later, On the Chocolate Trail was published. Each whispers of mortality and immortality.