I used to love going to temple because it meant time with my dad. I used to love waking up early to get dressed up and go with my family to high holiday services. I especially loved sitting next to my pops because he'd tell me the occasional nerdy dad joke, keeping me entertained. I wanted to emulate my father so much and focused hard on the prayers and traditions within the service. I dutifully bowed, stood and sat on command and read the passages aloud with confidence. I was fiercely dedicated to my faith, mostly because it made my father proud.
He has been gone 10 years this December. I have not felt a drive to attend a temple service since. I have been plagued with painful memories of his absence whenever I thought about going to temple. Somehow this year was different.
I look at things very differently now. I decided to go to honor him. Working at a Jewish organization has brought me back to my roots and original community without me even being aware of it. One of the foundations of the Jewish faith is family and tradition and what better way to uphold both than going to temple for the holiest days of the year in honor of my dad?
I went with work mates and took pride once again in my religion and my understanding of my history. I took pride in knowing the prayers by heart and remembering how to read them in Hebrew. Of course it was painfully long and leaned more towards the boring side of things, but I was honored to be there representing my father who couldn't be there himself.
I also ended the week on a good note back at work today. I have such a good time at my job that it hardly feels like work. With the new Jewish year upon us I am confident that good things are to come. I am ready to push forward into the new year, atone for my wrongdoings and negative thoughts on Yom Kippur, and kill it in the year to follow. I am kicking ass and taking names and am going to make major strides towards a healthy, positive life. Hope you'll join me on the ride...
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