Yom Kippur without Synagogue

I don't believe I have ever missed a Kol Nidre service. I have even gone so far as to search out an Orthodox shul while away from home on a business trip. But tonight I will be at home, resting. I'm not writing this to kvetch about my injury, but my broken ribs are healing slowly and I've managed to catch a cough. Ouchie. That's my reason.

From year to year my affinity for synagogue services has waxed and waned, seemingly without explanation. I'm a bit disappointed in myself that missing Kol Nidre this year doesn't feel like that big of a deal when stacked up against everything else. On the other hand it feels like a failure. What, I can't even be a successful High Holiday Jew?

Pros and Cons of Services

What will go on in those services that I will miss out on? The music, which is pretty much unmatched the rest of the year. The majesty of all the Torahs being taken from the Ark at once and held before the congregation. Seeing friends old and new. Learning something new from a rabbi's talk. Praying in community, which Judaism has taught me my whole life is more important than praying alone.

But I have also found in recent years that there are things I always expect to get from Kol Nidre that I rarely if ever do. Majesty. Divine connection, in short supply these days anyway. Guilt, regret, and the need to apologize. Higher purpose and consequence.

Years and years of big expectations have been overlaid on every Yom Kippur since I was a kid in religious school. Holiest day of the year. Shabbat Shabbaton -- the Shabbat of all Shabbats. Even Jews who don't do anything else Jewish all year will probably go to synagogue for Yom Kippur. Or nominally fast. Or at least think about Sandy Koufax sitting out that game.

Fasting is so Slow

Our fast is meant to simulate our death -- dead people don't eat -- and bring us to a higher spiritual plane. Fasting isn't unique to Jews. Lots of different religious use fasting as a way to reach spiritual enlightenment. Honestly, though, all it ever did for me was make me hungry and give me a headache.* I was so distracted by the physical affects of hunger that the spiritual effects were unreachable.

My Real Inspiration

My favorite all-time portrayal of Yom Kippur was on the TV show "Northern Exposure" (Season 6, episode 3, which you can watch here.) Dr. Fleishmann goes through a Dickensian, Christmas Carol Yom Kippur, and at the end he is racing toward the closing gates as the rabbi is blowing the final shofar. You'll have to watch to see if he makes it, but I'll spoil the last minute or so of the show.

Since there is no synagogue nearby. No Nei'lah service to attend, Joel breaks his fast alone. He sits on a mountain vista, meditates for a few moments, and then pulls an orange from his pocket, peels it slowly and takes a bite. (You can fast-forward the video to about 44:00 to see the end.)

This is the Yom Kippur experience I aim for. And I have reached it a few times. One rabbi's version of that final service gives me shivers just thinking about it.

I was a religious school teacher for seven years. I know all the reasons ways to talk someone into going to services. Believe me, I've gone over them repeatedly today. I remain unswayed, and I am a little more sympathetic toward my students now. Although, to be fair, I've put in my time in the pews.

New Inspiration

I will be fasting this year, and in the middle of writing this post a friend wrote eloquently about the fast on Facebook. I am re-inspired by her words:

"May our fast on Yom Kippur be an uncomfortable, difficult and motivating reminder that the oppressed are still oppressed and the hungry remain hungry in my own community.

We don't wish for an EASY fast.

Instead, we wish to feel in these 24 hours what some people, including far too many children, feel every minute of every day."

Amen.