Solitary Sanctity

There is something odd, something ironic and even cruel, about the way that Shabbat comes to life each week these days. The rhythm is predictable; in so many ways it remains unchanged from years before, in other ways it is unrecognizable.

Sunset is approaching, the clock is ticking down. My oven smells of the delicious foods that are to come. The candles bring forth light, I sport my best digs. Time to walk down the street to shul.

Upon return, it's time to eat. Songs and prayers and food satiate the soul. Friends abounding in stories and love. There was evening. Friday. Sleep.

Next morning, light comes, and with it my New York Times. The coffee pot fills with black heroin. And the minutes pass, and then the hours.

Lately, I find myself struggling to make it back to hear Torah read in the morning. Simetimes I show up, but more out of obligation than excitement. And even when I do, the afternoon is filled with activities only tangentally Shabbisdik: the gym; tv marathons; games; friends. Sometimes the occasional meal or study. But not so much.

The day ends, the twisted candle is put in its drawer, Saturday night's fun comes to life. All the while, it seems that this night was my week's focus, not the day before it.

But why? I find myself these days without my Shabbat community of old, a new one still unfound or uncreated. And while the mitzvah still applies as an individual or one of many, it certainly leaves much for want as the former.

This new land of Brooklyn presents its problems. The synagogues seem cavernous and empty, performing rote ritual without the joy that I crave. The streets don't remember the day's importance. And without the excitment of many, I find myself struggling with the day entirely. Yet I lack the luxury of going shopping or cafe hopping; in the absence of a Shabbat community the yoke still chains my neck.

So I look for answers and ideas and in the search see global solutions. Because when it comes down to it, my problem isn't that unique. Outside of the Upper West Side and the 'Hood liberal Jews
almost universally lack committed Shabbat community that spans the full day. There are pockets and individuals, of course, but, mostly, it's entirely absent.

I don't seek "programs" or "activities", rather spirit and opportunities: more "Shabbat Shalom!"s and more invitations to others' tables; more spirit on the streets and a joy that fills the air.

I don't know how to do it, yet. But I'll learn. My charge will come back soon. Meanwhile, the day of rest, the day of community, thrives at the former in its failure at the latter.

It's too bad, certainly; a shame indeed. But it presents one hell of an opportunity for growth.

The sun is set. A new week arrives. Time to get working my friends.

Comments

[Miss L]

You've got to put yourself out there...they can't always come to you. Today alone I had 4 invitations to lunch post-altshul. It's there, it's just less obvious.

[David]

I'm not asking for a parade of guests to my house. To the contrary, I'm asking what work must be done to make your experience today (a great experience, a unique experience) both more commonplace and regular. Shabbat happens more than just one Saturday a month and in more places than just the back office of a local rabbi.

[Emma]

nice. I might have to steal this one too :-P

[Miss L]

You're right...now it happens 2 Saturdays a month and one Friday a month...