A Bucket List for the Chagim

The fall chagim (the period during which we observe Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Simchat Torah and Shemini Atzeret) are almost over, and that means it is time to determine how many tasks you may now cross off of the first-ever “Chagim Bucket List.” 

I know the following isn’t as exciting as a real bucket list filled with exotic travels and great romance, but I consider each one of the items below a small win. And I will give the reader who accrues the most points at the end of this column a complimentary gift basket filled with still-unripe pomegranates.

The fall chagim (the period during which we observe Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Simchat Torah and Shemini Atzeret) are almost over, and that means it is time to determine how many tasks you may now cross off of the first-ever “Chagim Bucket List.”

Let’s start with Rosh Hashanah: 

You knew what new year it would be in the Jewish calendar without the need to resort to Google (1 point).

You informed your employer, your child’s public school, your psychotherapist, and/or your own family that the Jewish High Holy Days were approaching and you would need some time off, specifying the exact dates based on this year’s Jewish calendar, rather than the one from 2023 (2 points). 

If you are Sephardic or Mizrahi, you only had to look up the many types of symbolic foods, or “simanim,” that are served during your Rosh Hashanah seder twice because each year, you always forget one or two … or three (1 point). 

You are a Jew of North African descent and delighted in touching the eyeball on the fish head when it was time for the blessing to be at the head, and not the end/tail, of the year (3 points).

You agreed to pay $5.99 for one lousy pomegranate that turned out to be sour and, like your children’s career choices, completely underwhelming (2 points).

You did not discuss heated politics at the Rosh Hashanah seder table (5 points). 

You arrived at the synagogue early enough to secure a prayer book, but just late enough to arouse mystique over where you had been all morning (3 points).

Yom Kippur 

You carefully mapped out everything you ate and drank before the fast to ensure your fast was as smooth as possible, and that meant only consuming four cups of coffee instead of the usual nine (1 point). 

Several minutes before the fast began, you held your breath and reluctantly applied a slow-release caffeine suppository (5 points). 

Your last meal before the fast consisted of more than a snack bar and last night’s energy drink (2 points).

You did not discuss heated politics at the Yom Kippur pre-fast meal (5 points).

You managed to stand for the chazzan’s entire repetition of the “Shemoneh Esrei” prayer, five times. By the time Neila services ended, you could not feel your legs, but you better had been redeemed and forgiven (4 points). 

The thought of food — any food — only crossed your mind seven or eight times, rather than the standard 15 or 20 times during even nonfast days (1 point). 

You committed your first sin an hour after Yom Kippur ended, rather than within the first five minutes (4 points).

You did not discuss heated politics at the Yom Kippur break-fast meal (5 points).

Sukkot

You erected a sukkah without throwing out your back, or most of your back, at least (2 points).

You kept your promise to your wife not to use last year’s wrinkled, brown etrog, though you still don’t see anything wrong with it (3 points).

You cooked an unbelievable amount of food, fed the ones you love with your warmth and care, and only burned your hands twice (4 points).

You managed to sleep all night in the sukkah, despite the advice of your allergist, your chiropractor and the local news weatherman, who predicted a 98% chance of heavy winds and rain. Your nose is currently too stuffy to allow you to smell the sweet scent of the etrog, but you braved the wilderness at night and plan on telling every friend and relative about your harrowing experience (2 points).

While inside the sukkah, you realized that you never needed a house with real walls anyway, and almost committed yourself to a life of backpacking across America. That is, until you remembered your incurable fear of the outdoors, ants, and losing funds in your Roth IRA over an extended period of time (3 points). 

You did not discuss heated politics inside the sukkah, even though there were moments when you wished you could have hit one or two of your guests over the head with a large palm frond (5 points).

Shemini Atzeret

You can correctly explain the meaning of this holiday and why it is celebrated. Yes, you absolutely knew that this holiday existed and what it means (1 point).

You begrudgingly began praying for rain during the second blessing of the Amidah prayer, even though you’re well aware that your 80-year-old roof can’t withstand even a few more inches of rainfall. You’re also hesitant to pray for rain from now until Passover because your knees and elbows ache more when it rains (3 points). 

You promised yourself that after all of these wonderful holidays, you’d lay off the challah for at least one month. You’re even looking forward to the return of salt with bread after all that gloriously decadent honey.

Simchat Torah

You did not throw out your back trying to hold up the heavy Torah scrolls when they were removed from the ark. Instead, you threw out your back dancing on a flimsy plastic table after 10 others climbed up there and joined you during “Hakafot” (1 point).

You bid just enough on the “Hatan Torah” (the final aliyah in the cycle of Torah reading) to truly express kindness and charity before G-d, but not enough to leave you in so much debt so as to consider robbing a few convenience stores while lenient Los Angeles District Attorney George Gascón is still in power for a few more weeks (4 points).

You did not discuss heated politics while dancing around the Torah. At least, not until you were sure you had had enough whiskey to confidently declare that this country is definitely headed in the right ideological direction (5 points).

After everything that has happened this past year, and after asking yourself countless times how you could possibly access the “simcha” (“joy”) in Simchat Torah this year, you still managed to feel twinklings of happiness, and if nothing else, gratitude, in those small moments that make everything in life worth the pain. And the points earned by completing that particular task are always infinite. 

Chag Sameach.

Tabby Refael is an award-winning writer, speaker and weekly columnist for The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles. Follow her on X and Instagram @TabbyRefael.