Chosen Bound

My mother always taught her Catholic children that Judaism was the foundation of our faith.
Then it officially became my faith in 1995.

For the most part, everyone handled my conversion well. Family members love me. I’m a delight. They love the men in my life – hardly ever referring to them as “Jew boys”.

In other words, my decision never turned us into a Jerry Springer episode. I’m sure older relatives never, in their wildest dreams, thought they’d be related to Jews and even they’re handling it well.

There are some repercussions. For example, I can’t be godmother to any future nieces or nephews. It’s not fair, but you know what they say: Can’t fight Vatican Hall. I have one godson and he will have to do.

Danny is the youngest first-cousin and born about fourteen years before I joined the tribe. I suppose his mother, my mother's sister, had her reasons for picking a mouthy ten year old for such an important gig. She swears Danny likes telling people his godmother’s Jewish. I’ve heard the kid say exactly five words his whole life: “God bless the White Sox." I can't imagine him saying much more. But since he’s my only shot at being a godmother, quiet or not, I guess I’ll keep him.

At any rate, family members get our holidays confused. Last Tuesday, my brother called.

“Where’s my apology?”

“What did I do now?” I asked.

“Twelve months of sh*t,” he said, chewing some kind of dead animal. “So beg my forgiveness. Let’s hear it.”

“Wrong holiday. Yom Kippur is next week, dork.”

Ten minutes later my dad showed up for dinner and asked where to sit when giving his acceptance speech.

“Accepting what?” I asked.

“Your heartfelt apology for all the bullsh*t this year.”

They look forward to my Sorry Speech the way kids look forward to Santa Claus. My sister refers to our Day of Atonement as her Day of Resentment and always lists my screw-ups to review before begrudgingly approving a do-over.

Every year on Yom Kippur, Jews ask God for forgiveness. However, we need to forgive each other first. Therefore at dinner tonight, I said I’m sorry to the people I love. For those who are far away, I call. Then I accept their apologies and we put it all behind us. Except they never apologize because they're not Jewish.

See how this works? Easy fasting, peeps.