Every few years, my birthday falls on Yom Kippur. Any other early Libras in the house may know the joy that I experienced as a child, when my birthday celebration was combined with over a dozen hangry (read: hungry and angry) relatives hovering over a table full of bagels and lox, hapharazrdly singing happy birthday in a low-blood-sugar drone while a store-bought cake was wheeled out by my exhausted mother. Still, it seems appropriate somehow that this year, on the very day I leap gleefully out of my twenties and into my thirties, I should be asked by my religion to reflect upon the sins of my past, and possibly to atone for them. Hm. Could I have done anything over this past decade to warrant atonement?

To help answer my own (and G-d’s!) question, I’ve complied a short list. Here are some of the highs and lows of my twenties, in chronological order:

1. Backpacked through Europe: Sweet Jesus (am I allowed to say that on here?), was that really ten years ago?!
2. Followed my dreams: Moved to Hollywood to try and become famous. (Didn’t.)
3. Abandoned my dreams: To be fair, they stopped being my dreams after three years of waiting tables.
4. Put my youthful idealism to work: Worked at a nonprofit for four years.
5. Had said youthful idealism trampled: Worked at a nonprofit for four years.
6. Experienced quarterlife crisis: Flew into a complete panic upon turning 25. Drank heavily, pondered the meaning of my life, decided that I was no longer young, panicked more, drank more, made plans, forgot about them.
7. Took advantage of being a spring chicken: Worked in seedy and not-so-seedy strip clubs to make some real money while working at a nonprofit for four years (no, not as a waitress).
8. Had fling with wildly inappropriate individual: 20 years old. Bipolar. Temporarily homeless. Still managed to be incredibly sexy.
9. Went back to Europe: This time I went with a play in hand and dreams of making it big at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Fine, you caught me – my dreams weren’t completely abandoned, per list item three. Literalist.
10. Wrote book: Hopefully the thirties will see it published. (Publishers, feel free to email me at the address below.)
11. Mastered the art of shameless self-promotion: See number 11.
12. Had successful, adult relationship: So successful that I’m still in it, and in fact betrothed. All is not lost for my mother.

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The week before Rosh Hashanah this year was not at all what I had expected.  On Sunday, while recovering from the flu, I paid bills, gave tzedakah and sent out a few holiday cards.  I got up and went to work the next day just like normal.  Except it wasn’t a normal day - when I got to my office, it had been cleaned out.  Instead of our holding our Monday morning staff meeting, my boss presented me with a pink slip.

Still a little under the weather and definitely shocked, I made my way home and baked brownies.  In a moment my entire life had changed – for the better or for the worse I wasn’t sure.  I did know that all my expectations were tossed on its head for that morning, that week, the upcoming holidays, my moving plans (I had been looking for a new apartment), my career path.  I won’t lie, I didn’t like my job, but the crappy paycheck was far better than no crappy paycheck.  I got laid off the day Ben Bernake had announced the recession was “likely over” but I had been job hunting for over a year already, so I didn’t see my newly acquired unemployment status changing as quickly as it arrived.

The next couple of days were a bit of a blur.  I told my roommates that on account of my dramatically decreased salary, I was going to need to move.  I didn’t know where I was going to go, but paying rent for an apartment I wasn’t living in didn’t make much fiscal sense (I had been de facto living with my boyfriend for the last several months). Luckily for them they found someone new right away, which meant that by the end of the month was likely going to be jobless and homeless.

While so many of my friends were thinking about apples and honey and wishing everyone a sweet new year, I was virtually “pounding the pavement” in my pajamas in front of a laptop looking for a direction in my life.  Where was I going to find a job?  Where was I going to live?  At a time of year of introspection and forward thinking, I had dropped a few rungs on Maslow's hierarchy of needs.  Instead of thinking about being inscribed in the book of life for 5770, I was wondering about how when I packed all my worldly possessions into a Uhaul shortly after Yom Kippur, where that U-Haul was going to go – which puts things in a whole new perspective.

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It seems that the best time to hit on girls at shul is at Yizkor. Their parents are usually inside and you can use pickup lines like "both my parents are alive, wanna party?" or "I see you still have both your parents."

Unfortunately I never really got to pick up chicks at Yizkor because since the age of 6 I have been "stuck" inside shul during Yizkor. I always sneaked out the back entrance of the shul out of embarrassment when I was younger. It wasn't until I got older that I realized that getting to stay in shul during Yizkor was kind of like a private club. I can remember countless times looking over the mechitza at some other girl my age and trying to get her eye, as if to say "don't worry baby, my mom's dead too" or "I know how you're feeling, lets get it on til you feel better." This never happened, but only after the age of 23 or so did I realize the possibilities of picking up a chick at Yizkor were greatly increased if you had to say it.

I used to hate coming out of Yizkor. It felt like all eyes were on me, people snickering and saying "ha ha his mom's dead." Remember that I grew up in the '80s before political correctness became stylish - I was treated like shit as a kid for not having a mom.  My stuttering problem and weird name for a modern Orthodox kid didn't help much either.  I kind of avoided having to admit I was in a single parent household, like how someone who is closeted and gay tries to avoid all talk of heterosexuality. As a motherless child I avoided conversations that were about things like what your mom made for lunch - it kind of sucked to tell you the truth.

Now I look forward to Yizkor. Not only is it time to focus on our mortality and remember those who have passed on, but it's kind of cool to look around as I get older and realize that I am rarely the youngest anymore. I also love seing who has had a death in the family so that I can have some ammo if they look like someone I want to get to know - not only women, my dear friends, men as well - because I am an equal opportunity bonder.

"It's always easier to apologize than to ask permission." - Grace Hopper

I love the High Holidays, and have since I started practicing Judaism. Sure, I always grumble and moan about making it through a whole day of fasting on Yom Kippur, but I find great joy and strength in the Days of Awe. Not coincidentally, a lot of that has to do with the fact that the High Holidays are always around my birthday (which is today, FYI). Birthdays are a natural time of year for reflection, so tying that in with the Jewish calendar is a beautiful way to gather my thoughts and set new priorities for the year to come.

One hallmark of the Days of Awe is, of course, atonement. I don't think it's inappropriate to apologize via email - that is how we communicate now, and as long as the intention is genuine, I don't think it is a big deal what form the apology comes in. That said, a few years ago I received an apology via email that I refused to accept.

Here's the quick and dirty story behind said apology: a few years ago, I dated a man we'll call "Lior." Although Lior and I only dated for a few months, we'd known each other for a long time beforehand and had many mutual friends. That was why I found it particularly surprising when Lior left a message on my voicemail one afternoon breaking up with me. Afterward, I found out a few less-than-savory details about his extracurricular activities that effectively ruined any residual goodwill I had toward him. Fast forward a couple of months, and it was almost Yom Kippur. One day, I saw an email from Lior in my inbox. It was the first time I'd had any contact with him since the aforementioned voicemail.

Dear Lilit, it read. Voicemail was kind of shitty, huh? Sorry about everything. Hope you're doing OK. Happy holidays.

That was it, except for his name at the end.

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On the second night of Rosh Hashanah, the line stretched down the block and around the corner with hundreds of people eager to enter San Francisco's most famous synagogue, Temple Emanu-El. But this crowd didn't need to purchase high priced tickets and wasn't there for a traditional Rosh Hashanah service, in fact, for most people in line, this would be the only time they stepped foot in a Jewish space during the entire holiday.

 

The crowd was instead waiting to enter Hidden Melodies Revealed, a secret celebration of Rosh Hashanah with JDub Recording artist The Sway Machinery. [Editor's note: This event was promoted on Jewcy, and JDub records is an advertiser on the site.] 641 people entered the Temple for an experience unlike any a San Francisco Temple had ever seen. As soon as Sway Machinery hit the stage, hundreds rose from their seats to dance in the aisles and the foot of the stage, in a truly unique way to bring in the new year.

 

Some in the audience commented on how they hadn't celebrated the holiday in years, for others, it was a different way to reflect on their culture and welcome in a new year. As with their LA show two days prior, The Sway Machinery put on another incredible performance, bringing new life and excitement to liturgy and prayers that have been sung and recited in familiar melodies for decades. This wasn't your grandparent's Rosh Hashanah service, nor was it Rosh Hashanah with a Klezmer twist, it was experimental, avant garde rock that brought a different perspective to one of Judaism's highest profile holidays. As the events producer, I could not have been happier with the turnout and the performance the band gave. It was a transcendent experience and I look forward to helping create more moments like this in the future.

So, it turns out that the reason your mom has been calling more often than usual is because the High Holidays are upon us. If you still haven't figured out where you're going for services, here's a city-by-city list of options. This list is woefully incomplete, however, so feel free to post a comment, RT us on Twitter @jewcymagazine, or email info@jewcy.com to let us know about happenings in your town. L'shanah tovah!

Atlanta

Chabad Intown: Fri, Sep 18 at 7:20 PM; Sat, Sep 19 at 9:30 AM; Sun, Sep 20 at 9:30 AM

Congregation Or VeShalom: Fri, Sep 18 at 6:45 PM; Sat, Sep 19 at 8:00 AM; Sun, Sep 20 at 8:00 AM

Boston

The Vilna Shul: Fri, Sep 18 at 6:30 PM; Sat, Sep 19 at 9:00 AM; Sun, Sep 20 at 9:00 AM

Temple Beth Shalom/Tremont Street Shul (Cambridge): Fri, Sep 18 at 6:00 (traditional minyan) and 6:30 PM (egalitarian minyan); please see website for list of multiple offerings on Sat, Sep 19

Chicago

Makom Shalom: Fri, Sep 18 at 8:00 PM

KAM Isaiah Israel: Fri, Sep 18 at 8:00 PM; Sat, Sep 19 at 10:00 AM with a childrens' service at 10:15 and a young families' service at 3:00 PM; Sun, Sep 20 at 10:00 AM

Temple Sholom of Chicago: Fri, Sep 18 at 7:30 PM; Sat, Sep 19 at 10:45 AM with a family service at 9:00 AM

Los Angeles

Wilshire Boulevard Temple: Fri, Sep 18 at 4:45 or 6:45 PM; Sat, Sep 19 at 8:30 AM; Sun, Sep 20 at 10:00 AM

Temple Israel of Hollywood: Fri, Sep 18 at 8:00 PM; Toddler through 2nd grade "family service" on Sat, Sep 19 at 8:30 AM (no ticket required)

Chabad of Miracle Mile: Fri, Sep 18 at 6:45 PM; Sat, Sep 19 at 10:00 AM (both held at the Orlando Hotel)

New York

92Y Tribeca: Fri, Sep 18 at 6:30 PM; Sat, Sep 19, 10:30 AM and 12:45 PM

The Actors' Temple: Fri, Sep 18 at 7:00 PM; Sat, Sep 19, 10:00 AM and 7:30 PM; Sun, Sep 20 at 10:00 AM

Congregation B'nai Jeshurun: Fri, Sep 18 at 6:30 PM; Sat, Sep 19 at 9:00 AM; Sun, Sep 20 at 9:00 AM

West End Synagogue: Fri, Sep 18 at 6:00 PM; Sat, Sep 19 at 10:00 AM; Sun, Sep 20 at 10:00 AM

San Francisco

Congregation Sha'ar Zahav: Fri, Sep 18 at 7:30 PM; Sat, Sep 19 at 9:30 AM; Sun, Sep 20 at 9:30 AM

Congregation Beth Shalom: Fri, September 18 at 6:30 PM; Sat, September 19 and Sun, September 20 at 8:00 AM

Congregation Ner Tamid: Fri, Sep 18 at 6:00 PM; Sat, Sep 19 at 9:00 AM; Sun, Sep 20 at 9:00 AM

Washington, DC

Sixth & I Synagogue: Fri, Sep 18 at 6:30 PM; Sat, Sep 19 at 9:00 AM; Sun, Sep 20 at 9:00 AM

Ohev Shalom: Fri, Sep 18 at 6:55 PM; Sat, Sep 19 at 7:55 PM

Tifereth Israel: Fri, Sep 18 at 6:30 PM; Sat, Sep 19 at 8:30 AM; Sun, Sep 20 at 8:30 AM

"Kadosh, Kadosh, Kadosh," we say to You in prayer, three times over. "Holy, Holy, Holy." And now I find myself before You, at thrice the age of a boy who has had his bar mitzvah. I cannot count the times over all these years that I have awakened and called out to You, still in my bed, that I stand before You, God. I have thanked You for the purity of my soul, for the wonders of my body. I have praised and exalted You, over and over again, in words of my own, in synagogue, joined with my people in common prayer, Sabbath after Sabbath, festival after festival, fast day after fast day. I've read psalms and even written them to You, as all of my friends have, calling out to You, O God of Israel.

When I was twice the age of a bar mitzvah boy I remember asking the rabbi of my youth this question: "After all of these years of calling out to God, why hasn't He called back?" The rabbi's answer was simple. "To the prophet Elijah He spoke, we are told, in a still small voice." I knew nothing of still small voices. Our household was always filled with people, and our prayer halls are always jammed and noisy from men's prayers. Curious about how I would ever hear that still small voice, I asked my Christian friend Rolando about silence, for I had heard that Christian monks spend long periods of time alone, silent, in prayer. He told me what he knew, gave me a book of his to read, which invoked the same passages about the still small voice. So I found places to still myself, in the attic, the cellar, in the synagogue at times when no one else was there. Once, feeling very brave, I asked Rolando if I could go to church with him, and he took me, at a time when mass was not being offered. He led me to a tiny chapel, where candles flickered before an image of a saint. I was nervous and yet curious. He knelt and I stood in silence. But I did not hear Your voice, God, although we remained there a long time, and I have tried, in the middle of the night, when I wake, to feel my way to You in the silence, to open myself up to You, in the silence. But You never spoke back to me, God, not one single time in all of those years.

Once when we were boys, and he had just come back from mass, I remember Rolando telling me about the mystery of Jesus, how he was God Himself, come to earth, come into a human body. That he was born, suffered, and died for our sins. It did not make sense to me, why the Creator of all that is would have to do that. But it makes sense to me now.

The first time I saw him, God, come into a room, I felt as if a comet had shot its way down from the heavens, down across the sky, sending its fiery tail out behind it, illuminating the night. I felt as if that comet had flared its way across the sky and then careening downward, had slammed into my chest with the force of a gigantic cannon ball, crumbling my defenses, smashing through all of my protective walls, setting me on fire. Each time that I saw him, God, walking in the city, in the market, in the bathhouse, I burned. And if I saw him with any other men, such rage flamed up in me that I feared for my actions. And I ran from him, turned my back and fled each time I saw him. I am not a boy, God, as you know, and this foolish youthful passion is unseemly.

So why did You do this to me?  Why didn't You just speak, as You spoke to the prophets, directly, or spoke to the rabbis of old, in a lesser voice, which we call the daughter of a voice? God, I would fall to my knees before You if you spoke to me in the great great granddaughter of a voice, in a voice so tiny that it would make a whisper sound like waves crashing on the shore, or the crack of lightning shattering the sky, or the thunder of horses across a plain, pulling iron chariots. Instead, you have come to me this way, turning me into a Christian. For now I understand what Rolando was telling me all of those years ago. You do enter the world. You can be born. But this time it is me who suffers, me who is dying, me who yearns to sin and live for my sins. What madness, to be twice a heretic, for now I believe like a Christian and not a Jew. But I cannot join their church for I do not believe that Yesu was Your only begotten Son, but Abdul.

Abdul ibn Rachman, the son of a minister to the king. Abdul ibn Rachman, even his name sends shivers through me. I ran from him. You know that I did. I turned and ran, double heretic that I am, falling in love with a Muslim. And now yesterday, in a voice so loud that I could not deny it, You called out to me through him, and I ran to You. A cart out of control, thundering down the Street of the Tailors, just as I was passing. I heard it before I saw it, and I threw myself up against a wall as it passed. But there ahead, there was a crowd. They too did the same, all of them, press themselves flat against a wall. But the horse was wild, and the cart was rocking from side to side, and a single man with his back to me was struck as the cart shuddered by. I saw it rip into his shoulder, and I heard his scream. Being a physician I ran toward him, as he fell into the street, holding his shoulder, in agony. A woman beside him began to scream for help, as I fell to the ground beside the fallen man. "I'm a doctor," I said to him, as I lay a gentle hand upon his back. "You're going to be all right." I did not know that. It's something that we always say. You know that. So I said it, as I slipped a hand down his back and slowly lowered him to the street.

You did this to me, God. This is the way that you have answered all of my years of prayer. For when I turned him from his side to his back, it was those same dark eyes looking up at me, now in terror. I pulled my shawl off, rolled it up and quickly put it beneath his head. He smiled at me weakly, upside down. I told him I had seen what had happened, and asked him how his shoulder was. He winced as he tried to move his left arm toward his right, to feel from the outside what I knew from his grimace must be very painful. Was his shoulder dislocated, broken, torn? Blood was seeping through his clothing. I was about to say something else when two servants came running through the crowd which had gathered. They were servants of his father's. But You know that. You know how they gently lifted him and carried him back to his father's house, and how I followed them. And You know how all the way there he clenched my hand and would not let go, and how each time the servants slipped or loosened their grip on him, he would shudder, wince, cry out in pain. Later, when I had examined him and found out that nothing was broken but skin, nothing dislocated but our hearts, he told me that he was ashamed that he'd cried out. And I said to him, "Every cry is a prayer." And he said, "This is the first cry of mine that has ever been answered." Surely this is a sign from You, that two men find each other who have been looking for You without success, who find You in each other. And so I say, thank you.

No need to choose between atoning for your sins or going to Jersey to see U2 in concert - the Irish band has rescheduled a concert in order to avoid conflict with a football game and the High Holidays. According to the New York Times:

In a news release on Thursday, publicists for U2 said that the group’s concert scheduled at the stadium in East Rutherford, N.J. for Sept. 25 has been moved to Sept. 23. The change was made after the New York Jets rescheduled their Sept. 27 football game against the Tennessee Titans to 1 p.m. from 4:15 pm to avoid a conflict with Yom Kippur, which starts at sundown that day. In their release, U2’s publicists said that the staging installation for the band’s tour requires up to two days to disassemble, and the new game time made it “logistically impossible” for the installation to be broken down between a Friday night concert and a Sunday early afternoon game. The release added: “In order to accommodate the New York Jets, the NFL and the state of New Jersey, which owns the stadium, and out of respect for U2 and Jets’ fans of Jewish faith, U2 agreed to move their show rather than pursue other options.”

My WASPy Etiquette Consultant Recommended ThisLook what I discovered in my quest to find cool Rosh HaShanah cards.  The "New Year Girl" collection from tastemaking stationary designer Bonnie Marcus (formerly a wedding planner and special events coordinator at the 92nd Street Y, thank you very much) is stylish and appropriate, and includes both modern and traditional elements. 

The funny thing is, I discovered Miss Marcus through a rather unlikely source--namely, an etiquette blog written by one "Annabel Manners," a "displaced debutante" WASP in Los Angeles.  This southern belle from South Carolina (I think?) claims to be "learning all kinds of interesting things" in her current city of Los Angeles.  For example, Jews have their own New Year, which happens in Autumn. 

She explains that when she first saw the card, it really "threw her for a loop."  Despite a bit of confusion about the autumn leaves, apples, and honey, she thought the design might be a great choice for "clients who need non-denominational holiday cards."  Luckily, she made the Rosh HaShanah discovery before embarrassing herself. 

Good luck with the multicultural studies, Miss Manners, and might I add: You'd fit right in at my temple!

At one point on the first day of Rosh Hashana the talking at the Orthodox synagogue where I was davening pretty much drowned out the cantor’s voice. I switched seats a couple of times and ended up in the balcony, where the talking was still totally audible, but at least I didn’t feel tempted to give people dirty looks, which is neither effective nor in the spirit of starting fesh and being good. Even way up in the nosebleed section, though, I was bothered by all of the socializing that went on.
And I Was Like, "OMG, Malka!: I totally dig your new shaitel!"
Let me be clear: I am not exactly one hundred percent focused on the siddur on your average Shabbat service, let alone in a service that’s twice as long. Certainly I chat with my friends on occasion, and when I’m visiting my parents in Chicago I frequently ask my dad Jew-y questions during davening. There’s a pretty normal tide of talking that happens during any service, and I generally don’t find it bothersome. What I don’t get, though, are people who insist on using synagogues as exclusively social entities. Want to have a long conversation with your friend Betty about Tillie’s ugly baby? That’s why God invented Kiddush, people. But that discussion is not best accompanied by a shofar, or the dirges of Kol Nidre.

If you don’t want to come to shul, or if you just feel like putting in an appearance but you don’t buy any of this God crap, I think that’s fine. It’s your own business, and I don’t have the time or inclination to deal with it. But if you DO show up, the least you can do is try to refrain from ruining for the rest of us. Bring a book, for the love of God! Read US magazine for all I care, or have thumb wars with your sister, or make eyes at the cute guy around the room. Just please keep your commentary down to a low hum.

Interestingly, the siddur I use on Shabbat has a mi sheberach in it that’s meant to be said before returning the Torah to the ark, and it asks God to protect people who keep their mouths shut during davening. It’s kind of hilarious, and kind of brilliant.

If you won’t listen to me, maybe you’ll take it from SuperDavener! Below is an insane and ridiculous movie about not talking during davening made by prepubescent yeshiva boys. It features a superhero who wears boxers outside his pants, and his his tsitsit coming out the bottom of his boxers.

I am all about sending New Years cards before the High Holidays, but I’m not all about paying Hallmark insane amounts of money for lame little notecards with a shofar and a Jewish star on them. I have sixty people I want to send cards to this year, and even though I’m not exactly Miss Crafty I figured that I could buy some supplies at a craft store and make them myself for cheaper than it would cost to buy them. Here’s how to make cards like mine:

Have A Sweet New Year

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Every year as an undergraduate I sent out a flurry of emails to professors on the first day of classes. Basically as soon as I got my syllabus for a class I went back to my room and wrote an email notifying the professor about the days of class I’d have to miss because of the High Holidays and Sukkot. Occasionally I got off lucky if the holidays fell mostly on weekends, but for the most part I knew I’d have to miss a few days of classes, and I developed a pretty good template for notifying my professors. The key is to give as much advance notice as possible, and to be openly accommodating, especially if you’re going to be missing class for Rosh Hashana and Sukkot. I often attend class on Sukkot, and just refrain from taking notes. Again, the key seems to be letting the professor know what’s going on. I’m including my basic letter below. Note that this year Rosh Hashana begins Wednesday night Spetember 12th and goes until Friday evening when Shabbat begins. Yom Kippur mercifully falls on Shabbat. The first yom tov of Sukkot begins on the evening of Wednesday the 26th and lasts through Friday. The second yom tov begins Wednesday night October 3rd and again lasts through Friday.
Tekiah!: School's out for Rosh Hashana!

Dear Professor Know-It-All,

My name is Tamar Fox and I’m a student in your PHIL:200 Meaning of Life seminar. I’m writing because I wanted to let you know ahead of time that I’ll be absent from class on September 13th, and 27th in observance the Jewish holidays of Rosh Hashana and Sukkot respectively. I will be sure to get classnotes from one of my peers, and of course I will keep up with the reading. I have noticed that we have a 3 page paper due on the 27th, and I will make sure to turn that paper in to you on Tuesday the 25th. In addition, if you think I should have an appointment with you to go over anything I might have missed, or if you’d like me to complete a supplementary assignment I’d be happy to do so.

Thursday October 4th is also a Jewish holiday, but I will be attending class so as not to fall too far behind. I won’t be taking notes, in observance with the prohibitions associated with the holiday, but I will participate in discussion and will again get notes from one of my peers after the holiday.

For more information about Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, and its rituals and prohibitions, please see http://www.jewfaq.org/holiday2.htm. For more information about Sukkot and its rituals, please see http://www.jewfaq.org/holiday5.htm. You may also want to consult with the Hillel Director on campus, Judah Jew, who can be reached at Judah.jew@university.edu, or 123-4567.

Thank you for your time and I look forward to our next class session.

Sincerely,
Tamar Fox

I’ve never had any professor ask me to turn in any work or do anything extra as a result of this letter. In fact, being prepared and so organized right from the start has scored me a lot of points with professors in the past.

It’s still stressful to have miss tons of class because of the High Holidays, but it doesn’t have to burn bridges between you and your professors.