I’m not going to temple today. It’s not that I haven’t done anything wrong this past year, or even that I’m not sorry for those things, I just don’t see why I should die by asphyxiation from the collective smell of expensive pancake make-up favored by the women of the congregation or suffer through another internet sermon.
Then there’s the book. Not the Torah. Food and Loathing, my darling memoir in which I write about our congregation and say some not altogther kind things about some people (and yes I am sorry for that, though not enough at the time to have stayed my hand). I’m not exactly Philip Roth, but it’s uncomfortable especially when people ask, the accusation rich in their voices, are you writing another book? Sure, a sequel, Son of Food and Loathing, Food and Loathing: Attack from Mars! Food and Loathing Las Vegas!
What can I say. May we all be inscribed in the Book of Life. And send our love to those who’ve fled.
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Betsy Lerner 
Thanks, Betsy. Now I feel better: no more Jewish Guilt. Like Don Giovanni, I will not repent! Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.
Thanks, Betsy. You made me feel better.
Our synagogue is enormous and very beautiful.
Not wastefully so, just large. I find it overwhelming to be surrounded by so many people. And I’m not fasting today, either.
You get internet sermons, too? What next? Maybe we could all tweet our prayers.
I’m going to spend (waste?) the next half hour imagine all the punchy comebacks you might offer to the guilty. “Yes, a new book. How can I not? You’ve generated so much more material!”
Sounds like you need a new, better congregation.
May you be inscribed. Good health, good books, and good clients.