Each In His Own Way

So Yom Kippur just passed, and for maybe the 4th year in a row, I skipped shul.  Yesterday, following YK, I received the obligatory call from my Rabbi friend Yossi, lamenting the fact that I posted on FaceBook I was at Matheson Hammock -- why couldn't I have made it to temple? He was doing his job, of course, and we concluded that he HAD had some positive Jewish effect on Wifey and me -- both Ds seem headed towards preserving our culture and faith. In a few weeks, D1 and her fiance Joey will have dinner with Yossi and family, to begin the process of their traditional Jewish wedding. Yes, Yossi concluded, in his Brooklyn, wise guy way, he had accepted failure with Wifey and me, but the next generation was more important, anyway...

I have tried over the years, I really have. But, alas, I am my father's son. He had religion forced upon him by his immigrant parents -- kosher home, shul on the holidays. His lingering memory of YK was the awful bad breath of the congregants from their fasting...

Later, when I was a boy, he never took us to temple. I remember being about 10, and we drove past a congregation one YK. My Dad pointed out how the parking lot was empty, but the surrounding streets were clogged with double parked cars. No one wanted to be seen driving to temple on YK, but it was ok to drive to within a block...for show. "And the poor goyim whose lawns get messed up have to suffer," as my Dad said.

In college, Dr. Eric and his family took my along to Temple Beth Am, where they were members. His family was from "west of the highway," which meant they were from the poorer 'hood of Beth Am members. I remember being struck by how fashionable the people were who attended. Religion-wise -- the services had zero meaning for me.

Later, I went a few times to Hillel -- one year I think Barry dragged me.  Same thing. I sat, and felt totally out of place.  I gave up totally on going to temple following a really bad experience with a rabbi Wifey and I thought was going to perform our wedding service.  The fellow, who I'll call Mark Kram, since that's his name, totally sucked Wifey and I into the whole thing -- "pre marital counseling" to help insure we'd stay wed, "let me be the third spouse in your marriage" etc... And then a week before he called to say he was offered a free trip to Israel when someone had dropped out of a Federation trip -- see ya! I asked for a replacement, and he said he didn't know of any, but he REALLY, REALLY loved going to Israel -- that was to be his third trip, so we wasn't pahtners after all.

Much later, we met Yossi, and our friendship has meant a lot to me. I DID go to services for years -- one Kol Nidre, the night before YK, I truly did feel a connection with the Big Man, but I think it's because I immersed myself into the really great, creepy hymns that surround that service.

So Wifey and I DID find an online service this year, from Central Synagogue in NYC. Wow -- talk about really, really BIG Jews! The cantors who sang, from the David Geffen Hall, were all Broadway quality.

On YK itself, I drove to Matheson Hammock, where I had put my Mom's ashes over three years ago. It was spectacularly bright yet cloudy day. I enjoyed the lovely breeze, and spoke to Mom and Dad, and gave many thanks to the Big Man -- and asked forgiveness for my sins.

And then I drove home, and convinced Wifey to do penance with me -- we visited her mother.  Believe me -- spending time with this woman IS penance...

Still, I made her laugh, the old so and so... I wrote out on my phone that I was fasting, but that Wifey had paid someone to fast for her -- as Wifey pays people to do ALL The tasks she finds disagreeable.  "Oy -- you SO funny!" said the old woman, and laughed heartily. So maybe I get credit for that.

I envy people of true faith -- those who really find connection with a higher spirit in services. It just isn't me --- except at Canes games, several drinks in with my brothers and sisters, when the Canes win big...