Yom Kippur

In a few minutes the annual celebration of Yom Kippur will end. Across the street in the lovely old synagogue, the small Jewish community of Butte has gathered to pray and sing, to ask forgiveness for the sins they have committed in past years against themselves, others, and God. After the final prayer, the Ne'ilah, the gates of prayer will close and God will have made the final inscription for the past year regarding our worth.

I've moved away from these practices over the years--the prayers and songs are full of mourning and self-blame. I find my own spiritual practice to be full of joy and empowerment--so much that I can't go back to dragging that old sorrow any longer.

I stand at my window, the breeze is chill with autumn, the leaves of the tree outside my window and those up on the East Ridge turn yellow, the clouds hang heavy and gray. I am listening to Joanne Shenandoah, an Iroquois musician--her music is deep and slow, celebrating the cycles of seasons and change. She inspires me into loosening my own voice.

And somehow I can feel the gates of prayer. I stand before them and they remain open wide. My prayers are not a duty, they do not flow begging forgiveness--instead they rise gently and fall into place--like leaves loosened by the autumn winds. My prayers are wordless, but no less sincere, and they flow in joy and appreciation for all that is--the challenges as well as the smooth paths.

Have I sinned? Yes, if you see sin in the old Aramaic way--actions that have missed the mark based on thoughts that have not fully ripened. I know that I have hurt myself and others in my words and actions that are sometimes less than skillful. In fact, sometimes they are purposeful. I am, as I have read in the Egyptian Book of the Dead "a human becoming" and in the process I do my best.

Have I sinned against God? No, if you see God as I do--the Essence of All that is. Not a Being ... like me, a Becoming. Does a tree sin if it is planted in the shade of a building and does not flourish as it could have if planted in the full sun? I am sometimes planted in the shade ... sometimes in the sun ... I have experienced "years that the locust has eaten" and others where I have been repaid in full and more.

My Jewish ancestors believed that the gates of prayer/forgiveness are closed and locked each year--that they had to wait until the following Rosh Hashanah for those gates to swing open again. I honor them for their devotion, sacrifices, and their survival. I honor myself as I choose not to stand outside, a beggar at the gates. Instead, I claim my home and stroll inside the heart of that Essence that has no name but holds all.