Just like you were curious about incorporating Kabbalistic concepts — and just like I always emphasize the importance of finding meaning in our prayers and rituals — minhagim (customs) add a kind of spice that enhances our religious and spiritual experience. They’re not just filler or fluff; they enrich the texture of Jewish life.
Take, for example, the Yehi Ratzon prayers on Rosh Hashanah — they help us shift toward a more hopeful and optimistic outlook, instead of defaulting to the classic “angry God” narrative. Or think about the minhag to fast on certain days — it’s not just about abstaining from food, it’s a pause from the chaos of life, a reminder that we are still in a kind of exile, and that there’s still a yearning for deeper connection with God. Even the minhagim at the Passover Seder — songs, symbols, and rituals — create lasting memories for our children and tie the family together in a shared story of survival, redemption, and divine presence.
Minhagim are not just old habits — they carry emotional, communal, and spiritual weight. They awaken layers of meaning that halachah alone may not fully express. If we strip them all away because they’re inconvenient, we risk making Judaism feel dry, mechanical, and uninspiring — especially for the average person who thrives on those experiential and emotional layers to stay connected.
Now, to your last point — yes, there are generally two categories:
1. Minhag Kadmon – ancient customs from the time of the Gemara (over 1500 years ago), often deeply rooted in halachic thinking.
2. Later Minhagim – developed more recently, in the post-Talmudic era.
Practically, Minhag Kadmon usually carries more weight, sometimes even to the level of near-obligation (ke’ein din). Later customs are still meaningful, but may be more flexible depending on the context, the community, and the individual’s spiritual journey. That said, even recent customs can become deeply binding when they take root in a community.
All that said, it is still just a minhag, and should be treated as such. We most certainly don’t want someone who isn’t feeling well, who is going through a hard time, or is just not in the mood, to feel pressured into keeping a minhag that ends up upsetting them rather than enhancing anything. The general rule of thumb should be: if it’s positively affecting you — do it. If it’s not — absolutely do not do it.

Also I heard you say in your podcast that there are two kinds of Minhagim.

1. Minhag Kadmon (1500+ years ago, mentioned in the Gemara
2. All Minhagim that are 1500 years ago and newer

Also practically is there a difference between the two types in terms of level of importance?

At the same time, our halachic system is structured in levels: De’Oraita (Biblical law), Derabanan (Rabbinic law), and Minhag (custom). Minhag is unquestionably less binding than the others—just as Derabanan is less binding than De’Oraita—though some may treat it otherwise. But the reality remains: Minhag is Minhag.

Take Tzom Gedalia, for example. Many people don’t fast on it, for various reasons. The same is true for other minhagim—people can choose to set them aside when there’s a need. It’s not the same as halachah. And yet, some people try to elevate minhag to the status of halachah. But let’s be honest: no one says halachah is equal to minhag. It’s always the other way around—trying to bring minhag up to that level, often in response to people ignoring them altogether.

That’s the message—they want people to take minhagim seriously, and rightly so. They are important. But the nature of minhag is such that there’s built-in flexibility. If someone isn’t comfortable, or the situation calls for it, it can be set aside. That’s not the case with halachah—whether De’Oraita or Derabanan. Those are obligatory.

I remember as a kid, I used to say: if God really wanted us to keep all the mitzvot, He should’ve just made them all minhagim. I don’t know—maybe I was onto something.