Holy Days

Holy Days Mandala

I was raised Roman Catholic. This means, that religion aside, I enjoy ritual. Maybe 'enjoy' is not the right word. I should say rituals tap into a part of me that goes untouched through the normal course of events.

When I left the Catholic Church, as a teenager, it wasn't a matter of drifting away. I had attended with belief and purpose, and I left with belief and purpose. But I was young, and I realized after a while, that I felt like an orphan. It was as though the Church was holding God captive, and without going into a Catholic Church, I couldn't get to Him (as God was called in that time of my life).
I grew out of those beliefs, of course, and even though my reasons for leaving the church remain, I have fond memories and deeply embedded experiences of the rituals. These days I live by a phrase from Gibran's The Prophet: "My daily life is my temple and my religion". I create my own rituals, alone or with friends.

Then, last week a dear friend gave me a special gift, a ticket for Yom Kippur services in the Kehillah community she attends. I had no idea what to expect except that I had been forewarned that the service would be three hours long. I was quite excited to attend.

Maybe I should mention that I have long suspected that my family, especially on my mother's side, had converted to Catholicism during the Spanish Inquisition, when thousands of Jews were run out of Spain, tortured, or burned. Those who missed out on one of those options, converted to Roman Catholicism. So part of attending a Jewish service was a way to see what had been taken away. Aside from all that, I have long felt that everyone should celebrate a day of atonement. Let's face it, we all need it.

I found the service to be beautiful, meaningful, moving, and spiritually uplifting. Everything had relevance. And there were candles and historical ritual, a meaningful sermon, and best of all music. The cantor, a beautiful woman with a wonderful voice, smoothly led the congregation through some very complex melodies.

It was not just a time to think about forgiving ourselves but also a time of contemplating the very nature of forgiveness. It was also a time for asking about the nature of the wrongs we commit. How about the failure to stand up for what we believe, is that a wrong against our self or against our community? And if we fail to give words of support to a colleague or a loved one, is that person the only one diminished?

I came away asking myself those kinds of questions. And the experience made me realize that there are many ways to be spiritually connected to the community we live in. Spiritual practice, in fact, is not just about how we feel about God, it's about the energy we put out into the place where we live. It doesn't happen on Sunday or Saturday or any other specific day of the year. Every day is a holy day if we make it that.

I am grateful to my friend, and to the Kehilla community for making this Yom Kippur a special event in my life.