The lack of ritual makes Yom Kippur's power elusive for many. How do we make meaning from the holiest but most daunting day on the Jewish calendar? By Rahel Musleah My friend Anat dreads Yom Kippur. Fasting makes her grumpy, and by morning she already has a headache. Nor does the synagogue setting encourage atonement, meditation or self-reflection for her. As a nonobservant Jew, she says, "my relationship with God is such that I can't even begin to atone for what I do—nor do I want to. What's left are my relationships with other people, and I try to take care of those on a daily basis." Still, says Anat, the strong aura of the day, redolent of childhood and community, draws her to spend Yom Kippur in the synagogue. "If this is a holy day I'll treat it as such and stand with others around me. Every year I think about the millions of people who are doing exactly what I am doing on Yom Kippur. It doesn't matter how secular I am. This is my commitme
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