I had something worth writing, on the topic of fasting and fellowship and atonement. I've lost all that. It was a genuinely peaceful day, full of repose, prayer, thought, and excellent friends. But what ideas have I left at the moment? Few. I was asked countless times today (while watching Star Trek) - are you happy?
This stems not from an expectation of "no", but from a nervousness at no longer being around much, and knowing little of my current experience. Am I happy? I think I'm happy. I don't feel unhappy, and I'm enjoying my life. Am I content? I think I'm content.
I expect there are moments on either side, like I'm tiptoeing across a balance, and it shifts with each step. I'm happy I'm happy whoa whoa whoa I'm in trouble! Oh, things are good again! And so on. I remember thinking once, at one point in my life: "does sanctification mean loneliness?" I think that is what people think, sometimes. Solitude, setting yourself apart, distance - are you lonely? Are you okay?
This is why, I think, that Yom Kippur denotes a little bit of loneliness, in my opinion. Fasting always seems a little bit like solitude. Does it mean I'm not okay or unhappy? Of course not.
I learned some things in my holyday meditations and reflections. I think the holy days prepared in the Old Testament sometimes are my favorites, simply because they exhibit a different viewpoint, a world we've mostly forgotten. Anyway, I've rambled enough. This is what happens when you don't eat for a very long time, play soccer, bike around, and then eat as much as possible when your body is falling to pieces - you go a little loopy.
Maybe that is just me. Happy 100.
Showing posts with label yom kippur. Show all posts
Showing posts with label yom kippur. Show all posts
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Friday, September 13, 2013
Yom Kippur
Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the universe, who sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us to kindle the sabbath and Yom Kippur Candles
Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has kept us alive and sustained us and has brought us to this special time.
I've noticed through studies and reading and different interactions that each culture views God in a different manner. Almost every Jewish prayer begins like these two for Yom Kippur: baruch atah hashem, eloheinu melech ha'olam - Blessed are you, oh Lord our God, King of the universe. In fact, when writing out these prayers, the Jewish people often write out "ha shem" which means "the name" instead of the word for Lord, for fear of taking the Lord's name in vain. If you've ever seen G-d before, you know a Jewish writer is writing such to avoid actually spelling out the name of God. There is a lot of fearful respect there that I've always found a bit fascinating.
Anyway, it is Yom Kippur. The Day of Atonement for Christians is strange, as we don't receive our sanctification and redemption through priestly sacrifices (though the Jews do not either at this point).
Leviticus 16: Day of Atonement Text
Many of the traditional activities current Jews avoid are not found in that chapter, but in the Talmud and later writings. Wikipedia lists these as traditional, though I'll probably stay relatively Biblical:
No eating and drinking No wearing of leather shoes No bathing or washing No anointing oneself with perfumes or lotions No marital relations
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yom_Kippur
It is the one Biblical holy day that is a fast. Later, the celebration of Purim (Esther) includes a fast as well, though it was not an original holy day. I was sitting here and playing guitar, lighting candles (Jewish holy days all have candles. Light is a very important motif of Judaism), praying, thinking, and singing, and wondering what this day actually means for me. Is it like an Easter or Pesach? Thankfulness for God's sacrifice as our passover lamb? Or is it praise and thanks for the blessing of sanctification? I honestly cannot say quite what it means to me, and I've honestly never succeeded in keeping Yom Kippur. Last year, I was walking and praying and doing a fantastic job, when a whole row of blackberries tempted me when I was spacing out. I ate handfuls before realizing how stupidly I'd broken my fast.
Another traditional piece of Yom Kippur is the remembrance of those lost to us. This is another thing I'll be remembering.
Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has kept us alive and sustained us and has brought us to this special time.
I've noticed through studies and reading and different interactions that each culture views God in a different manner. Almost every Jewish prayer begins like these two for Yom Kippur: baruch atah hashem, eloheinu melech ha'olam - Blessed are you, oh Lord our God, King of the universe. In fact, when writing out these prayers, the Jewish people often write out "ha shem" which means "the name" instead of the word for Lord, for fear of taking the Lord's name in vain. If you've ever seen G-d before, you know a Jewish writer is writing such to avoid actually spelling out the name of God. There is a lot of fearful respect there that I've always found a bit fascinating.
Anyway, it is Yom Kippur. The Day of Atonement for Christians is strange, as we don't receive our sanctification and redemption through priestly sacrifices (though the Jews do not either at this point).
Leviticus 16: Day of Atonement Text
Many of the traditional activities current Jews avoid are not found in that chapter, but in the Talmud and later writings. Wikipedia lists these as traditional, though I'll probably stay relatively Biblical:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yom_Kippur
It is the one Biblical holy day that is a fast. Later, the celebration of Purim (Esther) includes a fast as well, though it was not an original holy day. I was sitting here and playing guitar, lighting candles (Jewish holy days all have candles. Light is a very important motif of Judaism), praying, thinking, and singing, and wondering what this day actually means for me. Is it like an Easter or Pesach? Thankfulness for God's sacrifice as our passover lamb? Or is it praise and thanks for the blessing of sanctification? I honestly cannot say quite what it means to me, and I've honestly never succeeded in keeping Yom Kippur. Last year, I was walking and praying and doing a fantastic job, when a whole row of blackberries tempted me when I was spacing out. I ate handfuls before realizing how stupidly I'd broken my fast.
Another traditional piece of Yom Kippur is the remembrance of those lost to us. This is another thing I'll be remembering.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Day of Atonement
I'm eagerly looking forward to this Yom Kippur. Many Christians have thrown out the holy days of Israel all together. I don't think this is a problem, but sometimes I enjoy the appointment days. I've actually never successfully celebrated Yom Kippur. It is the only true fast from the Biblical holy days, though several others have been added to Jewish tradition (the day before Purim: celebrating Esther and some others).
The last time I attempted to celebrate Yom Kippur, I was out on a camping trip, and while walking and thinking (I was in the process of losing a friend, and processing that), I came upon some blackberries and mindlessly ate a whole bunch before realizing I was supposed to be fasting. I've managed a number of different fasts and find the meditative aspects and discipline of fasting useful for me in my faith. I have not, as yet, successfully celebrated Yom Kippur as a fast.
The day is considered to be the holiest day of the year for the Jewish peoples, although if you ask a Jewish person what the holiest holy day is, they may very well say "the Sabbath". It is the day where the entirety of God's people was atoned for, and was accompanied by much praying as the gravity of sin was upon the nation of Israel. I will not be going to a Synagogue for this (I've actually never been to a Synagogue service, in my recollection. My Jewish relatives are not very devout). I actually let it creep up on me, and didn't even take the day off of work, though I should have. It will also mark the day, I believe, of my 100th post. I think there is a landmark there, a finality.
I think with Yom Kippur, it has always felt like a very heavy holiday. Whereas Yom Teruah (Feast of Trumpets) is a celebratory feast, full of fellowship and fun, and passover, however intense, is my favorite holiday ever, Yom Kippur carries a strain with it, as though a weighty holiday, a dark one. Is that strange? It is the day of atonement? I think, perhaps, it felt like a duty. Like a failure meant that you were not atoned for the year, that you were cursed. It seems like so much more depends on obedience on this day, and there is no accompanying celebration. Perhaps fasts have always carried that somber disposition for me, as they seem... lonely. You can feast with friends, but fasting seems so solitary. Part of this stems from the passage in scripture where Christ says that if you fast, don't broadcast it. This was due, in large part, to the overzealous pride of the Pharisees in their good works. I do not think a collective fast is without merit.
I think this is a finish line, and hopefully a successful one. I've run a race, and though I did not win, did not, in fact, even do well, I'm still going to cross the line with dignity. I was the only one running this invented marathon, and the only one playing this imaginary game. I finished, and even though I know I lost, at least I tried. It was worth the try. I'm not sure what God has in store for me next. I only pray, with faith, God will lead me through unto green pastures beside still waters. Though perhaps I'm more ready for the spiritual warfare analogy right now than the lambs metaphor. My sword is sharpened, my shield lifted on wobbly arms, and I'm girded with truth. No weapon formed against me shall prosper? Sounds like a winning game.
The last time I attempted to celebrate Yom Kippur, I was out on a camping trip, and while walking and thinking (I was in the process of losing a friend, and processing that), I came upon some blackberries and mindlessly ate a whole bunch before realizing I was supposed to be fasting. I've managed a number of different fasts and find the meditative aspects and discipline of fasting useful for me in my faith. I have not, as yet, successfully celebrated Yom Kippur as a fast.
The day is considered to be the holiest day of the year for the Jewish peoples, although if you ask a Jewish person what the holiest holy day is, they may very well say "the Sabbath". It is the day where the entirety of God's people was atoned for, and was accompanied by much praying as the gravity of sin was upon the nation of Israel. I will not be going to a Synagogue for this (I've actually never been to a Synagogue service, in my recollection. My Jewish relatives are not very devout). I actually let it creep up on me, and didn't even take the day off of work, though I should have. It will also mark the day, I believe, of my 100th post. I think there is a landmark there, a finality.
I think with Yom Kippur, it has always felt like a very heavy holiday. Whereas Yom Teruah (Feast of Trumpets) is a celebratory feast, full of fellowship and fun, and passover, however intense, is my favorite holiday ever, Yom Kippur carries a strain with it, as though a weighty holiday, a dark one. Is that strange? It is the day of atonement? I think, perhaps, it felt like a duty. Like a failure meant that you were not atoned for the year, that you were cursed. It seems like so much more depends on obedience on this day, and there is no accompanying celebration. Perhaps fasts have always carried that somber disposition for me, as they seem... lonely. You can feast with friends, but fasting seems so solitary. Part of this stems from the passage in scripture where Christ says that if you fast, don't broadcast it. This was due, in large part, to the overzealous pride of the Pharisees in their good works. I do not think a collective fast is without merit.
I think this is a finish line, and hopefully a successful one. I've run a race, and though I did not win, did not, in fact, even do well, I'm still going to cross the line with dignity. I was the only one running this invented marathon, and the only one playing this imaginary game. I finished, and even though I know I lost, at least I tried. It was worth the try. I'm not sure what God has in store for me next. I only pray, with faith, God will lead me through unto green pastures beside still waters. Though perhaps I'm more ready for the spiritual warfare analogy right now than the lambs metaphor. My sword is sharpened, my shield lifted on wobbly arms, and I'm girded with truth. No weapon formed against me shall prosper? Sounds like a winning game.
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