When Pastor Jared asked if I would be willing to write a reflection on this Sunday’s service, and that said service would focus on Yom Kippur and atonement, I had to laugh to myself.
As a former Catholic, raised in a very Catholic family and having two strict Polish-Catholic grandparents (I still feel slightly guilty about eating meat on Fridays,) the concept of sinning and asking for forgiveness for one’s sins is hardly a new concept for me. I remember vividly going through my first Rite of Reconciliation in grade school – attending special meetings at the church with other kids in my class and trying to figure out, along with my friends, what exactly qualified as a sin and whether I needed to confess it or not. Did fighting with my brothers make it on the list as a sin? Should I confess to thinking mean thoughts about certain kids in my class?
So, writing about a Yom Kippur service, where the entire focus is on sinning and atoning for one’s sins, I thought, would be an easy task. And yet, three days later, I still find it hard to write out exactly how Sunday’s service affected me.
Some things are easy to write down. For example, after attending this Sunday’s service, it would seem that the Jewish and Catholic/Christian faiths don’t stray too far from each other when it comes to defining sin. Both faiths have quite a list of both major and minor transgressions. I always liked the Catholic "I have sinned in what I have done and in what I have failed to do," and I liked the Jewish "we have acted presumptuously… we have been stiff-necked… we have gone astray."
On the more difficult side of things, I still have very divided feelings about sin and atonement, and Sunday’s service was, at times, hard for me.
Growing up, my parish priest would state "arrogant are we to think that there is any sin we can commit that God will not forgive." As a young adult, I remember standing in church next to my father and rolling my eyes as he would beat his fist on his breast during the confession of sin portion of the Mass. All I could think was, "What’s the point?" For years, that portion of the Catholic Mass was merely lip service to me; a time to make a statement but not really think about or intend the words I was saying.
After all, God has assured his forgiveness of us on many occasions. Why must we list out what we have done; why must we beat our breast? God knows what we did and if we are truly sorry for it. Why must we ask?
These are still questions I struggle with now as an older adult. To stand with my new congregation in the Methodist faith and to say words and perform acts that I have always associated with "silly" Catholicism and to see that they are, in fact, part of the original Jewish faith, was very difficult. To beat my breast in public, something I always thought of as an over-the-top and melodramatic action, and to try to mean it was extremely hard to do. To speak out the list of 15 sins, both major and minor, even with all the others of the congregation, was also extremely difficult.
Why so difficult? I’m still not sure. Perhaps now, as someone who is trying to really live my faith and have true intent behind my words, it is harder to admit my sins, both to others and to myself. Perhaps, after several very emotionally hard years, I feel that I truly need to ask God for forgiveness. Perhaps because there have been times when I felt that God has never forgiven me my transgressions, as I did not truly mean my words before.
Despite all of these questions and difficulties, though, I left Sunday’s service feeling forgiven, if still filled with questions. But I am grateful, very grateful, that Pastor Jared and IUMC gave me the opportunity to experience an abbreviated Yom Kippur.
One of the reasons I chose to join IUMC is that I have left more services thinking, and feeling, like someone who has really heard the word of God. And this past Sunday, I feel like I truly received some of God’s forgiveness. And for that I am truly thankful.
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