Renewal.

Last year, Rosh Hashana services left me cold. I'm not much for religious services in general and the whole God thing is pretty much lost on me, but most years, I groove on the intensity and the powerful feelings of community, heritage, and spirituality that seem to permeate High Holidays services. But in 2003, I just wasn't feeling it. Perhaps it was because my nephew made his early appearance just a few days before Rosh Hashana, distracting all of us (joyously) with the trip to Atlanta for his bris and resulting in the first cancellation in 20-some-odd years of my parents' Rosh Hashana open house. Whatever the reason, the holidays left me feeling disconnected and a little sad.

When the new year rolled around again, barely 24 hours after I returned from Greece, I had no real expectations of it. Yet almost in spite of myself, I came away from Rosh Hashana filled with a sense of spiritual renewal and connectedness. My grandmother made her annual pilgrimage westward, bringing her indomitable spirit and razor-sharp wit; the rabbi's sermon was, if a bit long, relevant and thought-provoking; Steve attended his first Jewish service and survived, even asking intelligent and discussion-generating questions afterwards; the Open House was as crowded, food-filled, and entertaining as ever despite the one-year hiatus. And although the English readings at services were as lost on me as always, the prayers and songs and chanting in Hebrew spun a silvery thread in my heart and bound me tighter to the fabric of tradition.

L'shana Tova.