Rosh Hashanah begins tonight. This is the start of the Jewish Holy Days; a time when Jews gather as a community for self-reflection and penitence. I used to love these holy days. I appreciated the time to reflect on my achievements and failures. I took moral inventory to realistically see my strengths and weaknesses, to be grateful for all of the gifts in my life, and to resolve to work on bettering myself without judgement. I used to feel a wonderful peace in this opportunity to tune out the physical and focus on the spiritual.
Five years ago all that changed. After my husband Brian’s death I was consumed with grief. I become more active in attending religious services. I was desperate for some sort of comfort and understanding through Judaism.
I didn’t find it.
During those first holy days after Brian’s death, I read about God deciding “who shall live and who shall die. Who by fire and who by water.” I read these words and felt an excruciating pain, because I do believe in God, but I can’t believe that God decided that Brian would develop cancer and die. I can’t believe that Brian’s death was some sort of punishment. I have never believed in a God that micromanages our lives. I believe in a God that gave us free will. Brian died because a cancer cell went rougue in his body and we did not have the ability to find it fast enough to stop it.
I am not angry at God because I don’t believe that God wanted to punish Brian or me. I think God is more involved in the big picture than with our daily lives, but I do get angry when I read those prayers. It has caused a real crisis of faith that I have been struggling with for five years.
Ultimately, I deal with this conflict by telling myself that the words of Torah, and the words in our sidurs are written by humans- no better, smarter, or chosen than me. That these are explanations and metaphors - not the actual word of God. This allows me to attend services. This allows me to say my own heartfelt prayers, to feel all the nuances of my gratitude and my grief, and to reject those parts of the service that offend me without being a bad Jew or a bad person.
So, as we prepare to observe these holy days, I am finally able to tell myself that these feelings do not make me a bad Jew; that I can reject these parts of our prayers without rejection my belief in God or my connection to my religion; that I can own my grief and anger without being ungrateful.
I still feel ambivalent about participating in services, and I still feel offended by these words; but I do finally believe that this is ok. I can immerse myself in self reflection and I can pray as a member of the community. I can own my discomfort.
As we begin this holy season, I wish all of you who celebrate a year of peace, health, happiness and understanding.
