For a Sweet New Year

 As the sun sets this evening my family will welcome a new Jewish Year, 5772 in the Hebrew Calendar. I don’t want to profess to be a Torah scholar (although I am learning more daily at the JCC), so I researched the following explanation on line. (About.com/Judaism - no commentary on my sources, I was looking for simple and straightforward.) Rosh Hashanah, Together with Yom Kippur (next week), are known as the Yamin Nora' im, translated as Days of Awe, or more commonly known, the High Holy Days. Jewish tradition teaches that during the High Holy Days God decides who will live and who will die during the coming year. As a result, during Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur (and in the days leading up to them) Jews embark upon the serious task of examining their lives and repenting for any wrongs they have committed during the previous year.

I like to think that I take this process seriously, pretty risky not to. I would certainly think that this "Journey" qualifies as reflection and occasionally repentance. I know that I have asked for your forgiveness on multiple occasions, and privately I ask for a divine pass more frequently (not taking any chances with the one who sees all). It's not that I think I "sin" more than the average person, but if I had to be judged against the biblical model, my time in Temple will be well spent. I do believe in the power of goodness over evil, and take comfort in knowing that my heart is one of good intention and good deeds, but sometimes my brain or my mouth react before my heart has a chance to protect me. I also believe that if g-d lives within us, then it is most important that I be my own judge.  If I can make peace with my actions or my thoughts, then I can face the New Year with a clear conscience and a peaceful soul. I don't believe that perfection is expected, that would leave no room for improvement; I think we should strive to be the best version of ourselves, flaws and all.

Tomorrow when I put on my stockings (no bare legs in Temple), I will take stock in the year behind me and hope for another good one ahead. I will take my seat under the stained glass dome at roughly 10 am; the Rabbi and the much more dedicated arrive many hours before. This time gap will prevent me from sitting in the soft sanctuary seats (only my parents used to get there early enough) and I will take my seat in the folding chairs in the rear. Oddly enough, Temple seems to be the only place where my "people" obey the "no saving seats" rule. Really, this is serious business, no one taking any chances in there. Occasionally, there is a prayer book, or Tallis bag, maybe a Tory Burch clutch, left casually on the seat next to a spouse waiting for their other-half who hasn't arrived; this is acceptable, but unspoken. It's the blatant row of empties that will get you scolded by the ushers (and they are obviously "you know who's" messengers). I seem to always end up in the same region of the folding chairs, surrounded by the other latecomers, mostly my friends. On my approach to Temple's answer to the “bleacher seats”, I scan the crowd looking for my spot. My time here should be focused on prayer and my location should be irrelevant, but we all know that's not the case. There's a lot of unintended down time (sometimes I finish my silent prayer early) and it is often filled with whispered conversations with my neighbors (I will not call out the other participants) until Jeffrey "shushes" me or I get a shameful look from a less irreverent congregant. I don't mean to be disrespectful, and I do love the service, but the High Holy Days are ripe with things to talk about and forgiveness is built in to the system. After all these years I have managed to behave slightly better and have developed a method of non-verbal communication with other offenders; there are looks and eyebrows raises that can speak volumes. On a good year, Temple can almost be too much stimulation for a girl like me, always something to look at with people moving in and out of view at all times. Traditionally it's a good fashion show, but the weather can have a disastrous effect if the new outfit is not suited for the day’s weather. I made this mistake many, many years ago when a new wool suit was unveiled regardless of the Indian summer temperature, and I was called out by a male friend. It has scarred me to this day, and my choice for tomorrow's garment (which will require some closet time today) will definitely be weather appropriate. Others are not as concerned and thus the abundance of eye candy to keep me entertained (I get the feeling that this paragraph is in direct conflict with my previous desires to be a good person, but honesty is virtuous too). I love the women who do the hat thing (however, not when they sit in front of me), the lady answer to the traditional male yarmulke.  It’s not quite the "Kentucky Derby”, but some of them are interesting. The modern woman wears a lady yarmulke, lacy or pastel colors bobby-pinned discreetly to their hair; a nod to feminism I like, but not one I've ever entertained (except for the few minutes required during the boys Bar Mitzvahs). The last thing I need is another item to coordinate with my outfit. The men have it relatively easy, Jeffrey will put on the same suit he would any other day, and I will get tie selection approval. Their only accessory is the Tallis worn draped over their shoulders and the usually mother needlepointed bag they carry it in. There are a few standouts with brightly colored bands, but generally they are all similar and don't need much commentary. When I was little I would sit next to my father and make elaborate braids with the Tallis strings (not sure if that's sacrilegious) and I have to admit, it still happens occasionally with Jeffrey's.

When I was in high school (and admittedly maybe for many years after) I would join the exodus from the sanctuary when the rabbi casually lets you know it's time to set aside your prayer books. This indicates it's time for the sermon; for the teenagers and twenty-something's this is time to gather in the hallways and bathrooms (outside if it's good weather) and socialize. My own children used to sneak off to a nearby house of a friend and play video games, the resident was also on temple recess. Nowadays, the Rabbi’s thoughts are one of my favorite parts of the day. My spiritual leader is a relatable family man when he’s not on the Bimah (temple stage) and his words are both reflective and inspirational. He speaks to the fears and hopes of our community and the world, sprinkled with humorous anecdotes or his own life experiences. It usually leaves me feeling especially moved or empowered, although sometimes I get lost in my own thoughts and miss a few minutes until a chuckle from the crowd snaps me back to reality. I often wonder how long it takes him to write the powerful sermons of the High Holiday season; is it like blogging; writing, editing, reading aloud? Does he practice with his family or colleagues (sometimes I do make Jeffrey listen to my words before you see them), or do we all hear them for the first time together? I'm curious if there is a moment when he decides on a topic; if he wakes up one August or September morning inspired or if it is carefully researched or discussed in a secret Rabbi forum? The nice part is, if I really wanted the answer, I know he would be more than willing to talk to about it, and I would be more than comfortable asking. My childhood Rabbi, same Temple but he retired, was a more formidable figure. He spoke in bellows and whispers during his sermons, sprinkled with Hebrew text and ominous warnings; honestly he scared me a little. In person he was warm and “Rabbi-like”, but it felt like he was one step away from g-d and I was always nervous in his presence. Tomorrow’s service will conclude with my favorite prayers still sung in the traditional tunes (many synagogues have switched it up a bit with popular rhythms). I know them by heart and can still hear my father’s voice singing next to me (he had a beautiful one). I will be crying when I leave; I think I miss him most and see him clearest in those walls.

Melancholy will be replaced with hugging, kissing and New Year’s wishes as I exit to the parking lot. If it’s nice weather there will be extended visitation with friends and family on the way to our cars. If it’s raining (which is predicted for tomorrow) it will be a fast departure; Jewish hair does not do chatting in the rain, even on the holiest of days. After that, it’s time to eat again at my brother and sister-in-laws house followed by a late afternoon stopover at a friend’s holiday table. It will be a day filled with prayer, good food and people I love.

On Rosh Hashanah it is customary to greet people with "L'Shanah Tovah," translated as "For a Good Year.” This is my hope for all of you who have been with me for the last 43 entries and for everyone else I have or will share my life with. I am blessed to have lived a good life this year and hope to be judged for the fullness of my heart and my desire to give the same to others. I will savor the flavors of apples and honey to symbolize my wish for a "sweet" year ahead on my Journey2Fifty.

*Before I leave you, I ask for one parting favor. I just got off the phone with a close friend of over 20 years whose husband is battling cancer. A finer man with a kinder heart you would be hard-pressed to find. He is spending this holiday back in the hospital and part of me will be there with him. Whether you’ll be in Temple tomorrow or just having an ordinary day, take a moment for me, and say a prayer for my friend HJS; may he and those who love him be granted health and happiness in the coming year.

Talk to you on Saturday, I’ll be with “you know who” until then, making peace and eating brisket.