Despite the near-constant worry over, well, nearly everything, but especially our family’s finances, my mother always made sure my brother and I had brand-new outfits on Rosh Hashanah. The shopping for the outfits was one major way my mother showed love. I have strong, happy memories of being with her in the changing room of bargain basements like Ross or TJ Maxx. I never felt so loved or taken care of in my whole life as when she helped me assess each item and took the “yes” pile to the cash register.

This year, my mother died. She declined rapidly with a type of dementia that robbed her first of the ability to speak and then after of the ability to do pretty much everything else. This Rosh Hashanah, I will still be in the traditional year of Jewish mourning mandated by the Biblical commandment to honor your mother and father.

And so buying my own children new outfits to mark the new year might make a fitting tribute. But instead, my family and I are continuing a Rosh Hashanah tradition of our own, taking on a new habit meant to bring us closer together and put our values into practice. And this year we are committing to buying, if not nothing at all, then far, far less.

My family lives now, as we have for the last three years, in the Main Line suburbs of Philadelphia. We are some of the luckiest people in the world. We own our own home and it has a basement and a sunroom and a backyard and lots of closets. And it is full of stuff. So much stuff.

Where does it all even come from? You know how it is. One-click shopping when the mood strikes. Instagram ads for that perfect item. Trips to Target and Whole Foods with my kids would be cheaper if I hired a........

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