BINTEL BRIEFMy dear friends’ wedding is on Yom Kippur. How do I reconcile my obligations?
Bintel says don’t take the scheduling personally — and skip the buffet
What to do when you promised to go to a wedding that’s scheduled for Yom Kippur? Illustration by AI/Canva/Beth Harpaz
By Beth Harpaz September 4, 2024
A Bintel Brief, Yiddish for a bundle of letters, has been solving reader dilemmas since 1906. Send yours via email, social media or this form.
Dear Bintel,
Two of my close friends are getting married next month; they’ve had a really long engagement so they could get the perfect venue for fall foliage, which they booked two years ago. I even booked my accommodations a year ago to avoid spending a fortune during peak season.
The problem: I just realized their wedding weekend is on Yom Kippur. They are not Jewish, so I don’t expect them to have checked their dates against our holidays (even if I wish that they had), and I get that wedding dates are competitive. Now I feel stuck — guilty about either attending the wedding or missing it.
I’m not super religious, but Jewish observance is important to me in my own ways — one of which is Yom Kippur. It’s my favorite holiday. Unpopular opinion, I know, but I love the prayers, I love the melodies, I love the all-encompassing nature of fasting for the day and turning off my phone. It’s one of the things that grounds me in my connection to Jewishness. Even when I haven’t been able to make it to synagogue, I always managed to at least fast and set aside contemplative time.
But the welcome dinner for this wedding is during Kol Nidre, and the ceremony is mid-afternoon on Yom Kippur day. While the bulk of the reception will be after sunset, it’s hard to imagine how I can meaningfully observe the holiday while participating in the celebration. It’s still going to occupy the majority of the holiday.
I don’t really feel like not going to this wedding is an option; I don’t want to miss my friends’ special day, and it would be deeply hurtful, especially after they’ve assumed I’m coming for the last two years. But I also don’t want to feel like I’m abandoning a piece of myself.
Signed,
Conflicted by Yom Kippur
Dear Conflicted,
Yom Kippur falls this year on the Shabbat of a long weekend, when a lot of folks get Monday off from work or school for Columbus Day/Indigenous Peoples Day. The secular holiday combined with lovely fall weather makes it a natural date for scheduling events. I was also invited to a gathering that weekend, and the organizer was taken aback when I declined and predicted no-shows among our Jewish friends.
I salute you for taking the high road and recognizing that it would be inappropriate to be personally insulted by the oversight, especially since you yourself failed to check the calendar. I also salute you for not making a fuss once you realized the dilemma; after all, it’s the couple’s big day, and their choice of a wedding date need not revolve around your needs. Besides, there’s nothing to be done about it now.
You say that staying home is not a real option. Fine, though it’s worth saying it’s never as big a deal as it seems to say “no, thank you,” to someone else’s major life event, even when you’re BFFs. Several close friends skipped my wedding and my sons’ b’nai mitzvah for various reasons, which I accepted without discussion and without offense. I myself have declined wedding invites because I couldn’t afford the airfare, hotel and time off from work, or because something else in my life took priority. When the relationships were important enough, I found ways to celebrate with them another time.
But let’s get to your core question: How do you manage the day logistically and emotionally, balancing your own needs and being present for the couple?
Let’s start with missing the services that you love. Consider this alternative: My Jewish Learning has put together a guide to online services in time zones around the world. Why not figure out a time where you can sit by yourself for an hour or two, before or after the main wedding events, and tune in to one of those livestreams? You could choose from London, where Kol Nidre would take place five hours ahead of the U.S. East Coast; Sydney, Australia, where it would be 14 hours ahead; or time zones across the U.S. Some synagogues archive services on their websites or Facebook page, allowing you to watch whenever it’s convenient. It wouldn’t be the same as being in shul with others, but it would allow you to engage with the melodies, prayers and meaning of the holiday, either in your hotel room or sitting quietly under a tree.
Should you tell the couple? Personally, I wouldn’t. Why inflict guilt over your dilemma? They didn’t cause it and they can’t fix it. The only reason to share would be to suss out whether any other guests are similarly conflicted, in which case you could gather together discreetly, before or after the big event, and recite prayers as a group.
It sounds like some but not all of the wedding food will be served while you are fasting, but I’m sure you already know it’s no big deal to abstain from eating when those around you are indulging. I’m one of those secular Jews who fasts on Yom Kippur without going to services; I’ve often worked on the holiday (though not at the Forward, since our offices are closed) and I’m not bothered by folks chowing down at the next desk. If anyone asks why you’re not eating (how rude, but they might), you can either smile and shrug, or ’fess up, depending on your comfort level. Anyway, it’s wedding food; skipping limp blini with three dots of roe, a watered-down signature cocktail and a bland hunk of salmon is no big loss if it comes to that.
I hear what you’re saying about the vibe. But as long as you’re there for the ceremony and toasts, no one will question why your chair is empty if you head to a quiet spot for a bit. Weddings are about the couple; nobody cares who else is on the dance floor or whether, once you lift your glass, you drink the bubbly.
Maybe I’m looking at this through rose-colored glasses, but to me, there’s something sort of beautiful about your dilemma. What it means is that you’ve forged meaningful relationships both with Jewish practice and with people who aren’t Jewish and who treasure your company. Given the lack of diversity in so many of our workplaces, schools and neighborhoods, I’d say this is something to celebrate.
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