By Romi Morales
When I was a child, someone once told me that the history of the Jewish people had shown that we couldn’t always settle and put down roots in one place for long. Time and again, waves of antisemitism would push Am Israel to quickly pack their bags and seek a new path. In that context, a question would often arise: What should we take with us in the suitcase? I remember many of us tried to answer, with ideas that were sometimes creative, sometimes practical. After a while, the group leader asked if she could share her opinion. Of course, we said yes. Her response, though metaphorical, was beautiful. She said: “I believe that Am Israel always packed its holidays in the suitcase.”Sometimes this had a concrete connection—like taking candlesticks or kiddush cups—but even when it didn’t, if there was one thing we never wanted to leave behind, it was those special moments of the year that remind us of our foundational history as a people—moments without which we wouldn’t exist today.
While this is not the first parashah that mentions our holidays, Parashat Emor is the first to lay out a clear order of the annual holiday cycle, including: Shabbat (weekly rest), Pesach (commemoration of the Exodus from Egypt), the Omer count (49 days from Pesach to Shavuot), Shavuot (giving of the Torah), Rosh Hashanah (New Year), Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement), Sukkot (Feast of Booths), and Shemini Atzeret (the festival’s conclusion).
So why is it so important to dedicate an entire chapter to this topic? What messages lie behind this list of holidays? And what takeaways can we, as educators, draw from it? Let’s dive into these questions—come along!
Sometimes the order of things does matter.
Many interpretations have emerged about the holiday list in Parashat Emor (Leviticus 23). One recurring question is: Why is Shabbat mentioned first if it’s not a holiday in the traditional sense? Some say that Shabbat holds the same holiness as the other holidays, even if its origin is different (Rashi). Others suggest that Shabbat represents the ideal model of what any festival should be (Sforno), or that it teaches us the concept of sanctifying time—something essential for sanctifying our holidays.
From an educational perspective, some commentators point out that the order of the festivals follows the agricultural calendar of the Land of Israel: Pesach in spring, Shavuot in summer, and Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot in autumn (Rabbi Sacks). Others see a spiritual development of the Jewish people in this order: Pesach represents freedom, Shavuot our acceptance of the Torah, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur call for introspection and accountability, and Sukkot teaches us to find joy in simplicity and the small things in life (Malbim). Modern educators add another layer: each festival nurtures a different dimension of the human being—Pesach (body), Shavuot (mind), Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur (heart), Sukkot (spirit).
(Re)Connecting Us
Times have changed. Today we can be anywhere in the world and communicate with people from other cultures with just one click. Time and distance have shrunk. Boundaries are increasingly blurred—sometimes it feels like they don’t even exist. Everything changes rapidly, and it seems like there are no longer processes connecting point A to point B. Antisemitism is rising, especially after October 7, and assimilation is increasing around the world. Fewer people attend their local communities, yet everyone still seeks some form of belonging.
In this context, our role as educators is to build, nurture, and strengthen the Jewish and Zionist identity of our children and youth. Not an identity rooted in trauma or victimhood, but one based on strength, courage, and our collective triumphs after every setback.
In a world of virtuality and cloud-based memories, those of us who want to educate need anchors—something that connects the next generation to the past, helps them find meaning in the present, and inspires them to continue this millennia-old journey.
This is where the holidays, especially those in this parashah, become a perfect tool for building that bridge of continuity, for several reasons:
A Personalized Invitation
Some people see holidays as a series of do’s and don’ts. Others see traditions, rituals, a chance to reconnect with family and friends, or a rich source of cultural expression. Our holidays democratize connection with Judaism—everyone can find something that resonates. As educators, making this explicit can spark curiosity: How does this festival speak to me personally?
Spiritual Growth and Wholeness
Holidays offer people a pause in time to reflect deeply and ask existential questions. It takes strength and courage to use festivals as tools for personal growth, but with the guidance of mindful educators, not only is it possible—it’s essential.
Historical and Collective Memory
The holidays provide a shared roadmap, uniting time and space—even after millennia, even in exile. Our collective memory tells us where we come from and where we’re going. Helping children and youth understand that they’re part of something much bigger empowers them to lead and take responsibility for our people’s future.
Ethical and Civic Formation
The festivals listed in this parashah offer a basket of values especially relevant to building fairer, safer societies. The belief in human freedom, the difference between freedom and chaos, the need for law, and the opportunity to take responsibility, ask forgiveness, and repair harm—these are ethical and civic guidelines. Our youth today are socially conscious, but they don’t always know how to act. Maybe our holidays can offer them meaningful ideas.
Natural Connection
The festivals show us that all the social and cultural constructs we’ve created are best appreciated when we understand the deep bond between humanity and nature. If “man is like a tree in the field,” the holidays are a gateway to learning nature’s profound lessons.
In Conclusion
The holidays are a beautiful tool that we must learn to use with sensitivity and intention. Presenting a holiday only as a “monochrome” event is a valid option—but it risks leaving some people unengaged. Presenting it in theoretical terms is legitimate—but some might not be moved to apply what they learn. Performing rituals without context might isolate them from the rest of daily Jewish life.
In my humble opinion, when that special moment of the year arrives and we gather to celebrate, let’s design a colorful educational experience, where doing, feeling, and thinking come together to create a deep and meaningful encounter—so memorable that no matter where life takes them, our children and youth will always choose to carry it with them in their suitcase.
