In high school, Chol HaMoed meant Six Flags or Hershey Park. It was the big social event, filled with running into camp friends, laughing too loud, taking pictures that felt like proof we were still connected.
After seminary, it shifted. I tagged along with my friend’s family, squeezing into a minivan packed with matzah, cream cheese, and snacks that somehow never quite filled us up. We went boating, went to Disney Parks, and the magic of being out in the world while still inside the holiday stayed with me.
Today, Chol HaMoed looks different again. It’s about the kids. Taking them to the local jumping place, the orchard, or up to the mountains for air that feels fresher somehow when it’s wrapped in Yom Tov. It’s less about who I’ll see and more about how we can savor the time together.
And that’s the beauty of it: Chol HaMoed lives in the in-between. It isn’t the full pause of Yom Tov or Shabbat, but it isn’t an ordinary weekday either. It’s permission to step into the world to ride boats, to hike trails, to buckle kids into car seats while still carrying the glow of the holiday with us.
That “in-between” is what makes it special. It’s the reminder that life isn’t only holy in extremes. Sometimes it’s holy in the middle, when you’re eating matzah in a theme park or peeling clementines on a mountain.