How American Jews Find Meaning on Yom Kippur From 200-mile treks to synagogue to spiritual striving, readers share the rituals that define Judaism’s holiest day for them. Yonah Lempert Luecken, of Homer, Alaska, drives more than 200 miles the day before Yom Kippur to attend services at Congregation Beth Shalom in Anchorage. Sept. 20, 2026 Updated 1:59 p.m. ET The biblical command to observe Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish calendar, is straightforward. “This shall be to you a law for all time,” the Book of Leviticus declares. “You shall practice self-denial and do no manner of work … for on this day, atonement shall be made for you to purify you of all your sins.” In some ways, Yom Kippur, which begins on Sunday evening, has stayed remarkably consistent across the centuries. Many Jews continue to mark the day by fasting, engaging in introspection, seeking forgiveness or committing to self-improvement.

By some counts, fasting on Yom Kippur is the most observed American Jewish ritual after the Passover Seder. But today, the holiday presents challenges that ancestors of American Jews could never have imagined — from choosing between in-person and online services to navigating coffee withdrawal. We wanted to hear about what Yom Kippur looks like in 2026 for those American Jews who choose to mark it.

So we asked Times readers and others to tell us about their experiences, receiving hundreds of responses and conducting dozens of interviews with people across the country. Here’s what we learned. Many spend all day in synagogue, even when it’s hard.

People go to great lengths to observe Yom Kippur, but few go as far as Yonah Lempert Luecken. A 58-year-old resident of Homer, Alaska, she drives more than 200 miles the day before the holiday to attend services at Congregation Beth Shalom in Anchorage (website: frozenchosen.org). After arriving, she makes an obligatory Costco run, then has a final pre-fast meal of local sushi.

In recent years, Ms. Luecken has begun chanting the Book of Jonah for the congregation. The biblical story, which tells the tale of a recalcitrant prophet who flees from God and is famously swallowed by a fish, is traditionally read on Yom Kippur afternoon. Jonah appeals to Ms. Luecken not just because she shares a name with “that slacker prophet,” but because “I think that a lot of people, myself included, have gone through phases in their lives when they were selfish.” Image Isaac Himmelman in Manhattan on Wednesday.

On Yom Kippur, he said, “I can step outside everything in my life and think about my relationship to God and the things that are truly meaningful to me.” On the other side of the country, Isaac Himmelman will be wearing special sneakers for the trek to his Brooklyn synagogue — but not because it’s particularly far away. Rabbinic tradition prohibits not only bodily pleasures on Yom Kippur, but also luxuries like leather footwear. And so Mr. Himmelman, a 38-year-old Modern Orthodox filmmaker with a “Hasidic orientation,” laces up a dedicated pair of neon Nikes.

For Mr. Himmelman, the holiday is about much more than these trappings, however. “Growing up, I mostly focused on the prohibitive nature of the holiday: I can’t do this, this and this,” he said. “But as I’ve gotten older, the prohibitions have taken a back seat to the privileges of the day.” During the rare respite, “I can step outside everything in my life and think about my relationship to God and the things that are truly meaningful to me.” You make meaning wherever you are. Not all Jews who observe Yom Kippur do so in synagogue. Last year, Penina Crocker, a 27-year-old Boston resident, was cycling from Portugal to Singapore and decided to spend Yom Kippur on a silent meditation retreat in northern Thailand.

She expected a more philosophical experience, and so was surprised when participants were invited to prostrate themselves before a statue of the Buddha. “On Yom Kippur itself,” she said, “I thought that would be a little much.