Tuesday, August 25, 2015

The Jewish High Holy Days are...

approaching. Every so often, someone will ask me if I'll attend a Temple service. 

This will send my thoughts way back to the times I was under the care and feeding of Sid and Clara Sambur. For those two Old World Jews, High Holy Days Temple service was mandatory, not optional. 

My brothers and I would sit (in uncomfortable suits) watching and listening as the adults prayed and swayed in a display of humility before God. Every so often, the Rabbi would present a sermon to the Congregation. To be honest, I never got the message. I fidgeted and wanted to be outside in the open air. The one part of the Service I loved was the blowing of the Shofar. (A musical instrument contrived from a ram's horn). The shrill notes were  the sound of Jewish blues to me. 

When my Mom passed at an early age for the two of us, I was unleashed to pursue or not to pursue Organized Religions. I chose not to. Don't get me wrong. I feel and associate with being Jewish as much as a Hassidic Rabbi does. 

I just happen to attend a Temple without four walls and a roof. Please gaze at these photos from the Ice Lakes Basin in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. If this isn't getting closer to God, then I'm clueless to the concept. 

I can't speak for everyone, but this kind of religion works for me. A lot less guilt too! 
BTW: Those baggy black shorts and cut-off cotton shirt feel much better than wearing a suit and tie. 

Cheers from Ouray, Colorado.

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