A few days before I started writing the current version of this essay, I had the privilege of hearing Ambassador Rabbi Yehudah Kaploun speak to a group of Jewish student leaders on college campuses. Amb. Kaploun is the Special Envoy to Monitor and Combat Antisemitism in the Department of State. Towards the end of his talk, he spoke about the Shabbat (Sabbath) dinner he hosted in the Department of State, to which he invited foreign officials of all faiths and nationalities. He emphasized the importance of teaching others about Judaism in a way that makes us no longer an “unknown.” Now, I had been stuck on this essay for weeks, writing dry material, searching for the right angle to bring this to life. So, inspired by Amb. Kaploun, I have decided to host my own figurative Shabbat dinner. I am going to review two Jewish practices that are particularly important to me, describing their history and their meaning, with the goal of helping expose Jewish culture. These practices may seem strange, but they serve the purpose of building community and teaching us how to be thoughtful, socially responsible global citizens.
First, as inspired by Amb. Kaploun is Shabbat. Shabbat is first mentioned in the Torah in the second chapter of Genesis. We read that God spent six days creating the world, and on the seventh day he finished and “ceased” the work he had done on the previous six days. In Exodus, the law of Shabbat is described as a day when one should “not do any work” because God also rested from his work on the seventh day and made the day holy. Jewish law codified what it means to work in 39 categories, including plowing a field and building a fire, and modern scholars have interpreted these categories to adapt to the modern world. Some of the practices that are done on Shabbat include the following: lighting candles on Friday night at the start of Shabbat; making a special blessing on wine and two loaves of bread; having hearty, full meals; and saying prayers unique to Shabbat. Some things traditionally not done on Shabbat are: driving, using electricity, exchanging money, and doing activities that are a part of your normal week (school, work).
But really, Shabbat is about slowing down. There’s no rushing to meet a deadline, no stress about being productive. There’s just being. It’s 25 hours when you can put aside the bustle of the week and focus on you and your relationships. We spend time with God and our families, praying and talking, but also build communal relationships by attending synagogue and inviting guests over for meals.
In a world where so many interactions happen through screens and schedules, Shabbat creates a unique opportunity for true connection. Without phones, people become fully present with one another. Conversations last for hours over dinner, parents ask children about what they learned in school, and friends reconnect after a busy week. These small, repeated moments build trust and connection over time. Shabbat teaches us that healthy relationships are not created through grand gestures, but through consistent presence and attention.
Shabbat also strengthens community. Inviting guests into one’s home is not unusual; it is expected. My parents always made an effort to invite visitors or new neighbors over for lunch. Breaking bread with others has long been a sign of trust and friendship, and through that hospitality, we build communities of caring and belonging.
By returning each week to rest, prayer, and hospitality, Shabbat reminds people that relationships require time and protection. It builds communities where people know and love each other. Shabbat teaches us that there is pride in rest, health in empathy, and joy in mutual responsibility.
The next thing I want to share is about the Kippah. A Kippah (skullcap, yarmulke) is a head covering traditionally worn by Jewish men. Interestingly, there is no mention of a law to cover your head anywhere in the Torah or the Talmud. The earliest references to wearing a headcovering in the Talmud come not as laws, but as discrete customs and stories of a few people. Over time, the custom of covering your head became more common and was eventually codified in Jewish legal texts as a sign of reverence to God, starting around the Middle Ages. Since there is no ancient precedent for the law, styles of Kippot (plural for Kippah) evolved differently all over the world and vary greatly in size, color, and fabric.
Aside from being a sign of humility before God, wearing a Kippah also serves two distinct purposes. Firstly, it signals and fosters community, and secondly, it is a reminder of our responsibility to and representation of God and the Jewish People.
For good and for bad, wearing a Kippah is a strong external signal of Jewish identification. On one hand, being so openly Jewish exposes Jews to hatred and negativity in a way that would not happen were the identity less overt. It provides easy targets for hate speech, vandalism, and violence. On the other hand, it is the sign of a powerful community of shared values and history. In seeing another Kippah, Jews find pride, support, and kinship. The type of Kippah one wears can even signal more specific demographic information and community associations within the Jewish world. For example, large, black Kippot are commonly worn by the religious ultra-orthodox, while smaller, more colorful, crocheted Kippot are common in more modern communities. The tight-knit circles built by these distinctions further cultivate Jewish identity.
Being constantly under the threat of being stereotyped or “othered” is a stressful experience for anyone. One common angle of this “stereotype threat” is the idea that an individual’s actions can harm the reputation or perception of other members of their group. This “group-reputation threat”, while taxing, can also serve as a reminder of the personal responsibility we have to other Jews and to God. Wearing a Kippah means taking on the task of representing God and his values to the world. It means we always have to be conscious of our actions and whether they reflect those values in a positive, upstanding manner. That responsibility is daunting, but one to which Jews wake up every day, and don their Kippot, nonetheless.
I could continue down the list of the 613 commandments and write volumes on their beauty and power. I could talk about the words for justice and charity being the same in Hebrew (tzdakah) and what that says about Jewish giving practices; I could talk about how the practice of learning Torah in a group environment teaches young children to think, challenge, and debate critically and respectfully; I could talk about lashon harah (harmful speech), hachnasat orchim (welcoming guests), tikkun olam (repairing the world), and more. But I’ll leave that for you to look into yourself. It drives me crazy that Jews and non-Jews alike speak about these commandments as the archaic practices of our ancestors, in oblivion of their value. Jewish law and culture, which can be perceived as confusing and silly on the surface, holds truths about life, social justice, and even science that were written hundreds, if not thousands, of years ahead of their time. I hope that by bringing these truths to light, people will learn to appreciate how Jewish practices promote prosocial and community oriented values.
