Yom Kippur

I made 2 meaningful revelations this Yom Kippur. 

For many years, I had believed that on this holy day - the Day of Atonement, which was a 24-hour period ending last night at sundown  - my role was to 1 - Admit to sins of the past year and 2 - Through prayer, ask for G-d's forgiveness. 

I'm not adverse to taking a good, hard look at myself, but I am adverse to asking for G-d's forgiveness.  Why, you ask?  It's rather simple:  I don't think I believe in G-d. 

Since I didn't want my status as a non-believer to make me feel like I was a bad Jew - or more pleasantly stated a non-observant Jew - at Yom Kippur, I'd do my best to follow the general rule of the holiday by fasting, year after year, while skipping the parts I wasn't as comfortable with.  And even though I kind of came to terms with my own style of Judaism, I always felt a tinge of guilt in the fact that on Yom Kippur, I'd do some reflecting, some fasting, but no praying.

It wasn't until my 21 year- old daughter Amy asked my mom and me what the connection is between fasting and repenting, that I had given this struggle of mine any thought.

Good question, I said, realizing that after all these years of exposure to the rituals, culture and traditions of the religion, I really had no idea. 

"Let's Google it,"  Amy said. 

Rabbis weighed in on the question of the connection between fasting and repenting.  Seems the bottom line is that the essence of Yom Kippur is to make us better people going forward, and this is accomplished with a multi-pronged process that takes a full day's worth of energy and commitment.  

First, we are to think about our wrongful words, thoughts and actions over the past year - not superfluously, but with our heart and soul.  This exercise will be further intensified if simultaneously practicing self-denial, such as fasting from food and drink. Experiencing the discomfort of hunger as a symbol of our commitment to follow through on our personal improvement plan will create a far more effective partnership in the mission to create a better world, person by person.   

   

This was the first revelation:  that in an effort to avoid prayer, I glossed over my own behavior and role in society, past and future, thereby gypping myself of the true intention of the holiday.  In other words, I fasted, but that was about it.  

The second revelation became clear when it was my mom's turn to answer the question about the connection between fasting and repenting.  She said her usual couple of words, packed with punch. The reason we fast and repent together is because "it's tradition."      

While I love the tradition of family gatherings, lox and bagels, and playing Jewish geography, I always feel distressed when the tradition calls on the role of prayer which automatically brings G-d into the equation. 

Years ago, in desperate times, with medical intervention failing, I had nothing else to do but pray for my stepson Matthew during his battle with cancer.  I was told by others who knew of  my issue that it'd be better to pray JUST IN CASE, so I did. I also added an apology in my prayers for not believing, JUST IN CASE. 

These prayers produced nothing.  The fact that I prayed, day after day, along with lots of others from every religion imaginable also praying, day after day, further confirmed my skepticism in prayer.  Why did we all do it and for so long and with such heart, for our cries for help to go unanswered?   

What is the point of prayer if not to protect our children, to heal the sick, to keep us whole?  Is there anyone listening and able to do anything, on the other end?  How could G-d or any higher power have let this happen to such a good boy? 

Once Matthew passed, my potential openness to prayer dissolved for years, but this Yom Kippur as I gave it another try, I realized the second revelation.  I'm still not sure what the purpose is of prayer, whether there is a G-d listening or how exactly I feel about all of this, but I am now aware that I will always have a complicated and forever evolving relationship with Judaism.

I am at peace with that.  It is better, for me, than not having a relationship at all.