kol nidre

I’m at home, after a thwarted attempt at attending a Kol Nidre service this evening.

I’d made last-minute plans to attend services at Gesher, an outreach group for unaffiliated Jews in Portland. I’d never been there before, and given that it’s located in an area of town that’s frequently problematic, and that I was headed there on a Friday during rush hour, I allowed an hour-and-a-half for a trip that should otherwise only take thirty minutes.

I didn’t make it.

I was at the mercy of bad directions from Mapquest which tried to send me on roads that don’t actually exist between Point A and Point B. I’ve got a pretty good sense of direction and don’t generally have problems with maps, but even with the help of my trusty Thomas Guide (somewhat outdated), I still managed to get turned around several times — fairly easy to do in this section of SW Portland, where twisting and turning streets spontaneously end and then pick up again out of nowhere without warning, where five- and six-way intersections aren’t uncommon, and where signage is frequently non-existent or misleading. Trying to navigate in heavy traffic didn’t help.

At 6:30pm, when Kol Nidre was set to begin, I still wasn’t anywhere close to Gesher. If I called for help with directions, I’d be interrupting services. I managed — rather miraculously — to find my way to the highway, and headed back toward home. I was still fighting traffic, but it wasn’t as bad heading out of town.

I was angry, and frustrated. I’d been looking forward to Kol Nidre at Gesher, to my very first Erev Yom Kippur. I’d even changed into the silver high heels I bought for my sister’s wedding rehearsal dinner, because they’re one of the few pairs of non-leather shoes I own.

As I drove and tried to keep the setting sun out of my eyes, I started to cry, which made me feel silly and stupid. I’ve been going back and forth with myself these past months about converting to Judaism, and I wondered if this were some kind of a sign. If this was meant to happen, shouldn’t it be easy? Did that logic apply both to my attending Kol Nidre, and my becoming a Jew? That’s when my stubbornness kicked in.

Taking a look at how upset and angry I’d become over missing Kol Nidre, it was clear how much I wanted this. If this hadn’t meant anything to me, I wouldn’t have made the effort to begin with, much less getting my knickers in a twist when it didn’t work out. I thought of the tradition of denying potential converts several times, as a test of their dedication and desire. Maybe this experience falls into that same category.

I’m still frustrated and disappointed, but not angry. I am, however, hungry — which is no doubt a contributing factor to my testiness. Unfortunately, I left so early for this service that I had to skip my pre-fast meal, so all I’ve had today is an apple, a turkey sandwich, and some crackers.

It’s well past sundown now. Perhaps I’ll light some candles — it is still Shabbat — do some reading, order a new Thomas Guide, or watch a movie. And, of course, not eat anything.