Mark Rubin Writes stays away from religion, mostly. (When politics and religion mix, though, staying mum requires effort. And when a certain Supreme Court justice—last name rhymes with President Obama’s oldest daughter’s first name—manages to find in his particular form of textualism religious rights never mentioned in the Constitution, look for steam coming out of a certain person’s ears!)

Anyway, as I write it is Erev Yom Kippur, the start of the Jewish Day of Atonement, aka the Holiest of Holy Days. The one day in the year when I cannot avoid touching on faith, broadly.

What to write, which is not generally a challenge for me? I need to finish quickly as the sun is over the yardarm,

Believe it or not, I used to be a pro football fan. Really! I can still conjure up the image of my dad picking me up in June 1969—I was 12—and telling me Joe Namath was retiring. Devastating news!

The retirement came about when NFL Commissioner Pete Rozelle ordered Namath, then 26, to sell his interest in a singles bar. The conversation went like this, thereafter:

Namath:  No!

Rozelle:  Do it!

Namath:  I quit!

A month or so later, Joe Willie sold the bar interest and returned to football.

I recall football pools for years at my old law firm, watching games every week. Yes, I cared about winning money, but I really did enjoy the games.

On September 21, I wrote about Vaccinations (Not) and Rage! Then, just yesterday, I punted on comments about irritants from the world around me, focusing instead on Days of Awe. And, truly, until late this afternoon I thought I would pull my punches for a few days. But …

So what had me riled up? Enraged, really? Well, three things. First, there was latte-gate. The President of the United States got off Marine One—the helicopter we provide for his use—and, holding a paper coffee cup in his right hand, saluted a soldier. Fox News went ballistic, and maybe this will finally get someone to file the lawsuit against President Obama, for it is hard to imagine a more significant

We’re one day into 5775, the year—in the Hebrew calendar—which began about 24 hours ago, at least for my local readers. In English Rosh Hashanah means head of the year. It’s also the beginning of the Days of Awe, which is one cool description for the 10-day period between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. (The same period is also called the High Holy Days, but Days of Awe has captured me.)

The Hebrew calendar is a lunar calendar, which requires periodic adjustments. I’m sure plenty of Talmudic scholars spent many lives figuring out how to keep things on track, more or less. There are certain date parameters for the Days of Awe on our Gregorian calendar.