I knew that one day I would just have to explode. Which I did, on the shabbaton

As told to Devorah Grant

Igrew up knowing that my parents were cool. At least, that’s what everyone told me. My friends thought so, and my relatives did, too. And of course, our guests always did. The guests with all their weird and wonderful ways — the guys with their ponytails, earrings, and tattoos. The women with their nose rings, bleached hair, and ripped jeans. Yeah, my family is officially “in kiruv.”

We actually don’t live in some remote location, with cows and goats and sheep. We do in-town kiruv, really in town. How does Central London sound to you? My parents rub shoulders with the bigwigs of the Jewish world, the ones who are rich, famous, and often searching for something deeper. And that’s where my parents come in. With their incredible warmth and cheer, and their loud, welcoming voices, my family is the hero on the scene, learning with them, teaching them, feeding them — both physically and spiritually.

So that’s how I grew up — with people streaming in and out of our home all day, with men learning with my father in the living room and Mom advising women in the kitchen. Not quiet and peaceful, but beautiful all the same. Yet the funny thing is, you know how when you’re young, you think that whatever you experience is “normal”? But then, as you grow up, you begin to notice differences, subtle and not so subtle, between your own family and others’. That’s what happened to me.

When I was very young, the guests were a huge excitement. Shabbos was a massive affair, with 30 to 50 people at each meal, devouring the warm, homemade challah, chicken soup, and of course my mom’s famous apple pie. It was fun to run around talking to the different people, hearing about their lives and how they had ended up in our house and at our Shabbos table, of all places. The guests loved me and my siblings, too. They’d tell us jokes, ask us riddles, and some of the regulars would even tell us a story or two. And all was good.

But then, as time went on, the charm started to wear off.