I am doubtless unqualified to preach on the High Holy Days of Judaism, but I am hardly qualified to preach on Christianity either, and that never seems to stop me! I do not pretend here to offer you any full and learned exploration of Jewish faith and practice, but rather just a few comments that struck me this year as our brothers and sisters of the Jewish faith, the faith that gave birth to Christianity, "the rock from which we were hewn" as Scripture says, as they honor and observe their Ten Days of Awe, which began last Tuesday with Rosh Hashanah and will end this Thursday with Yom Kippur. The Valley Section of last Monday's AZ Republic showed two devout fourth-grade Jewish girls eating apples dipped in honey, and the caption noted that it was a traditional food for Rosh Hashanah, symbolizing the hope that the new year will be a sweet one, bringing sweet things into the lives of the faithful. It caught my interest, and so I pulled a few old volumes from my shelves, all dating back what seems like a hundred years ago when I took two courses at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York while I was studying for the priesthood at the General Theological Seminary of the Episcopal Church. I forgot just how beautiful and poignant and spiritually helpful Rosh Hashanah is for Jews, and may well be for us as well. Much of the Festivity is like our secular New Years—a new year begins, a new year with all its wonder and its worry, all its promise and its unknowns, begins, and at that very moment, at that beginning, people of faith, whatever faith, seek to set out on the inviting but uncertain year in the belief that whatever unfolds our God will be with us. As the days build, these Ten Days of Awe, toward their climax and fulfillment next Thursday, Yom Kippur, Jews take special time and pay special attention to remembering, vividly recalling, those who have been nice to them, as well as those times and situations that seemed nice and good and pleasant. A kind of litany or inventory of all that is right and good and pleasant in their lives, the happy things that happened in the past year which they had forgotten. We do that as well, recall happy times, But often we devalue the happy memory: "Oh, that was nice, yes, but that was long ago," we may sadly say. I wonder if we can perhaps imagine Jews saying: "Nevertheless—call it to mind, and do more than remember it, relive it in your minds and let it rejoice your spirit once again. Make a deliberate, concerted, consistent, holy and devout attempt to bring back to mind all the nice things, the nice days, the nice surprises, above all the nice people who did nice things for us. Remember, and rejoice and thank God." But as the days build to Yom Kippur, the great Day of Atonement, when Jews regret their sins and seek to depart from them forever, so in these days ahead our Jewish friends will be focusing more and more on how they rewarded nice people with less than nice comments or thoughts. I wonder if perhaps we could join them in all of this. We too could, in these days, now begin to remember with more discomfort then apple-and-honey sweetness all the people we ourselves were not nice to, especially regretting those times when we were not nice to people we dearly love and treasure. We can join our Jewish cousins as we regret and repent, and seek to put that sorrow and that meanness behind us, and to move ahead, into a new year (or, for us, a new cycle of time) resolved to do better, and no longer crippled and cursed by what we did wrong. It is a new year—that other stuff is over. I am not sure the Jews actually do this during the Ten Days, but it seems all of us might resolve to repent not only the things we remember and recall in shame and embarrassment, but also spend time regretting and repenting all the wrong we cannot remember, feeling sorry for all the things we did that we did not, at the time, realize were hurtful or unkind, and then be sorry for those times we were almost inadvertently nasty, but nasty nonetheless - unhelpful, hurtful, dismissive, or unresponsive, all the times and chances to be nice that were missed, and are now not even remembered or were not, at the time, even realized or noticed. The Psalmist this morning speaks of just such a time and just such a thing: "Who can tell how often he offends," the Psalmist worries, and then begs God to "cleanse me from my secret faults." We have a very similar admission and prayer to God in our Sacrament of Private Confession. After a full recitation to a priest of all that troubles the Penitent, all that he or she has done wrong, the Penitent then adds "and for all those sins which I cannot now remember, I am truly sorry, and I pray God to have mercy on me." How often I have watched in anger and disgust as some crook says in court, "Well, I do not recall." You know they recall and they are just trying to get out of it, but not in a way that will make it all the worse for them when it is proven that they did, in fact, say or do the things they "cannot recall". Well, on a higher, more exalted, more lofty and decent level, we can join Jews in their Ten Days of Awe and ask forgiveness for all we cannot genuinely recall, as we do in our rite of private confession. We could ask that God will take away our secret faults, even though we ourselves have no real idea, any more than the Psalmist did, of how often we have offended. We are not Jews, and so must not pretend to observe Rosh Hashanah, as I hope Jews do not pretend to observe the Nativity of our Lord. But Jews do celebrate Christmas-time with presents and family visits and love shared and received, and so I think it is fine for Christians, while honoring and revering the Jewish festival that is part of their faith and not ours, to observe much of what is honorably observed at Rosh Hashanah to our own spiritual benefit. That Psalmist was Jewish, but he is our Psalmist now as well. Jesus of Nazareth was raised in a Jewish home observing Jewish Festivals, but he is our Lord now, even while we honor that faith "out of which Messiah came" as our great Marian hymn puts it. So then, let us eat some apples in honey and make a serious effort to compile an inventory of all the nice things that were done for us since last September, and remember and regret the unkind things we did or thought, the people we hurt, and then modestly ask God to take away all the secret sins, the ones we cannot even remember. And then let us set out, not exactly on a New Year – it is not that for us – but set out in a new way with a new joy and a new commitment and a new appreciation of people. Let us with wonder and joy and gratitude recall the sweet things of this last year and hope and pray and believe that the new year will bring more sweet things. And for the not-so-sweet things that will surely happen? Well there is God, and our faith, for all of that.