High Holy Days

Last year, and this, were the first in decades that I attended services for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. They were at a Reform synagogue on the Upper West Side, a large congregation with services that employ considerable Hebrew. A dynamic rabbi, superb cantor, and exceptional choir (some prayers sung a cappella). Moments of tears and some of laughter, and I walk out uplifted, not at all like the feeling when I was young and obliged to attend synagogue. I'm pleased to re-find, or maybe just find, such satisfaction, something my mother said would happen (and which I ignored for years).