Ashamnu-"We have become guilty."
My morals waved colorful banners of protest, hurled insults as I slipped away on Friday night, even left me wicked messages on the Rolm phone of my soul on occasion. They were pissed. And rightfully so. With only a handful of months left of my tenure at Columbia University, with only days left until the high holidays as I pen this, the consequences of an oft neglected faith have finally revisited me. The ramifications I dutifully promised to consider later crept up away for a later date, promising to return to like a good book everyone should read? Later is now. Forgive me for I have become guilty. Even worse, I never thought I'd see the day.

Bagadnu-"We have betrayed"
The gradual decay began that Friday night when the fun factor proved a higher variable than the years of rite, training and tradition. I intellectualized my own hypocrisies with a flimsy notion of individual exploration, an even flimsier rationale for a neglect borne of convenience. For who can deny the convenience of an elevator that quick Certainly, a degree of laziness led me here, cupping my hand ever so gently, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, seducing me all too easily away from the semblance of Judaism to which I am reintroduced every Shabbat at home. Forgive me for I have betrayed. Even worse, I did so conveniently and lazily.

Gazalnu-"We have robbed"
Though theft remains one of the few sins absent from my shamefully long list of collegiate guilts, I have robbed. Not necessarily from myself, but from those who may have observed my actions and gleaned some motivation for their own. Though I hardly consider myself the role model of Jews on Columbia's campus, I have coaxed friends from attending Shabbat services, have chided others for not eating the soup, even lauded some for activities that might offend my readers. To whom do I address my apologies? We may have robbed, but I drove the getaway car. The chase ends here. I turn myself in for such impunities. In relinquishing my own religious mores, I embezzled some of yours. Forgive me for I have robbed. Even worse, I did so cloaked as a friend.

Dibarnu Dofee-"We have Spoken Slander"
Of girls who dress scantily. Of boys we avoid and those we do not. Of friends who demonstrate their loyalty, but nonetheless incur our slurs. Of gossip and drunken nights, when loose words drip from our tongues mingled with the beer on tap. Of sober days, when conversation slips from idle talk to mean talk, senseless talk, wasteful talk of girls and boys and friends who deserve better. Each and every day--for not a day passe. Forgive me, friends and certainly the others, for my verbal malice, for casually cheapening your names with my loose words. Forgive me for I have spoken slander. Even worse, I did so casually and loosely.

He'evinu-"We have caused perversion"
I talk a good game of loyalty, commitment and integrity to family and friends. Nonetheless, in all the aforementioned ways (and ways soon to be explained), I perverted those sentiments. Family sometimes meant a round trip bus ride back home, free food and privacy, suburbia and quietude. When my mother picks me up from the bus stop, she greets me with the satisfaction of a mother whose child returns home. And I greet her with a smile, a kiss, and a list of errands awaiting completion, a dinner request, a bill I cannot pay, a need, a want, a smile and a kiss. She deserves more. She earned more. As for the friends who joined my inner sanctum, my even more private parts, I perverted it. Neglecting their needs if they had perhaps neglected my own, I bartered friends as I might notes, or pens, or shirts exchangeable for a better fit. I too often confused human nature, equipped with all the frailties and imperfections of my own nature, with failure to perform.

And worse, on a level I am only examining now after years of avoidance, I perverted my faith. Like smiling away my mother, or bartering away my friends, I evaded Judaism as if in a car chase. Escaping from what I am not quite sure. But there are skid marks on my mind, and the tires of faith are tread, worn, even smell of burnt rubber. Where was my faith when my life took the tailspin? Where was Judaism when I picked up the charred remains of my room, my most coveted possessions, and dumped them in a smoldering heap? Where was Judaism when. ng for me at the corner of 114th and Broadway. It has outstood that vagrant who hits me up for change every morning. Outstood the locked gates, the lost ID's, the freshmen come and gone. I'm making my way back to the familiar solace of Judaism, still unsure why it consoles, but thankful it does. Forgive me for I have perverted my concept of family, friendship, and faith. Even worse, I did so without even an afterthought.

Vi'Hirshanu, Zadnu-"We have caused wickedness, we have sinned willfully"
I smoked sins as I do my cigarettes. They never end after one, especially when they taste better after five. My room reeks with the stale aroma of my sins, here being the assed to enumerate. But imagining them requires little imagination. Outside this room, you no doubt saw me sin, for we sinned together, and I sinned against you. In ways too habitual to enumerate. Together we wickedly and willfully inhaled years of developed morality and blew it off in long clean drags of minimal regrets. And alone I wickedly and willfully chain smoked my sins. In the mornings I wake up alone to that odor. ItŐs in my clothes, on my breath. It has stained my sheets, my walls. I am opening the windows now, groping for the fresh air of my faith to clear my life of this stench. Forgive me, you and me both, for we have caused wickedness, and we have sinned willfully. Even worse, we did so addictedly, compulsively, privately and publicly.

Here begins the litany of my confessions. They are public record. My apologies to those who knew and those who do now.