yom kippur

In honor of Yom Kippur today, we repented for our sins by eating a big kosher lunch of bacon and eggs.

Then, inspired by a bottle of raw cream in our fridge from an awesome local farm, and the Mark Bittman book I borrowed from my dad a few month ago (sorry, Dad), we made chocolate mousse.


In the meantime, the Orthodox Jews filed past on their way to or from synagogue, the men in their white robes, the women in their wigs, pushing strollers and trailing their huge broods.

Even though my mom is Jewish, no one in my family is religious. I wasn't raised with any kind of religion, and feel only a tenuous connection to Judaism. I mean, I know better than to eat a hamburger with a glass of milk (although, yeah, bacon is totally ok). I can kvetch and schlep and schep naches with the best of them. And I would never vote Republican (unless it was by accident).

But the religion itself just doesn't do it for me.

In fact, this is probably a good opportunity to come clean and confess that we recently started attending church. (Well, Unitarian church, but still.) It did leave my husband's family, who are practicing Jews, somewhat nonplussed.

But we felt like we wanted our kids to have some kind of moral and spiritual (if not religious) education and community. And it seems like a nice place, despite the music, which is equal opportunity in its dreadfulness, ranging from a karaoke version "Put a Little Love in Your Heart" to New Age guitar hymns to off-key Jimmy Cliff renditions on saxophone and keyboards.

But the people are nice, we have some friends who go there, and the kids seem to like it so far.

I'm not ready to call myself a Unitarian or anything, but I think for now we'll stick with it. At least until they haul out the marimbas.