
Yom Kippur for Littles
Mandie Greenberg
Yom Kippur for Littles
As a child, I always looked forward to the Fall Feast, also known as the High Holy Days, because it meant that I would get extra days off of school. Each year, I would explain to my friends that I was Jewish, which meant that I had special holidays that they didn't. Whether I was in private Christian school or public secular school, the announcement was always met with a mixture of awe and jealousy. Any excuse to not be in school was a good one. But I'd also face the repeated question: "What's that?"
So, young Mandie came up with this explanation for Yom Kippur:
"Well, essentially it's a day where all the Jewish people make themselves feel bad so that we can say sorry to God once a year instead of making animal sacrifices all year long. Especially now that we don't have a main temple in Jerusalem."
The reactions to this varied from: "Cool!" to "Oh that's weird. But at least you get a day off!"
Most of my friends didn't realize that Yom Kippur wasn't supposed to be fun or enjoyable. It was supposed to be awful. I thought we were supposed to suffer. Most of the time this meant fasting. Over the past 30 years, we've done fasting of all kinds: food and water fasts, Daniel Fasts, sugar fasts, caffeine fasts, talking fasts, book fasts, media fasts, phone fasts, secular music fasts, technology fasts... everything you can think of! And no matter what, breaking the fast was always the most exciting and relieving part of Yom Kippur. Whether it was finally eating or getting back to a video game, the moment the thing we denied ourselves was back, we rejoiced.
Which kind of seems like the wrong thing to celebrate, doesn't it? Well, hold on to that thought.
As believers in Yeshua, we know our sins have been forgiven for all eternity. We know that our atonement has been supplied though Him! So, why keep up with the affliction of Yom Kippur? Well, the Scripture says that it's a statute for all our generations. Forever. So, we keep it up because God told us to. Remember! Yeshua came to fulfill the law, not abolish it.
It took until I was nearly twenty to realize that instead of spending the day looking forward to breaking my fast, I should spend that time being grateful for my Salvation through Yeshua's death and resurrection! But until I was in my late teens, I just didn't get it. I participated because I was supposed to. I fasted because it was what my parents told me to do. Honestly, I just liked the notoriety of telling my school friends that I had fasted the day before and survived it. Or getting online after sundown on Yom Kippur with an apology to my internet friends for my absence all day and hearing their consolations for my suffering. Looking back, it seems really silly.
As an adult, the Scriptures are plain and easy to understand.
ADONAI spoke to Moses, saying: “However, the tenth day of this seventh month is Yom Kippur, a holy convocation to you, so you are to afflict yourselves. You are to bring an offering made by fire to ADONAI. You are not to do any kind of work on that set day, for it is Yom Kippur, to make atonement for you before ADONAI your God. For anyone who does not deny himself on that day must be cut off from his people. Anyone who does any kind of work on that day, that person I will destroy from among his people. You should do no kind of work. It is a statute forever throughout your generations in all your dwellings. It is to be a Shabbat of solemn rest for you, and you are to humble your souls. On the ninth day of the month in the evening—from evening until evening—you are to keep your Shabbat.”
- Leviticus 23:26-32 TLV
Clearly this observance is supposed to be meaningful. But how to we impart this lesson to our children? How can we help them participate whole-heartedly without that begrudging obligation? How do we teach our children the value of patience, self-control, and humility without over-inflating the act of fasting or the party that comes with breaking said fast?
We teach it by doing it. We do it repeatedly, consistently, and happily. We show them that humility can be paired with happiness, patience with peace, and self-control with serenity. Just because we are afflicting ourselves, it doesn't mean that we have to be upset about it. Being solemn doesn't mean that we have to be despondent.
So, obey the command: REST. Take a long walk with your little ones and relish creation. Take a nap. Read Bible stories with them. Let your mind relax and release the chaos of the world. Watch the clouds. Sit on your porch and drink tea. (Unless that's what you're fasting, that is.) Play pretend. Color, draw or paint! There are hundreds of ways to rest. You just have to find the right ones for you and your family. But the key is including them!
Now, obviously, we don't condone fasting food for children or expectant/new mothers. But there's a way to observe Yom Kippur and be afflicted for everyone. Pray about the best option for you and your family. For instance, at the Greenberg-Kelley house, all screens are unplugged during Yom Kippur. As someone who can't fast food for medical reasons, fasting all technology and screens and media is the best option. But my five-year-old son won't entirely understand it. Which is why we spend most of the day outside, playing at the park. We rest our eyes and our minds while we meditate on God.
Later, when your chosen fast is complete, sit your little ones down and explain to them that we do this because God asked us to. Obeying God's commands is like giving your mom or dad a hug. Giving hugs is a way to show people we love them. We obey because we love Him, not because we're scared of what's going to happen when we don't. Then, ease into breaking your fast with simplicity and gratitude! Whether you do it as a nuclear family, an extended family, or a community, spend your time together giving thanks for God's faithfulness throughout all our generations.
Great is ADONAI, and greatly to be praised —His greatness is unsearchable. One generation will praise Your works to another and declare Your mighty acts.
- Psalms 145:3-4 TLV
Mandie Greenberg