Shana tova.

Lost and embedded within the micro-world we cultivate ourselves in at Cornell, religion often seems tangential, maybe even irrelevant. This year, as the Jewish high holidays progressed, the same pattern of occurrences I have witnessed for four years transpired. That is, we were so lost within the hustle and bustle of our super-important undergraduate lives that we neglected to consider and plan for the onset of the high holidays.

I am in no way here to criticize or harp. In fact, I am more proud of those who admitted their neglectfulness than those who acted as if they had mentally prepared themselves for these days of observance. How many of us attended Rosh Hoshanah services to be vogue, or to gain brownie points with our parents? How many of us found out about services the day before they were to take place? How many of us learned that our popular Jewish friends were going and say, well, why not?

We spontaneously rally around our sect, rather than giving the high holidays its due diligence and thought.

Many of us do not even mark our calendars in anticipation of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, rather they begrudgingly creep upon us. I do know some diligent Jews who properly marked their dates, adjusted their work and social schedules around services and observance, and really put the time and effort into the New Year (Rosh Hoshanah) and holiday for atonement (Yom Kippur). However, this is not the norm.

I, along with many other Jewish people on campus, do not think about religious teachings often enough to justify going to temple for the sake of it. In fact, I used this as an excuse, along with not wanting to be another social loafing Jew at the Statler, to not attend Rosh Hoshanah services.

I did, however, mark my calendar for the trip home to be with my family for Yom Kippur, more out of the need for an early break from the hectic bustle of undergraduate life than the need to atone for consistently letting my boys down in Halo. This decision, however, led to the realization there is great value in the high-holidays, especially on Yom Kippur when we are required to fast.

As an adolescent I considered Yom Kippur annoying, and its teachings not relatable. After all we spent the day praying in synagogue reading a foreign language while fasting. Furthermore, the rabbis preached of atoning for “sins” as we tightened our bellies. Atoning for sins? At 14? What, is not doing your Latin homework worth atonement?

What about those who rape and kill, who didn’t even bother to show up for temple? The importance of the day was lost on me.

Alas, however, I am here today to preach why the opposite is true.

For most practicing Jews, this is the only day of the year that we fast. For those  who’s religions omit this practice, or for those who believe in nothing, a day of fast can expose your unnecessary cravings and needs. If it turns out that you are addicted to coffee, you involuntarily crave it at 4 p.m. Throughout the day other cravings you have artificially developed manifest themselves.

In actuality, throughout the fast you never need to eat or have a sip of water to survive, that is unless you require an oxygen tank. You don’t actually need anything for 24 hours besides sleep. You are asked not to work on this day, so if your excuse is that you need the energy to do so, then I blame you for not following protocol. But people say that they need to do work, or need coffee. In reality, society has led us to believe we need these things.

Therefore, the day’s value lies in that it actually reveals your involuntary cravings, your small physical and mental dependencies that you have developed over the past year. But in the end you could really blame Starbucks or Marlboro for your lack of fun rather than your beautifully bearded rabbi for delivering nothing but a stellar sermon.

The point is I was thankful for the wake up call. As undergraduates we lead fun, fast-paced lives where issues of family and religion are generally mitigated for four years. But let us not forget to be deliberate and methodical with our decisions, and I do not see the high holidays as an appropriate time to be whimsical.

Rather, if you want, take the time to be with your family for the rare occasion, properly observe at school or leave the day alone. If you get the chance, thank the day, maybe even your rabbi for giving you perspective about what you think you need, and what you actually need. And thank this day for giving you the power of resistance.

I hear many people say that religious observance in our society is waning. I have to agree that my generation may be held responsible for a decline in time spent in prayer. Whether this is sad to you or not is less relevant as understanding the implications of this loss. America is the true secular melting pot, but I fear we will squander these rare moments where we can gain perspective.

After all, will we still have tempered, thoughtful events that require us to spend time with relatives that we never see? It scares me to think that through shirking our religious duties, not only are we losing a guiding voice and a context for our daily interactions, but also that we will lose these other indirect benefits associated with religious practice.

Mathew Sevin is a senior in the School of Industrial and Labor Relations. He may be contacted at msevin@cornellsun.com. You Wanted a Hit appears alternate Wednesdays this semester.