A Reflection on the Difficulties of Observing the High Holidays at Bryn Mawr

When I was a kid, I, like most children, had an overwhelming desire to fit in. There is a distinct memory I have of going to my dad at 10-year-old to complain about how our family did not celebrate Christmas while all my friends did. I was separated from them, and I did not like that. I had asked him if we could celebrate Christmas too. My dad had said no. He told me that the most important part about being a Jew was the aspect of not quite fitting in — we assimilate to the point of becoming almost completely American, he said, and yet we diverge in some key points in the year — this feeling of being left out was what made me Jewish. At the time, I did not realize that growing up as a Jewish kid in Brooklyn, being one of probably 20 other Jewish kids on my block, I was not really being left out. In fact, the first time I ever felt truly isolated as a result of my Judaism was this past High Holiday season at Bryn Mawr College.

Since being at Bryn Mawr, I have learned that a great number of both students and professors do not know what the High Holidays are. While I have respect for any person willing to openly learn about another culture, when a person’s ignorance of another culture impacts my personal life, such as making me choose between observing a sacred day or performing well in school, I take offense.

The High Holidays denote a sacred time of year of Jews during the Autumn season. It consists of two holidays, which are eight days apart: Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish New Year) and Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement). These are two religiously meaningful days during which observing Jewish people to go to synagogue for a large portion of the day and abstain from work from sunrise to sunset.

The High Holidays have always been important to me. The idea of not going to synagogue on Rosh Hashanah seems foreign and weird; the idea of not fasting on Yom Kippur feels wrong and abnormal. Growing up in New York, it was always easy to observe these holidays. Not only is there a large Jewish population so I felt as though I was not in a minority by observing, but classes did not meet in order to accommodate those observing these sacred days. In fact, most sacred days of the year had classes off: including the Chinese Lunar New Year and Eid al-Fitr.

When I first arrived at Bryn Mawr College, I was shocked to learn how classes met on both the days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The shock later dissolved when I realized that 18% of the school is Jewish. Brooklyn is the most Jewish borough of New York City, the most Jewish city in the U.S. It’s different than my environment growing up, but with only a few hundred students celebrating, I figured that it wouldn’t make sense to give the entire day off for the few students observing the holiday. It did strike me as odd, however, that fall break would happen only a week after Yom Kippur. It would have made more sense to just push fall break back a week so students observing Yom Kippur could go be with their families. If I am being honest, I would not be surprised if the question of Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah were never even considered by the administrators when they put together the calendar for the academic year.

Soon, I learned that most professors also did not consider the High Holidays when putting together their academic calendar. Taking two days off of school to observe Rosh Hashanah set me back significantly in class, and it took a week for me to catch up, even after I gave my teachers a two-week notice. Midterm week, I soon learned, came at the same time as Yom Kippur: I had some courses in which midterm exams were given on the day of Yom Kippur and others given the day after. Some professors were so unaware of what the High Holidays were that it become common to hear the phrase “Happy Yom Kippur” during the week leading up to the holy day of atonement and forgiving past sins.

Some professors did give me extensions of essays and quizzes scheduled on the day of Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur, though none did of their own accord, I always had to prompt them and usually educate them on why I was missing class. Some told me to hand in my work in a faster manner, shortening my deadlines rather than extending them. Some of my extensions were a mere three hours after sundown on the day of Yom Kippur. The high holidays became an overwhelmingly stressful time in which I had to reorganize all of my classes just so I could comfortably observe them. There was no system set up that just simply allowed me to be Jewish.

This High Holiday season, I spent time working. I did not go to services on Yom Kippur; there was no way to manage my workload with the few accommodations given to me by professors and administrators. I spent most of the holiday frantically writing essays and studying for midterms. So, even after all the reorganization I had done, all the emails I had sent, and all the early work I had handed in, I had, in the end, failed to properly observe the holiest days of the year. I truly believe there is no easy way to be Jewish at this school. It seems to me that neither the administration nor professors care about making accommodations for Jewish students, or, frankly, any student that has a different religion from the typical student: specifically, time off for the commercial holidays of Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Year, and so on seems to be the only thing this school concerns itself with.

I find it strange that Bryn Mawr prides itself as a beacon of progressive thought, while simultaneously ignoring any student who does not fit its historic norm. If Bryn Mawr wishes to be diverse, then they must make the sacrifices that ensure diversity can flourish. Accepting students of different religious or cultural backgrounds does not mean much if the school does not allow them to prosper once here. If the college truly wishes to be diverse, it must leave behind the old standards that once applied to the school and change the framework of the college. They must have an academic calendar not based on the Christian calendar but based on the students. Holy days must be given off, not just Jewish ones, but all religious and cultural ones.

Changing the calendar would be a simple start, but a significant one. Being diverse does not just mean having a student body representing multiple backgrounds: it means having an environment in which all cultures can easily exist — this requires actual change.