"I never really suffered." A friend told me this while enjoying a hamburger at dinner the other night. We had been discussing the classes we were shopping, and she explained why she had trouble appreciating a certain course that I intend to take: Lit and Arts A-70, "Job and the Joban Tradition." When she had taken the class she found that the book of Job, which includes a powerful meditation on injustice in the Universe, deals with concepts that, fortunately, are foreign to her: namely, pain and suffering.

I am glad to say that I too am thoroughly unacquainted with the world of suffering. Growing up in a comfortable suburban home, I was raised on the belief that hard work and integrity of character guarantees success and reward; and the belief held true. I now find myself enjoying the freedom of college life. All my needs are provided for, and my only obligation is to continue to work hard as I have done in the past.

When I read of Job's anguish, how he lost his home, all of his children and finally his health, I realize that my worries are laughable. Sure, I've been upset at times. I vividly remember the despair I felt last spring when I learned that my blocking group was quadded; I did not, however, feel the kind of pain that prompted Job to cry, "Perish the day when I was born." Not by a long shot.

But these are the things that we worry about here in our comfortable college. We worry that we'll be placed in a cramped double; that two great courses are offered in the same time slot; that we won't break the mean on the first chem midterm. These indeed are trivial worries of students who have no real troubles. We have our health, friends and family; we have every reason to be happy. One might say, in fact, that we resemble Job as he first appears, as prosperous and content, before tragedy strikes.

This is a scary thought in the season of Yom Kippur, when, according to Jewish tradition, our fates and fortunes for the coming year are determined. The prayers we recite on this holiest of days do not speak of housing lotteries or exam groups. "On Yom Kippur judgement is sealed: who shall live and who shall die: who shall rest and who shall wander; who shall be comforted and who shall be tormented," reads one of the more poignant prayers of the day. We are reminded that there are important and genuinely frightening life issues that we sometimes lose sight of in our daily routine.

But Yom Kippur is not meant to simply scare us out of our wits. The day carries an inspired message of personal redemption. After reciting the above passage about this fateful day, the congregation exclaims, "But repentance, prayer and charity cancel the evil decree." We can control destinies if we take a good look at our-selves and at the way we act towards others.

We should take this message to heart as we begin a new academic year. Now is the season to be more considerate of our friends and classmates, to even apologize for a wrong we may have committed in the past. It is also the season of Phillips Brooks House fairs and sign-ups for the many opportunities for community service that the college has to offer. One needn't be a first-year to undertake these options for the coming year. We're all starting off fresh, inventing ourselves anew, turning over a new leaf.

We should look beyond the apprehension we feel as we face the upcoming year; the new season will bring us opportunities to seize, clubs to join, friends to make. In short, our future is what we make of it. Job, after his intense soul searching, regained all that he had lost. Perhaps by next year, after some self examination and important choices we'll end up even better off than we are now.