It is Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Hebrew calendar, and I am sat with a group of fellow travellers – the only type of people I want to be sat with, not only on Yom Kippur but all year round – chanting along with the service leaders words of introspection and songs of reflection. We are sat together, we are singing together, but we are each on our own journeys, journeys that are to take us from where we are to where we want to be.
Yom Kippur translates as The Day of Atonement, but it is not atonement that I am after. Atonement is for sins, but I have none. Atonement is by someone, for someone else, but I do not need anyone to atone for me. I do not need that kind of help, for I can manage perfectly fine on my own.
“Our Father, our…
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