As I was walking back to my hotel after Kol Nidre after the Yom Kippur evening service and a post-service discussion, a light drizzle turned into a downpour. Lightning flashed, thunder bellowed, and the late-summer cloudburst drenched to the skin.
I could be trite and say that I felt cleansed. Outside, I did. Inside, though, I felt even more the weight of how far I have strayed. I have never in my life felt more strongly the need for Teshuvah.