I have to tell you about something really weird that happened to me on Yom Kippur. I mean, like really weird.

I had first started fasting when I was six years old. The first year I skipped my snack before bed, which is kind of hard when you’re six. I think I broke down and had a little snack—maybe a few grapes. At eight I skipped breakfast, and last year I made it all the way to the middle of the afternoon before I went home and had a bowl of Cheerios.

This year I decided that I was going to fast the whole Yom Kippur. I mean, I’m having my bat mitzvah next year, so I’m going to have to fast then anyway. And my teacher, Rabbi Katz, told us that we should try to if we could. So I figured I would give it a shot.

The night was totally easy. Even until lunch I think I was doing okay. But in the middle of the afternoon I started feeling hungry. And thirsty, really thirsty. And a little weak. During the afternoon break from the davening I went home with my mom and we played Chinese Checkers and Life. That kind of took my mind off of how hungry I was. But then we went back to shul for Mincha, and I really started to feel weak. My stomach felt like it had a hole in it. I didn’t know why, but I started having a craving for a Devil Dog. I don’t even like Devil Dogs so much, but at that moment, it was all I could think about. That didn’t really help the whole hungry thing.

I thought about stopping my fast. I knew that the children’s group leaders had food for anyone who wanted, downstairs in the synagogue social hall. A nice oatmeal cookie or a cold glass of apple juice was sounding pretty good right about then, but I decided to tough it out. I even stood for most of Ne-ila, even though I was feeling pretty weak.

My father told me I was looking “a little green around the gills”—whatever that means—but I made it. I fasted the whole Yom Kippur for the first time ever. It kind of felt good.

That’s when I made my big mistake. I know, you’re going to think I’m a big dope. But at that moment it didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

So like I already told you, I was really hungry. And really thirsty. The chazan was making havdalah, and suddenly I developed a strong urge to drink some of the grape juice from his kiddush cup. It was the first chance I had to drink something, and I planned to take it. And I love grape juice. So sweet, so wet, so purple, so delicious.

I snuck into the men’s section of the shul while all the men were putting away their kittels and folding their talleisim, and right after the chazan finished havdalah I grabbed the silver cup. I drank the whole thing in like one gulp. It was definitely wet and purple, but it wasn’t so sweet, and it definitely wasn’t delicious.

So I guess you already figured it out. It wasn’t grape juice. It was Manischewitz Extra Heavy Malaga. Nasty stuff. But it was too late to do anything about it. I had drunk the entire cup of wine. And on an empty stomach, no less. Major league bummer.

At first my stomach started to burn. Then I felt a little nauseous. Then the dizziness set in. But even though my father suggested I should, I did not vomit. I just didn’t want to. It’s just too gross for words. I was determined to keep the wine down. As much as I wasn’t enjoying what I was feeling, I knew I would like the vomiting even less.

We all piled into the car to go home, me, my dad, my mom, and my brother Simon. And that’s when things got really weird.

I was sitting in the back seat of my Dad’s car with my head back, looking out the rear window, and that’s when I saw it. It only lasted a moment, but that was enough.

For just a second, while I was staring up at the night sky, I could swear I saw, by the light of the moon, a group of angels going up to heaven. It was as clear to me as anything I’ve ever seen, and it was amazing. They were going up in the sky, wings and all. I thinked I actually gasped.

My mother asked me if I was okay, and I tried to describe to her what I had seen, but she just smiled at me like I was being silly. My brother suggested that it was the wine talking and that all I was describing was a reflection of the moon’s light in a thin cloud cover. But I know the truth.

Rabbi Katz told our class that at the very end of Yom Kippur, when the shofar is sounded, that moment is the closest Hashem comes to the Jewish people. God is right there in the room with us, and that shofar blast symbolizes God’s presence nearby.

I guess what I saw was Hashem’s angels packing up and going back to the heavens after judging the Jewish people for those Ten Days of Repentance from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur. They were going back to their base for a well-earned vacation. That’s the best explanation I can come up with.

The rest of the night was spent eating with my family. When we got home I had a bowl of mushroom barley soup, a glass of orange juice and a bagel with lox. My nausea and dizziness were gone in a few minutes, but my angelic vision stayed with me for much longer.

I can’t say I’m a changed person because of what I saw. I still go to school and hang with my friends pretty much like I did before. Let me just say that next year, I’m definitely going to take the end of Yom Kippur much more seriously.

Oh, and I’ll never drink wine again. Ever.

Larry Stiefel is a pediatrician at Tenafly Pediatrics.

By Larry Stiefel