We are nearing the end of the most important and intense cycle of holidays in the Jewish calendar: from Rosh Hashanah to Simchat Torah, a three week period of repentance, introspection, atonement, and celebration.
At this time of the year, especially, I recall moments of great meaning from my childhood. Most prominent in my memory (not surprising!) are family meals during the holidays at the home of my Aunt Sylvia and Grandmother Frieda (my bubbe). There I was surrounded by the foods of my Eastern European ancestry—kishke (ask your grandparents if you don’t know what it is—not for vegans!), potato kugel, chopped liver, gefilte fish, honey cake, brisket, chicken neck skin stuffed with cornmeal (helzel). You want a side garnish? Shmaltz (chicken fat)—never fails.
Even better than the delicious food was the joy of being surrounded by my family: aunts, uncles, and cousins. I felt safe and at home—the greatest blessing imaginable.
I remember the evenings when we would light the Yizkor candles. I once asked my Bubbe what and who they were for. She pointed to each candle and told me the name of the loved one we were remembering—parents, grandparents who were no more and beloved siblings who perished at the hands of the Nazis.
This year right before Yom Kippur, I lit the Yizkor candles in the presence of my family. I felt a deep sense of gratitude as I thought about the loved ones who made my life possible and, by extension, the lives of my children and grandchildren. As I saw the glow of the Yizkor candles reflected in the faces of my grandchildren, I felt the presence of all of the generations that came before. Now, especially, I am grateful for their lives, for the ones whose shoulders we stand upon as we give thanks for our blessings and endeavor with all of our might to bring honor to their names.
— Cantor Nathan Lam