Yes, it's that time of year again. The Jewish High Holy Days. Rosh Hashanah, which is the New Year, was last week, followed this coming weekend by Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. We call these the Days of Awe, days when we are to look inside ourselves and resolve to do better next year. We are to make amends, offer forgiveness, ask for forgiveness, and in general, resolve to be better people.
Maybe it's indicative of my inherent and intransigent habits, but every single year I find myself asking for forgiveness for the same stuff. And they are always as follows:
I will listen more and talk less.
I will not judge well-meaning people. (This includes myself).
I will assume that every individual is doing their best before I get snitty about bad service, slow service, long lines, commercial ineptitude, mommy not hugging me enough, whatever.
I will take better care of my friends and loved ones.
Every year I think, "well, hell, it's only 4 things! I can do THAT!" And every Yom Kippur I am asking forgiveness for all the times in just the last year alone that I didn't do it. Any of it. And then I feel bad--for not being a better person on the one hand, and for single-handedly upping God's recidivism rate year in and year out, on the other.
The other thing I feel bad about on Yom Kippur is that I'm supposed to be approaching the entire affair in a prostrate manner; I should be throwing myself on God's mercy, falling on my sword for having said all those nasty things about other women's horrible shoe choices, and other guys horrible girlfriend choices. I should be doing it the right way, but the truth is, America, that all I can think about on Yom Kippur is FOOD.
As you have guessed, Yom Kippur is a fast day. No eating from sundown the night before till sundown the night of. Even though it is one measly day out of my life, the combination of putting on a nice outfit, sitting in temple, standing in temple, sitting, standing, sitting, standing, standing, standing in temple, and thinking about all the things I need to do better next year (if there IS a next year!), I cannot make it through the day without committing every single one of the Top Five sins I listed for you at the beginning of this entry.
I will listen more and talk less.
Nope. I'm barely listening, I'm so hungry.
I will not judge well-meaning people. (This includes myself).
Why can't I focus? Why can't I pay better attention?! Why am I so ruled by my stomach?
I will assume that every individual is doing their best before I get snitty about bad service, slow service, long lines, commercial ineptitude, mommy not hugging me enough, whatever.
My blood sugar is low, and the next person who looks at me funny is going to be met with a certain lack of Southern charm.
I will take better care of my friends and loved ones.
All I can think about is ME, MY hunger, MY fatigue.
And then it happens: you hit that point of the day when you all of a sudden no longer need food, and in fact feel like you are floating and food would only bring you down. Your prayer is a bit more fervent. You sing with a bit more feeling. You look around you and hope sincerely that everyone else is doing okay and that their upcoming year will be a sweet and happy one. You don't care that your--and their--halitosis is raging. You are just happy to be there, and feeling lucky to have such loving, supportive people with you. And you begin to feel like a better person already...
Short Story Long: 24 hours of insane hunger reminds me that I am fortunate to have food every other day of the year. To Do Better Next Year: Be More Charitable.
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