Shana Tova

I did go to temple last night, but it wasn't religious fervor that made me rush home to my family and tell AnnaRay how much I love her.

I've been struggling with the fact that, though I say I want to join a temple, I really only want to go on the High Holy Days. We call this week The Days of Awe, and I just love that. I love that every year we Jews come together and, no matter where I am, I can find my people in a roomful of strangers. I love that before we can ask God's forgiveness on the Day of Atonement, we first must ask forgiveness of our fellow humans, and I love that when we do ask God forgiveness, we say, "Look man, we screwed up this year and we're really sorry about that. We strive to do better next year, but you know and we know we're going to screw it up again, so please forgive us now and we'll be back again next year for more of the same."

But here's my problem: I don't actually believe in this god we're praying to, so while I love the spirit and the ritual of the holiday, it's hard for me sit through services every week, and if I just go to synagogue during the high holy days, I feel like I'm taking from a congregation that supports me when I need them on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, but not giving back anything in return during the rest of the year. And God or no God, I am still Jewish, so I have guilt about this. I could just pay my dues and show up only when I feel like it, but I have a problem with paying dues for a membership I'm only interested in using once a year. I used to think paying for it would make me more likely to go, but if it didn't get me to the gym, it sure won't get me to Friday night services.

The funny thing is, the rabbi's sermon last night was all about people like me - Jews who only show up in shule those two days out of the year. He said we come not for the praying, but for the community and for the tradition, and he was certainly right in my case. So even though the congregation was warm and welcoming, and even though the rabbi cracked Borscht Belt jokes that reminded me of my mother, and even though I left the service humming Avinu Malkaynu, which I crave to hear every year as the leaves begin to fall, I couldn't wait to get out of there and get home to my family, because for me, community and tradition are empty if I can't share them with my Goyisha bride and our WASPy-looking little boy.

I'm lucky though, because AnnaRay will come to synagogue with me, and she does celebrate my holidays, and her goals for this coming year are exactly the same as mine, (except, love Joss Whedon as I do, I'd rather watch the first season of 24. But whatever. We'll work it out.) So maybe I'll just suck it up and pay the dues and only go when I feel like it. And who knows, maybe I will go more than once a year - at the very least it may be a good way to get involved in some charitable project, since that's on both of our to do lists. And so what if I do just go on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. I'm an adult, right? I can do what I want, as long as I'm not hurting other people. It's not like God is going to strike me d