2000-10-10 :: 10:27:37

touched by the hand of

Soundtrack: The Orb, "Owbow Lakes" (single song) -- MP3; DJ Shadow, "Organ Donor (extended overhaul)" (single song) -- MP3

I just got back from services and breaking the fast. I was actually really good about keeping the fast (besides starting late); I didn't even take my vitamins and such because you need water to do that and even water is not allowed. It was a good feeling though; it does force you to pay attention to yourself and makes the day's importance stand out.

Most of the Yom Kippur services (there are five; I attended two, the afternoon->evening pair) consist of repenting, atoning, and asking forgiveness from God for our transgressions. Some of the language of the prayers was really beautiful, I tried hard to actively read them. Near the end -- but not before the final service where we stand for about half an hour praying on fairly empty stomachs -- God responds that he has heard our prayers and forgives us. At the moment I read that line, I felt a buzz, a tremble. I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I have never really experienced that before.

Nelly was waiting for me when services let out and came to break-fast. I told her what I've been journaling about lately and that it bothered me when people walked out during a period when we are standing to pray. Disrespectful and disruptive. I don't like it when it seems as though people are there for appearances, as if God will see their physical presence but not their intentions, that their being in Temple on Yom Kippur equates with seriously repenting, because I know what that is like. It is like me at sixteen. But it's not for me to judge, of course. Nelly hasn't journaled since she's come to school. She smelled like Benetton but the word I want to remember is "caramel."

Now I have too much work to do.