THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, September 28, 1996 TAG: 9609270099
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E6 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: Issues of Faith
SOURCE: Betsy Wright
LENGTH: 93 lines
IT'S NO SECRET to longtime readers that I take a sort of cafeteria-style approach to my personal religion. The ``main entree'' of my faith is Christianity, to which I've added ``side dishes'' from Judaism, Islam, Buddhism and even Shinto.
Some folks - the purists of the world, God bless 'em - find this repugnant. To me, however, it is the only way I can make sense of this thing called faith. I apologize to no human for this approach.
Thus said, one of my favorite ``side dishes'' comes from Judaism. It is the High Holy Days. To me, the High Holy Days of Judaism are one of the very best ideas of religion. No other world religion has anything quite approaching these ``Days of Awe.'' Christianity's season between Lent and Easter, and Islam's month-long fasting of Ramadan, somewhat touch on aspects of the High Holy Days, but neither quite captures as fully the concepts of repentance and forgiveness as this 10-day period of introspection.
In a nutshell, the High Holy Days of Judaism - recently falling from September 14-23 - begin with Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, and end 10 days later with the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur. In these days, also called Days of Awe, Jews are called to experience the gamut of human emotion. In the beginning they celebrate new life and the opportunity for rebirth and renewal. In the middle they are asked to face the deeper issues of life and ask themselves: ``If life ended today, would it have been worthwhile? Am I fully aware and grateful for the miracle of daily existence?''
Then, in the final days, ending with Yom Kippur, Jews confront their own failures within their human and divine relationships. They repent, seeking to correct old errors. They ask forgiveness from the humans they've wronged and from God. Then, finally, they celebrate the grace they've been granted, feeling pure again and at one with God.
What a cool concept!
Having fallen in love with the High Holy Days of Judaism, I am even doubly awed by the Jewish notion that these days, though particular to Judaism, are not the exclusive possession of the Jews.
``There is no mistaking the `universalist' focus on Lord as Creator and Judge of mankind,'' writes Rabbi Irving Greenberg, in his book ``The Jewish Way.'' ``Year round, the emphasis is much more on God who is known through Jewish history, (but at this time of year) many prayers stress the hope that all humanity will come to know God.''
Hope. Hope is what the Days of Awe are truly about: hope for redemption, hope for humanity, hope for personal renewal.
``This,'' writes Greenberg, ``is why the liturgy bursts with life. `Remember us for life, King who loves life; write us in the book of life, for your sake, Lord of Life.' ''
Though I do not pretend to observe the High Holy Days in the way Jews do, as an admirer of that faith tradition, I have found myself ``observing'' the spirit of the Days of Awe for several years now. This year, I seemed to feel its meaning even more than usual: Part of that comes from just recently turning 40 - an awe-inspiring human event if there ever was one - and part from the new life I'm carrying, to be born just weeks from now.
I have made so very many mistakes in my 40 years on earth. I regret those errors, deeply knowing that they are what make me human and a very separate thing from God, the holy. The awareness of this gulf between human and holy often overwhelms me, but mostly it makes me humble. When humbled, I then begin to see that is it the separation from God - the emptiness of that gulf - that actually draws me to God.
It is mind-blowing to know that the very thing that separates me from God - in a word, sin - is also the very thing that draws me to God. In that moment of realization, my mind boggles at the dichotomy of the human relationship with God.
Good and evil. Suffering and bliss. Birth and death. Yin and yang.
The opposite forces of life and a zillion what's-it-all-about questions flood my brain. I begin to panic. The burden and heaviness of life seem to close in on me.
And then I touch my belly, swollen with new life, and this whole crazy, seemingly-nonsensical thing called faith makes sense.
Life is about experiencing human emotion. Life is about pain, suffering, death and sin. Without them we could not fully know or appreciate the opposites of joy, happiness, birth and redemption.
These are the Days of Awe. Be filled with it and know God. Amen. MEMO: Every other week, Betsy Mathews Wright publishes responses to her
opinion column. Send responses to Issues of Faith, The Virginian-Pilot,
150 W. Brambleton Ave., Norfolk, Va. 23510; call (804) 446-2273; FAX
(804) 436-2798; or send computer message via bmw(AT)infi.net. Deadline
is Tuesday prior to publication. Must include name, city and phone
number. ILLUSTRATION: Graphic
CONGRATULATIONS
Personal well-wishes go today to my editor, Esther Diskin, and
her husband, Glen, at the birth of their first child, Benjamin
Michael. Their healthy son entered this world at 7:30 p.m.
Wednesday, weighing 8 pounds, 3 ounces.
It seems appropriate to dedicate this column to Esther and her
family. Blessings, Esther, and l'chaim. by CNB