Candles glimmer on the table and challah passes from hand to hand, the loaf dwindles and smiles grow, as the year of 5771 fades away and the new year brightens in our midst.

I look back on a year that was truly sweet and full of blessing. In a time when so many face uncertainty and unfortunate circumstances, I feel truly lucky. This past year I found professional progress, rekindled my love for athletics and competition, met the love of my life, and feel confident in my direction and mission.

This past year I also became less observant, more distanced from the Synagogue, and sharply critical of orthodoxy. And I write this as someone who has grown up in the Conservative tradition, fulfilled Bar Mitzvah and confirmation, studied Jewish history and scripture in college, taught at both the Synagogue and Talmud Torah, and, in my recent past, lived in a quite traditional, dogma-focused manner.

Am I going astray or abandoning my faith, you ask? I argue, no. Religion and faith are personal things, and I am confident in the personal path I have chosen.

That confidence, I will admit, was shaken as I sat in the pews today for the first time in months. In the middle of listening to the Cantor perform a prayer, I had what felt like an existential near-crisis. What if I’m wrong? My mind and soul were racing; a deep churning and wrenching feeling overcame me. What if we die and nothing comes after? What if we die and I’m punished? What if….

Then a new wave came over me. Images of the people, places and experiences I love swept across my ocean of vision. Deep inside, I knew that we are more than just matter, that there is a God, and that we have an important undertaking. I also accepted the doubt, and held on firm with the knowledge that regardless of anything else, I have today to make worth being recorded in the Book of Life, whether it exists or not.

As I write this and envision what I want my own life’s story to be, I now accept that the Torah was written by men. I also advocate that we must not take it literally. For what is scripture, after all, but a beautiful story—the most beautiful story—of humans trying to grapple with the meaning of our existence?

To extract liturgy literally to me now seems anathema to the meaning and purpose scripture holds. Rather than placing its story on us and binding ourselves by orthodox maxims, we should delve into scripture’s lessons and weave the beauty of the story into our own, crafting a tapestry of action that strengthens our sense of self and betters our world.

Returning to the Rosh Hashana service, I looked around the sanctuary and felt emptiness. For me at least, this just wasn’t enough. A Sermon, cantorial and choir performance, and large crowd of once-a-years are all well and good. The Synagogue and thus the religion rely on it. But outside those walls, the world exists. If we are to live up to our storied tradition of God’s creation, then we must live with intention and act with purpose.

Next week on Yom Kippur, rather than fasting and sitting in Synagogue all day, watching a performance of lament, I am planning to go deliver meals and help serve some of the most needy in my community. My fast will be of the pleasure that comes from simply going through my privileged life and ignoring the work that needs to be done. My fast will deprive myself of the comfort that exists when we simply look the other way.

I acknowledge that this is not in keeping with traditional observance of the Day of Atonement. But I am not going to live my life by the dictates of men and social constructions of Religion that in many times and places cause more harm than healing.

And so, rather than hoping for a year of good, resolve to make it one. Instead of (or in addition to) praying for the ability to act with kindness, ignore malice, and right wrongs, determine to culture those qualities in you, and to act on them. Remove the locus of control, blame, and power from the words of men and rest it in your heart and soul.

We are all on a journey, just like the characters in the Bible. So please, do something with that journey, rather than just accepting what is, observing ritual because “that’s the way it’s always been,” and just existing.

As we look to the year ahead, it is my prayer and it is my intention that it will be one of strong faith and positive works. In moments of truth and of doubt, in episodes of good and of hardship, and in feelings of optimism and of despair, I hope we can all recognize the beauty of our tradition’s story and not be limited by literalism, dogma, or orthodoxy. Look inside yourself, look outside at the world, and look forward to acting and making our corner of the world a better place.