Staring at the ceiling

When I was a kid, I never liked the High Holy Day services. I was horrifically bored on one hand and terribly intimidated on the other. I can't even remember the name of the synagogue that I attended as a young child, but I do remember that the ceiling was one of those ceilings made up of lots of 12 by 12 tiles with tiny black holes scattered in random patterns on them. It must have been an older synagogue (or just possibly not constructed very well - where is Stephen Bloom when you need him?) because I distinctly remember water stains on some of the tiles and wondered if the stains were caused by G-d's tears. The services of my youth (I had to be less than 7 years old at the time) led what was probably pretty close to a "conservadox" service. Watching the cantor hit himself and plead for forgiveness was unsettling - I mean, what could the cantor possibly be asking forgiveness for? This just made me even more scared as I knew that I wasn't very nice to my brother. And I did sneak snacks before dinner. Sometimes I said I brushed my teeth when I really didn't because I didn't like how the orange juice would make the toothpaste taste after breakfast. Yep. I was a bad kid.

I was so convinced that G-d was literally writing down names in his book of life that I actually sat incredibly, unbelievably still in my seat - I just had to make a favorable impression on the big guy (or gal). I distinctly recall looking up at those little black holes and trying to glimpse G-d. I mean, the rabbi kept telling us how he was watching us and was everywhere. What if he didn't see me? What would happen if he spelled my name wrong? So there I would sit trying to make eye contact with G-d through the little black spaces in the ceiling tiles. After all, if I could insure that G-d actually SAW me, well, he would just have to write my name in his book!

Since then, events in my life have led me to be skeptical of an all powerful, Omnipresent Being running the show here on earth. Darfur and the holocaust also don't help the cause any. However, the older I get, the more I treasure the routines and traditions of my heritage. There is something so deeply moving, dare I say spiritual, about a gathering of people singing together. There is a spark of electricity when the community comes together in worship. Call it electricity, piety, spirituality, heck, call it whatever you want. I just know that since I started attending Congregation Or Ami, I actually like High Holy Day services. I guess there is a G-d after all!