I’d like to take some liberty with an old ad campaign for a bread company and suggest you don’t have to be Jewish to observe Yom Kippur.

I find that the Day of Atonement has a universal appeal.

It’s when Jews across the world conclude a 10-day period known as the High Holy Days, during which we are to reflect, resolve and repent for our past indiscretions. It’s when we search deep inside our souls to recognize the sins committed against others. And attempt to atone for those sins.

How do we do that?

With prayer. We do a lot of praying. And we seek forgiveness from those we have wronged.

From sundown to sundown, beginning on Friday, Oct. 11, we will fast, deny ourselves of many of life’s basic pleasures, and yes, do a lot of praying.

Hey, no one said it was easy.

Really, how effective would atoning for your sins be if you mumbled under your breath to no one in particular: “I’m sorry what I did to you. I promise to be nicer this year. OK?”

Then you finish your lunch.

Seems a bit shallow, right?

Unlike many other holidays on the Jewish calendar, the observance of Yom Kippur has a much more somber tone. It doesn’t have the growing commercialization of Hanukkah or the popular family traditions that mark Passover. And yet I consider its message of renewal one that can bring real joy to those who take it to heart.

I don’t mean this the wrong way, but there isn’t anyone walking on the planet — Jew or Gentile — who can ask themselves, “Have I been the best person I could be this year?” and come away completely satisfied with the answer.

Not if they’re honest.

We could all use a good cleansing.

And I don’t mean the kind where you pay to have someone to stick a tube in you and turn you into a human irrigation system.

The cleansing I’m talking about is a lot less invasive, but just as satisfying.

Talk to someone. In person. On the phone. Even email is a step, although texting is really weak. And let’s all agree that twittering for forgiveness is out.

The beauty of Yom Kippur is that while we must seek forgiveness, we must also be willing to accept forgiveness.

How cool is that?

Folks often question my observance of Yom Kippur.

“So, you don’t eat? Don’t drink? Can’t watch TV?”

I tell them it’s a bit more involved than that, but yeah, that’s what I deny myself. Give up watching the game — no matter how big it is. I don’t miss the food. It actually feels good. But by mid-morning, I’ll kill for a cup of coffee.

What I find hardest about observing the Day of Atonement is not what I deny myself, but what I have been denied. That is the chance to seek forgiveness from those who are no longer around to accept. I can’t change that.

But what I can do is reach out to family or friends who became lost, either because of time or petty pride, who question how I could back Kamala Harris and how Democrats don’t support Israel.

How did we get to this point?

Have we lost all ability to move along the political process, to debate the issues, without having to degrade, dehumanize and denounce those with a different opinion?

I’m a Jew. And a Democrat. I’m someone who believes in God. And I support the state of Israel but not the leaders running its government. I want the killing to stop and the hostages to come home. 

My choice for president will not be based on my faith. Or party affiliation. Certainly not on how much I pray to God.

But I do pray that this country begins to come together.

I think we all could use a Day of Atonement.

Barry Lewis is a longtime journalist and author who lives with his wife Bonnie in the Town of Neversink. He can be reached at      barrylewisscdemocrat@gmail.com.