Over the weekend, I observed the holiest day in the Jewish religion, Yom Kippur. For those of you who don't observe, or have never even heard of it, Yom Kippur takes place nine days after our new year, Rosh Hashana. In these nine days, we are meant to reflect upon the prior year and the sins or wrongdoings in which we had committed throughout it. We then compartmentalize all of our transgressions and ask for forgiveness on the tenth day of that month, Yom Kippur, otherwise known as the Day of Atonement.
This is debatably the most important and valued holiday within the Jewish religion; however, if you asked any kid who was raised observing the Jewish religion, they would probably tell you it is just another day of that week sitting in temple, except this time you are starving. Growing up, I went about the traditions of Yom Kippur with no concept of the meaning behind it. I sat in temple, per my parents' wishes, thinking only of the rumbling in my stomach or how much I hated the fact that there was absolutely zero service in the synagogue.
Although, this year was different. Last year was the first year I spent Yom Kippur away from home. While definitely a different version of the holiday I'm used to, I still was not far enough removed from my home life (being only one month in college) to truly appreciate the meaning of this day. However, when I came home this year to recognize Yom Kippur, I was hit with so many new feelings of mixed emotions.
For almost a year I have been living relatively independently, which means it was the first time I was absolutely aware of my own responsibility. By responsibility I don't mean picking up my own prescriptions or taking out the trash, I mean the way my words and actions affect the people around me and how I choose to live with these newly cultivated relationships.
Rather than spacing out this year, I was overcome with a sense of hyperawareness. The rabbi gave a sermon about respecting my elders, influencing me to resonate with the fact that my parents are incredibly generous and how often I take that for granted.
It even allowed me to appreciate the pledge class above me in my sorority and all the hard work they put in to create a wonderful chapter and an incredible rush process for the pledge classes to follow. This sudden change of heart prompted me to see the unfortunate, and dare I say it disrespectful, behavior I would convey toward these people throughout my life.
Standing at the Nilah service, I pounded my heart during each chant. With each pound, I could feel a small bit of my repentance giving way toward my old behavior, and creating a path in which I can begin my new year with a better sense of self. This was not my first Nilah service, nor was it the first time I have participated, however, it was the inaugural moment of my first Yom Kippur thinking and repenting as an adult.