Funny story: So Yom Kippur is perhaps the most somber and important day of the Jewish year; it’s the Sabbath of Sabbaths, the Day of Atonement, the day our names our sealed in the Book of Life for one more year.
And Yom Kippur is tomorrow.
But my calendar (don’t trust calendars) implied it began last night, so I began fasting, trying to think of Yom Kippur things, and then I realized, today isn’t even Yom Kippur.
A few weekends ago was North Carolina Pride–a festival of solidarity, equality, and fun. Lots of fun. N.C. State’s student group marched in the parade, and then we all hung around afterwards in various manners until the day came to a close. It was enjoyable. It was–in one regard–exactly like Pride was last year and the year I went before that, but somehow that sameness makes it special–we don’t have to worry what we’ll find, because we know it already.
Somehow that sameness seems to make it meaningless.
With those eight words I began the most hotly contested and highly criticized post I have ever written. It garnered more comments across Facebook and WordPress than my last three or four posts combined, and almost all of them were negative–against Chick-Fil-A, against the premise of the post, even against me.
Drawn using Paper by 53 on my Apple iPad.
It’s a big price to pay for a hypothetical, isn’t it? “Maybe” was my first word, soon followed by “perhaps,” and I ended the post with both a question asking for perspectives on the issue–to which I got a lot of responses–and a call to spread the word if they agreed with it. I can guess the word wasn’t spread very far, but maybe that was for the best.
This morning was the second “Shababa” at the religious school where I teach. It’s a new experiment this year, having “Shabbat school” one weekend every month or so instead of having school on Sunday. So far I’ve enjoyed them; they’re different, but unique and a pleasant experience for teachers and students alike.
Today I had the honor of giving the d’var Torah, which in Hebrew means “words on the Torah.” It’s comparable to a sermon, except it’s not preaching, it’s teaching. See, Jews don’t proselytize–we perseverate. And with all our perseverative studying, it’s only natural to share it with others (since studying the Torah is itself a commandment).
In any case, though short and sweet and written with a younger audience in mind, I thought I may as well share the drash here for anyone who may wish to read it.