How to Celebrate Rosh Hashanah When Your Judaism Is Shaken to the Core

Normally, at this time of year, I would take a passage from the Torah, Talmud, or some other Jewish text that relates to Rosh Hashanah. I would take that passage, analyze it, and come up with some sort of insight that can carry us through the Jewish year of 5778. This year, I don't have that luxury in my life because I am dealing with the loss of someone who was dear to me. Baruch Hashem, thank G-d that individual did not pass away. Although I shared many intimate moments and developed a strong bond with said person, what this person ended up doing to me recently was injurious enough where making up for the damage caused is impossible. One thing that this is done is change my view on humanity a bit. A redeeming feature of Judaism is that it reminds us that we are imperfect beings, but that G-d has given us a framework that provides us with second chances and the ability to do better through what Judaism refers to as teshuvah. Much like we learned with the Pharaoh in Egypt, an individual can fall into a pattern of behavior that can obscure our humanity to the point where they are irredeemable. A default assumption in Judaism is to believe that in spite of our flaws, we have the capacity to improve upon ourselves and be better than we were before. However, my past relationship with the aforementioned individual reminds me that either some people don't want to work on themselves or that some individuals are incapable of working on themselves. I still believe most people can improve upon themselves, but some people are truly beyond redemption.

Unfortunately for me, my recent loss did not just impact my relationship with this person, but also with my religiosity and how I feel about Judaism. Although I believe in an impersonal G-d, I have found myself in a position I have not found myself in years: angry at G-d. Rather than remember the benefits of living a Jewish life or how I have grown throughout my Jewish life, all I can feel is the pain I have endured as a result of Judaism and the costs of living an observant Jewish life. I feel adrift about my Jewish identity and Jewish practice in a way that I never have before. Fortunately, I have an exceptionally supportive Jewish community, family, and overall social network that is helping me stay afloat, but that still doesn't help me with how I proceed with Rosh Hashanah. How do I continue maintaining introspection while looking forward to how I can be a better person and Jew this upcoming year when I wonder whether I still even want to practice Judaism or be Jewish?

I am sure I am not the first person who has undergone an arduous trial in life during this time of year. Based on recent conversations I have had with my Orthodox friends, I know that I am not the first Orthodox Jew to go through, for lack of a better term, a "crisis of faith." Even in the Orthodox world, there are people who struggle with their Yiddishkeit and what it means to be Jewish. It is just that much like other topics in the Orthodox world, they are considered taboo. Instead of addressing these issues and helping people grow spiritually, the Orthodox world has a propensity to sweep these issues under the rug. With that being said, here are a few things I am going to keep in mind for the High Holidays (Yamim Noraim), as well as some advice for those of us whose hearts or minds are not necessarily or fully into the "holiday spirit" this year:

1. A Jew is supposed to struggle and question. It is nice to think that being religious means unwavering support and never doubting or questioning. This is simply not true. This is not simply a matter of "three Jews, five opinions" or how the Talmud, and indeed Judaism as a whole, has been a discussion and debate that spans over the ages. Being able to struggle is literally a namesake of the Jewish people. The Jewish people are referred to as Israel (ישראל). In Hebrew, the word means "one who struggles with G-d." This name was given to Jacob after he fought and struggled with the angel in the biblical text. If we do not struggle with, doubt, or question Judaism, we are not doing it right. 
2. Yom Kippur is not a hard deadline in finishing processing, grieving, or moving forward. This might seem counterintuitive given traditional Judaism's take on this time of year. At this time of year, Jewish tradition teaches that there is a Book of Life and a Book of Death. At Rosh Hashanah, G-d inscribes names in the Book of Life, and at Yom Kippur, G-d seals the Book of Life, thereby sealing our names in the given Book. While interesting imagery, this is not meant to be taken literally. As we see upon analyzing the prayer of Unetaneh Tokef, this is meant to be a metaphor. This time of year is not an opportunity to manipulate G-d in helping us cheat death for another year, but rather to make us think about the ephemeral nature of life. It is meant to bring us closer to G-d. It also reminds us of the fragility of life. This time of year is meant to inspire. At the same time, the Yamim Noraim do not magically solve all of our problems or remove our pain. The nice thing about Judaism is that it focuses on the journey, not the destination. Rosh Hashanah is meant to rejuvenate and inspire, which means that this time of year is meant to be a starting point, not an endpoint (Talmud, Yoma 87a).  
3. Take it one day at a time and do what you can. On the one hand, a Jew is supposed to step it up a notch at this time of year. In the High Holiday prayer books (machzorim), we see the phrase of "teshuvah, tefillah, tzedakah help us avert the Divine decree." We are supposed to do more repenting, praying, and giving money to causes per Jewish law than we do during the rest of the year. On the other hand, I had a good friend tell me in this context that "If you don't bend, you will break." To quote Ben Hei Hei in Pirkei Avot (5:26), "the reward is in proportion to the exertion (לפום צערא אגרא)." Rashi comments on this passage in Pirkei Avot that the reward is in proportion to the effort and difficulty needed for its performance. This passage means that G-d understands what you're going through, and that G-d is well aware of the mitigating or exigent circumstances. In the context of Rosh Hashanah observance, what this means is this. Ideally, it would be great if you go full-out and do mitzvahs galore. But if you don't, G-d understands. The main mitzvah on Rosh Hashanah is to hear the shofar blowing. Even if you are in a tough spot and only go to one service to hear the shofar, G-d will give you even greater kudos since He knows what you're going through. G-d wants Jews to do mitzvahs, but G-d also understands that for the vast majority of people, Jewish practice and dedication to Judaism has its ups and downs. 
• As I wrote a couple of years ago, the Nazarite provides an example of how taking even a few small steps can help us grow immensely, especially during the Yamim Noraim. It doesn't matter if you're making small steps. As long as you're moving forward in your life, that's what ultimately matters.
4. Forgive yourself and cut yourself some slack. I don't say this point because it's easy because I can tell you I struggle with this, especially given recent days. This time of year is about forgiving others, asking G-d for forgiveness, and asking others for forgiveness. There is a lot of forgiveness, but there is one aspect of forgiveness that is often overlooked: forgiving ourselves. I looked at this idea within the context of the Ashamnu prayer, which I know isn't recited until Yom Kippur, but it is still apropos. Why is forgiving ourselves important? Especially when we feel down, it is all too easy to look at the High Holiday liturgy and feel even worse about ourselves than we do. Yes, reflect on the right and wrong you did this past year. At the same time, if you want to do better this upcoming year, if you want to move forward from your struggle, and if you want to be the best version of yourself, then you have to forgive yourself. We are human, and as such, we will err and fall. We will do so many times. What defines us is not how we fall, but how we get back up. Part of getting back up is forgiving yourself so you can do better. If you can remember that, Rosh Hashanah will be more pleasant.  

Our lives are a process. How we feel about Jewish practice or G-d or Torah can and does fluctuate. It is part of the human condition. Will I return to a non-Orthodox denomination? Will I forsake religion altogether? Will I return to Orthodox Judaism after processing my loss and figuring out what I want in my spiritual and religious life? Quite frankly, I don't know. I want to do what makes me happiest and provides me with the most meaning in my life. While my relationship with Judaism and G-d is currently hurting, I am in the process of seeing where this healing process takes me. Much like I hope for myself, I hope for those of you struggling with their Judaism at this time of year, that you may find solace and peace in your relationship with G-d.