Tonight begins the Jewish holiday of Yom Kippur, the one day out of the year when I dip any more than my toes into the mikvah of observant Judaism. I’m pretty sure it’s a common practice, a Pascal’s Wager for the culturally Jewish among us. Yom Kippur is the holiest day of the year, the Day of Atonement during which Jews fast, repent, beg forgiveness from God, and ultimately, emerge their slate of sins against the Almighty wiped clean. (It’s worth noting that the holiday doesn’t atone for sins committed against one’s fellow man; that’s why we have Whitman samplers.)

The evening services that begin Yom Kippur are called Kol Nidrei, and I went tonight with my father. It was nice enough–no major revelations or getting of religion, but I was struck by the value of a personification of one’s moral code. It’s hard to adhere to moral principles without a sense of a vengeful, or at least easily disappointed, overseer who you piss off with your violations. It’s all well and good to believe, as most of us do, that you should treat people with kindness and act responsibly and tell the truth, but let’s face it: most of the time if you diverge from those principles, there are no consequences to speak of. I personally lie, covet, deceive, slack off, exhibit irrational resentment, and immerse myself in selfishness virtually every single day, and yet I’ve been more fortunate than 99% of the people alive today. But if you believe–or are willing to buy into a convenient fiction–that there is an omniscient God who is really irked that you’re such a dick, well, that might help pull the strings that lead to deterrence rather than mere retrospective regret. This is hardly a profound insight; in fact, it’s one of the major reasons the concept of a deity was invented in the first place. But sometimes it just makes sense.

The other thing I noticed is that virtually everything that’s fun or interesting is a named sin in a litany in the service. That was a bummer.