Chol HaMoed - The Sacred Space Between the Celebrations — What If HaShem Is Teaching Me to Find Holiness in the Ordinary?
The Days I Almost Missed
I have sometimes thought that the most meaningful moments with HaShem would happen on the big days.
The holy days.
The dramatic moments.
The prayers that leave me trembling.
The celebrations when everything feels spiritually significant.
But then I discovered something I needed to hear: some of the most sacred lessons can happen in the days that feel ordinary.
That realization makes me think differently about Chol HaMoed—the intermediate days within the festivals.
Chol HaMoed can feel like the space between two worlds.
The festival has begun, but it has not yet ended.
The excitement is still there, but everyday responsibilities may return.
There is still holiness, but there may also be laundry.
There is still worship, but there may also be grocery shopping.
There may be family gatherings, meals, travel, conversations, interruptions, children asking approximately 47 questions in five minutes, and a phone that somehow refuses to understand that this is supposed to be a peaceful season.
And perhaps that is exactly where the lesson begins.
What happens when I am called to carry holiness into ordinary life?
Because I have learned that it is easy for me to recognize HaShem in a spectacular moment.
It is much harder for me to recognize Him in the middle of an ordinary Tuesday.
Chol HaMoed challenges that tendency.
It reminds me that my relationship with HaShem cannot exist only in the dramatic moments.
I need to learn how to walk with Him in the spaces between.
What Is Chol HaMoed?
The Hebrew phrase Chol HaMoed is commonly understood as “the ordinary days of the appointed time” or “the weekdays of the festival.”
It refers to the intermediate days of certain biblical festivals—particularly Pesach and Sukkot—that fall between the opening and concluding festival days.
These days are neither completely ordinary nor identical to the most sacred festival days.
They exist in between.
And I find that fascinating.
Because so much of life happens in between.
I live between prayers.
Between promises.
Between beginnings and endings.
Between what HaShem has done and what I am still waiting for Him to do.
Between grief and healing.
Between uncertainty and understanding.
Between the wilderness and the promised destination.
Between the miracle I remember and the miracle I am still asking for.
Perhaps Chol HaMoed speaks directly to that place.
I Used to Think the “In-Between” Was Wasted Time
I confess that I have often treated the in-between seasons of life as interruptions.
I want the answer.
I want the breakthrough.
I want the resolution.
I want the promise fulfilled.
I want to know what happens next.
Waiting can make me restless.
Uncertainty can make me uncomfortable.
And ordinary days can feel almost disappointing after a spiritually powerful experience.
But Scripture repeatedly teaches me something different.
The wilderness mattered.
The journey mattered.
The waiting mattered.
The preparation mattered.
The ordinary obedience mattered.
When Israel left Egypt, the Exodus was dramatic.
There was blood on the doorposts.
There was deliverance.
There was the sea.
There was unmistakable evidence of the power of Elohim.
But Israel's story did not end at the sea.
They had to walk.
They had to learn.
They had to trust.
They had to receive Torah.
They had to become a people.
The miracle was spectacular.
The transformation was gradual.
And I think that is where Chol HaMoed speaks to me most deeply.
A miracle may change my circumstances in a moment, but walking with HaShem changes me over time.
The Torah Gives Me a Pattern for Sacred Time
When I look at the Torah, I see that HaShem intentionally established appointed times.
Leviticus 23 describes the appointed times of Adonai.
These are not merely dates on a calendar.
They are reminders.
They interrupt ordinary life and tell me:
Remember.
Remember who redeemed you.
Remember who called you.
Remember who sustains you.
Remember that time itself belongs to HaShem.
In Deuteronomy 16:3, Israel is told concerning Pesach:
“You shall eat no leavened bread with it; seven days you shall eat unleavened bread with it, the bread of affliction—for you came out of the land of Egypt in haste—that you may remember the day when you came out of the land of Egypt all the days of your life.”
That phrase stays with me:
“that you may remember.”
Memory is spiritual work.
I can become so focused on what I still need that I forget what HaShem has already done.
Chol HaMoed gives me an opportunity to slow down and remember.
The Festival Is Not Just About What Happened Then
One of the greatest dangers I face spiritually is turning biblical remembrance into historical information.
I can know what happened without allowing it to transform me.
I can know the story of the Exodus without remembering that HaShem is still faithful.
I can know the words of Torah without allowing Torah to shape my decisions.
I can celebrate redemption while still living as though I am completely abandoned.
That contradiction is uncomfortable.
But perhaps it is necessary for me to confront it.
Do I remember HaShem only when I need something from Him?
Do I remember His faithfulness when circumstances become difficult?
Do I allow the story of redemption to change the way I live today?
Chol HaMoed invites me to move from remembrance into practice.
Then I Look at Yeshua
When I read the Gospels, I see Yeshua moving through Jewish life, Scripture, festivals, synagogues, homes, roads, meals, crowds, and quiet places.
He did not separate spiritual life from ordinary life.
He taught about the Kingdom of Elohim while walking.
He taught while sitting at meals.
He taught through conversations.
He noticed people others overlooked.
He prayed.
He wept.
He rested.
He traveled.
He ate.
He attended festival gatherings.
And He repeatedly brought spiritual truth into ordinary human circumstances.
That challenges me.
Because sometimes I unconsciously divide my life into two categories:
“spiritual” and “everything else.”
Prayer is spiritual.
Worship is spiritual.
Reading Scripture is spiritual.
But cooking dinner?
Work?
Driving?
Shopping?
Cleaning?
Having a difficult conversation?
Caring for family?
Making financial decisions?
Resting?
Surely HaShem cannot possibly care about all that.
But the teachings of Yeshua continually pull me back toward a different understanding.
Yeshua Taught Me to Look for Heaven in Ordinary Things
Yeshua often used ordinary objects to explain extraordinary truths.
Seeds.
Bread.
Lamps.
Coins.
Sheep.
Farming.
Vines.
Children.
Meals.
Doors.
Fields.
Water.
I love that.
He could take something completely ordinary and suddenly make me see it differently.
A mustard seed could teach me about faith.
A lamp could teach me about visibility.
Bread could point me toward deeper spiritual realities.
A shepherd could reveal something about care.
A vineyard could teach me about fruitfulness.
In other words, ordinary life became a classroom.
That makes me wonder:
What if Chol HaMoed is also a classroom?
What if HaShem is teaching me not only through the festival, but through what happens between the festival moments?
The Sacred and the Ordinary Are Not Always Enemies
I sometimes assume that holiness means escaping ordinary life.
But perhaps holiness means learning how to live faithfully inside ordinary life.
Yeshua said:
“If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me.”
— Matthew 16:24
Following requires movement.
And movement requires ordinary days.
I cannot follow someone only during a festival celebration.
I have to follow Him when I am tired.
When I am disappointed.
When nobody notices.
When the answer has not arrived.
When I am doing something repetitive.
When I have to forgive.
When I have to apologize.
When I have to begin again.
That is where discipleship becomes real.
Chol HaMoed and the Problem of “Spiritual Highs”
I have experienced moments when I felt incredibly close to HaShem.
Then life happened.
The emotional intensity faded.
The music stopped.
The gathering ended.
The special meal was over.
And suddenly I was back in ordinary life.
At first, I might interpret that emotional change as spiritual failure.
Maybe I did something wrong.
Maybe HaShem is distant.
Maybe I lost something.
But I have learned that emotion is not the same thing as faithfulness.
I do not need to feel overwhelmed every morning to be faithful.
I do not need goosebumps to know HaShem is near.
I do not need every prayer to produce an emotional experience.
Sometimes faithfulness looks incredibly ordinary.
It looks like getting up.
Praying anyway.
Choosing kindness.
Speaking truth.
Keeping my word.
Forgiving someone.
Opening Scripture when I would rather scroll endlessly through my phone.
Choosing gratitude when circumstances tempt me toward bitterness.
That may not feel dramatic.
But it matters.
“Abide in Me” — The Secret of the Ordinary Day
In John 15:4, Yeshua says:
“Abide in Me, and I in you.”
That word—abide—speaks to me.
Abiding is not a one-time event.
It is ongoing.
It is remaining.
It is staying.
It is continuing.
I do not abide in Yeshua only when I am celebrating.
I abide when I am waiting.
I abide when I am working.
I abide when I am grieving.
I abide when I am uncertain.
I abide when I am joyful.
I abide when I am exhausted.
The spiritual life is not built only from mountain-top moments.
It is built through thousands of small decisions to remain connected to HaShem.
Chol HaMoed Teaches Me That “In Between” Does Not Mean “Forgotten”
There are seasons when I wonder:
“Where is HaShem in this?”
I may not be experiencing a miracle.
I may not have received an answer.
I may not understand what He is doing.
But Scripture reminds me that silence does not mean abandonment.
Psalm 46:10 says:
“Be still, and know that I am Elohim.”
Sometimes I want HaShem to explain everything.
He sometimes invites me to be still instead.
That is difficult.
Stillness leaves room for questions.
Stillness exposes anxiety.
Stillness removes distractions.
Stillness forces me to admit that I do not control everything.
And perhaps that is precisely why stillness can become holy.
What I Do With the Days Between the Miracles
I have learned to ask a different question.
Instead of asking only:
“When will HaShem change my circumstances?”
I can also ask:
“Who is HaShem shaping me to become while I wait?”
That question changes everything.
Perhaps the waiting is developing patience.
Perhaps the disappointment is teaching me compassion.
Perhaps the unanswered prayer is teaching me dependence.
Perhaps the ordinary routine is teaching me discipline.
Perhaps the delay is exposing an idol I did not realize I had.
Perhaps the quiet is teaching me how to listen.
Perhaps the “in-between” is not wasted at all.
Perhaps it is preparation.
Chol HaMoed and the Sukkah of My Life
Sukkot gives this theme another beautiful dimension.
A sukkah reminds me that life is temporary.
Psalm 90:12 says:
“So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”
That verse makes me pause.
I do not have unlimited days.
I cannot postpone living faithfully until everything becomes perfect.
I cannot say:
“I'll seek HaShem when life settles down.”
Because life may never completely settle down.
There will always be another responsibility.
Another bill.
Another conversation.
Another unexpected problem.
Another appointment.
Another notification.
Another load of laundry mysteriously appearing after I just finished the previous one.
Life keeps moving.
So I have to learn to meet HaShem here.
Not someday.
Here.
The Wilderness Was Also a Classroom
Deuteronomy 8:2 tells Israel:
“You shall remember that HaShem your Elohim led you all the way these forty years in the wilderness, to humble you and test you, to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep His commandments or not.”
I find this passage both comforting and challenging.
The wilderness was not proof that HaShem had forgotten Israel.
He was leading them.
The wilderness was difficult, but it was not meaningless.
And sometimes I need to remember that a difficult season can still be a guided season.
I may not understand the road.
I may not like the road.
I may wish the road had been shorter.
But I can still ask:
“HaShem, what are You teaching me here?”
When the Ordinary Day Tests My Faith
It is easy to say I trust HaShem when everything is working.
But ordinary life reveals what I actually believe.
How do I respond when someone frustrates me?
How do I speak when I am angry?
What do I do when nobody is watching?
How do I handle money?
How do I treat people who cannot benefit me?
What happens to my faith when the prayer remains unanswered?
What happens when I am tired?
What happens when I am disappointed?
These moments may not look religious.
But they reveal the condition of my heart.
Proverbs 4:23 tells me:
“Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it spring the issues of life.”
That makes me want to pay attention.
A Practical Chol HaMoed Practice: Turn Ordinary Moments Into Reminders
I do not want Chol HaMoed to become merely something I know about.
I want it to become something I practice.
So I can begin by intentionally connecting ordinary moments to spiritual remembrance.
When I eat
I can pause and thank HaShem for provision.
When I travel
I can remember that my life is a journey, not merely a destination.
When I work
I can ask whether my conduct reflects the character of someone walking with Elohim.
When I rest
I can remember that I am a creature, not the Creator.
I do not have to carry the entire universe.
HaShem already does that.
When I feel anxious
I can stop and remember:
“Be still, and know that I am Elohim.”
— Psalm 46:10
When I feel forgotten
I can remember Isaiah 49:15:
“Can a woman forget her nursing child, and not have compassion on the son of her womb? Surely they may forget, yet I will not forget you.”
When I feel overwhelmed
I can remember Yeshua's invitation:
“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
— Matthew 11:28
That is not merely a verse I admire.
It is an invitation I can actually accept.
I Don't Have to Manufacture Holiness
This has become one of my favorite lessons.
I do not have to make every moment feel profound.
I do not need to force spiritual emotions.
I do not need to turn every ordinary experience into some dramatic revelation.
Sometimes I simply need to be faithful.
The holiness may be found in the faithfulness itself.
If I prepare a meal with gratitude, that matters.
If I encourage someone who is discouraged, that matters.
If I refuse to retaliate when I am hurt, that matters.
If I choose honesty when dishonesty would be easier, that matters.
If I forgive, that matters.
If I pray when I do not feel like praying, that matters.
If I open Scripture again after a season of spiritual dryness, that matters.
The ordinary becomes meaningful when I bring my heart before HaShem.
What Chol HaMoed Can Teach Me About Waiting
I have discovered that waiting is not necessarily passive.
Waiting can be active faith.
Noah built.
Abraham journeyed.
Joseph endured.
Moses returned to Egypt.
Israel walked through the wilderness.
David waited for the fulfillment of HaShem's promises.
Again and again, Scripture shows me people who continued walking while waiting.
That changes the way I understand my own waiting.
I do not have to know exactly when the next chapter begins in order to be faithful in the current one.
I can walk while I wait.
Five Questions I Ask Myself During Chol HaMoed
I find these questions especially helpful when I want to move beyond simply observing a festival and actually allowing it to shape me.
1. What has HaShem already done that I have forgotten?
Sometimes my greatest spiritual problem is not lack of blessing.
It is poor memory.
2. Where am I demanding an immediate answer when HaShem may be developing my character?
I may want resolution.
HaShem may be producing maturity.
3. What ordinary responsibility can become an act of faithfulness today?
I do not need a dramatic assignment.
I can begin with what is already in front of me.
4. Where have I separated my “spiritual life” from my everyday life?
I can invite HaShem into my conversations, decisions, work, relationships, finances, rest, and responsibilities.
5. What would change if I truly believed HaShem was with me in the in-between?
That question may be the most important one.
Key Takeaways: What I Want to Remember
- Chol HaMoed reminds me that the days between major celebrations still matter.
- I do not have to experience dramatic spiritual emotions to remain faithful.
- The wilderness can be difficult without being meaningless.
- Waiting can become a season of spiritual formation.
- HaShem's presence is not limited to extraordinary moments.
- Yeshua teaches me to recognize spiritual truth in ordinary life.
- The goal is not merely to celebrate redemption but to live as someone who has been redeemed.
- Remembering what HaShem has done strengthens me when I cannot yet see what He will do next.
- I can bring holiness into ordinary responsibilities through faithful obedience.
- The “in-between” is not necessarily an interruption. It may be where transformation happens.
My Chol HaMoed Challenge
This year, I want to resist rushing through the intermediate days.
I want to pay attention.
I want to notice the conversations.
The meals.
The quiet.
The laughter.
The inconvenience.
The unexpected moments.
The opportunities to serve.
The moments when I become impatient.
The moments when I become grateful.
Because perhaps the real question is not:
“How can I make these days feel more holy?”
Perhaps the better question is:
“How can I become more aware of HaShem within these days?”
That changes the entire experience.
I do not have to manufacture His presence.
I simply need to become attentive to it.
When the Festival Ends
Eventually, every festival ends.
The sukkah comes down.
The special meals are finished.
The gatherings conclude.
The calendar moves forward.
And I return to ordinary life.
But I do not want to leave the spiritual lessons behind.
I want to carry them with me.
I want Pesach to remind me that HaShem redeems.
I want Sukkot to remind me that life is temporary and dependent upon Him.
I want Torah to remind me how to walk.
And I want the teachings of Yeshua to continually call me toward faithful, humble, compassionate living.
Because perhaps the greatest evidence that a festival has touched my heart is not how emotional I felt during it.
Perhaps it is how differently I live after it.
The Holiness of the Ordinary
I began by thinking about the days I almost missed.
The days between.
The days that seemed less important.
But now I see them differently.
Chol HaMoed reminds me that HaShem is not interested only in the spectacular chapters of my story.
He meets me in the middle.
He walks with me through the ordinary.
He teaches me in the waiting.
He shapes me in the wilderness.
He reminds me through Scripture.
He calls me through Yeshua.
And He invites me to remain faithful when nobody is applauding.
Maybe that is why I find Chol HaMoed so beautiful.
It tells me something my impatient heart desperately needs to hear:
The middle matters.
The waiting matters.
The walking matters.
The ordinary matters.
The days between the miracles matter.
And I matter to HaShem even there.
Isaiah 43:2 gives me words I can carry into every uncertain season:
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you.”
Notice what the promise does not say.
It does not say I will never encounter water.
It does not say I will never walk through fire.
It says:
“I will be with you.”
And sometimes that is the miracle I need most.
Not simply that HaShem will take me out of the in-between.
But that He will walk with me through it.
Reflection: Where Am I in the Story?
I invite myself—and anyone reading this—to sit quietly with these questions:
Where am I right now: beginning, ending, wilderness, waiting, celebration, or somewhere in between?
What am I asking HaShem to change?
What might He be asking me to learn?
What blessing have I become so accustomed to that I have stopped noticing it?
What ordinary responsibility could become an act of worship?
Am I willing to trust HaShem even when I cannot see the next chapter?
What would it look like for me to walk with Yeshua today—not merely admire Him from a distance?
And perhaps the deepest question:
Can I believe that the days that feel ordinary to me may still be sacred to HaShem?
Closing Prayer
Avinu Malkeinu,
I thank You for the appointed times and for the wisdom You have woven into Your calendar.
Thank You for teaching me that I do not have to live only for dramatic moments.
Help me recognize Your presence in the ordinary.
When I am celebrating, keep my heart humble.
When I am waiting, keep my heart faithful.
When I am walking through uncertainty, keep me from believing that You have abandoned me.
When life feels repetitive, remind me that faithfulness in small things still matters.
When I am impatient for the next chapter, teach me to receive the chapter I am living now.
Help me remember Your faithfulness.
Help me walk according to Your ways.
Help me listen to the teachings of Yeshua and allow them to transform how I treat You, myself, and the people around me.
Let the Ruach HaKodesh lead me into greater wisdom, obedience, compassion, courage, and shalom.
And when I find myself somewhere in the middle—between what You have done and what I am still waiting to see—help me remember:
I am not forgotten.
I am not abandoned.
I am still being led.
And the middle of the story is still in Your hands.
B'shem Yeshua. Amen.
