I Used to Dislike Yom Kippur. Here is Why That Has Changed.
When I was younger, Yom Kippur was a holiday I dreaded.
My family would spend the majority of the day at our synagogue where I would listen to prayers in a language I knew nothing about, and instead of paying attention, I would sit in the back row playing card games with my brother. While I would eat whatever I wanted after temple, my parents kept reminding me that they were fasting, but to me, this meant nothing.
In the Jewish culture, it isn’t until one has his or her Bar or Bat Mitzvah at the age of thirteen that one must fast, but in the years leading up to my Bat Mitzvah, I would prepare for when I did need to fast by only having a small snack in the afternoon. Like any nine-year-old, I would complain that I was hungry and annoy the rest of my family, but all I could think about was going to my Bubby’s house (term for grandmother in the Jewish culture) in Bayonne, New Jersey to officially “break the fast” and stuff my face like there was no tomorrow. I knew that Bubby would not let us down because she would always consult with me a week before, and make sure I gave it the stamp of approval. If it wasn’t for Bubby, I would not have learned to love this holiday.
After our long day at synagogue, it was time for my absolute favorite part of the day: Bubby’s house. Not only was this a way to bond with my family, I was also able to connect to my religion in a special way like every other Jewish family around the world. As soon as we walked into her house, Bubby’s ugly Kelly-green carpet would flash my eyes, but I knew I was at the right place. Looking around, I would also see the endless picture frames of my mother and her family growing up, as well as the great view of the busy Avenue C, and it felt like my second home. Arriving at Bubby’s house took my mind off the pain I had experienced earlier in the day.
Bubby’s homemade dishes are truly one-of-a-kind, and she knows how to find the key to my heart in her go-to meals. Her kugel is the perfect mix of sweet and savory; noodles mixed with cottage cheese, ricotta cheese, and sour cream is undeniably one of the best tastes ever, and topping it off with cinnamon makes it even better. This started out as a food I was hesitant to try, but when my family first started having our Yom Kippur traditions, I fell in love with it. Bubby’s mandel bread also hits the spot when nothing else will. Although most times after dinner I am stuffed, these crispy cookies are exactly what I need when I still want a little bit of dessert, and while everyone in my family differs in how they like theirs baked, Bubby has learned how to satisfy everyone.
“Bubby,” I said one year during our “break fast” meals, “Where did you learn to perfect these dishes?,” as I was curious about her background. “Well, my own mother grew up in a Jewish household where embracing our cultural dishes was valued. These dishes were a major part of my childhood, and they have always stuck with me as meaningful.” She continued explaining how she bonded over these dishes with some of her close friends from Jewish day school, and even exposed my mother to these special plates.
To outsiders, it may seem like my “break fast” dinners on Yom Kippur are just times I spend with my family, however, it is so much more than that. People face the pain of their wrongdoings by not eating for about 24 hours, and the moment of “breaking the fast” is to celebrate people learning from their mistakes and repent for one’s sins. From the many years I have celebrated with Bubby, the comforting feelings at the dinner table are almost palpable, and it makes the fast worth it. Over the years, I have developed a special connection to Bubby’s kelly-green carpet, beige oval tablecloth, and most importantly, her happiness to see us dwelling in her home, and they are all vivid memories that make this holiday memorable.
Although celebrating Yom Kippur at college has prevented me from sitting at the actual dinner table with Bubby, she will never let me down. Eating mandel bread she mailed in a container to my dorm room while on Facetime with my parents and Bubby in New Jersey is a satisfactory alternative. When thinking about my Yom Kippurs with Bubby for over the past ten years, I am immediately reminded of the delicious smells that fill the whole house and the comforting feelings I experience from our “breaking the fast” tradition.
I know when I am celebrating Yom Kippur with my own family, I will always think back to my positive experiences with Bubby and I will celebrate it the way she would have wanted me to- with a lot of food and a lot of love.
