Reflections on “The Days of Awe”

I’m struggling to find a topic for this monthly blog post. With the election just weeks away, I’m in no way tempted to head down a political rabbit hole. Similarly, the two recent jaw-dropping hurricanes, Helene and Milton (still in force), speak for themselves, without comment from me. 

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According to the Jewish calendar, we are in the latter phase of the ten-day cycle of “The Days of Awe,” which began with welcoming the Jewish New Year––Rosh Hashana––and concludes at sunset on October 12, with a twenty-four-hour Day of Atonement, known in Hebrew as Yom Kippur. 

This season, my immediate family did not gather for Rosh Hashanah. I could list the reasons offered by one or another of us, but to what end? Last Sunday evening, I grieved as I looked around the empty places at the dining room table. Still, my partner and I lit the candles, recited the traditional prayer in Hebrew, and went through the motions of dipping apple slices into a spread of honey, to symbolize wishes for a sweet new year ahead. Instead, with each slice, we announced an intention we hoped to adhere to in the year ahead.

I’ve always enjoyed the sound of the phrase “The Days of Awe.” It refers to the 10-day cycle beginning with a two-day Rosh Hashanah celebration to welcome the Jewish New Year, 5785; Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, describes the 24-hour period that marks the conclusion of the traditional High Holidays of the Jewish religion. 

On Yom Kippur, considered by many the holiest day of the Jewish religion, Jews are expected to fast for 24 hours. During that period, the intention is to ask the Lord to forgive one’s sins committed during the past year. “Sins” is a loaded word, to say the least. Unlike Christian religions, Judaism largely limits its focus on such unacceptable behaviors to this brief period. The opportunity invites us to reflect on our past mistakes and to pray. We are also encouraged to perform charitable acts during this 24-hour cycle. To mark the conclusion of both Yom Kippur itself and the ten-day period of the Jewish High Holidays, a celebratory, tasty break-the-fast meal is served. 

It’s the gathering together as a family that I missed the most this year. Under extraordinarily stressful circumstances many years, my parents did the best they could to observe these High Holidays. Mostly, my memories focus not on the family meals with cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents, though they occurred. Nor do I remember prayers spoken at synagogue or what food was served at either end of the High Holiday cycle. 

Instead, what I remember is my excitement at the opportunity to select a new outfit and hat to wear to synagogue on Rosh Hashana. Once we were seated for services in the synagogue, my highly attuned curiosity propelled me to check out the outfits and accessories of the other girls and women in the sanctuary. 

The tradition of attending High Holiday services at synagogue faltered after my father’s untimely death in 1961, when I was almost eleven-years-old. By the time my mother remarried almost three years later, as a teen I had little appetite to be seen at synagogue in the company of this newly configured family. Either I attended services with friends, or not at all.

There is still time for reflection before this year’s Days of Awe completes its cycle. Rather than sins, I’m going to focus on my past mistakes and unacceptable behaviors over the past year. My goal is not to cast shame on myself, but rather to proclaim an intention to change such behaviors and correct identified mistakes in the year ahead. Here’s my list so far:

• I wish to be kinder to those closest to me, to speak in a tone of voice that communicates respect rather than mockery, to curb my tongue at times rather than express comments, aka judgments, aloud. 

• I hope to give more ease to those closest to me, to refrain from too often assuming that their behaviors are an intentional act to hurt my feelings, or to punish me for past injuries I may have caused them. 

• I vow to listen more often, rather than disturb the silence with my opinions and commentaries.

• I intend to perform charitable acts more often for the people in my life who matter most to me––my family, my partner, my friends, my writing community, and my neighbors.

• I hope to exercise these vows, not in a spirit of egotism or vanity, but rather in my continued effort to extend compassion and wholeheartedness to myself as well as to others.