Alef: The NEXT Conversation

Evolution of Shabbat

By Emily Kapit

Recently, my husband and I attended the wedding of my first cousin, who grew up in an Orthodox household that was part of an Orthodox community, complete with an Orthodox shul and Jewish day school. Our extended family’s knowledge of all things Jewish made my knowledge base seem rather paltry and I feared that truth would shine through on this trip. While driving up to the wedding the Friday afternoon prior, I pulled out the weekend schedule my uncle had sent around and read it aloud to Jon:

“Well, there’s a minchah at seven o’clock tomorrow evening…and then a seudah shlishit, which apparently means ‘third meal’ followed by Havdalah and a Maariv…?”

“I’ve got Havdalah but what were all of those other things you mentioned?” He replied while navigating the car through the backstreets of a small New England town.

“Not sure but they’re establishing an eruv. What’s that?”

“Beats me. Look it up.”

Thank G-d for smart phones—I “Wikipediaed” everything and we continued up to Rhode Island, confident that, given our Reform/Conservative upbringings, neither of us would appear completely in the dark while speaking with Jews far more knowledgeable of the traditional customs and traditions that go along with an Orthodox Shabbat and wedding weekend.

A few hours later, right before Shabbat dinner, my uncle spoke to the my family and friends and mentioned that he had spent six hours establishing an eruv around the property so that the more religious guests in attendance would be okay to carry flashlights. From across the aisle, Jon and I winked at each other since, just that afternoon, we had learned via Wikipedia what, exactly, an eruv actually was.

The next morning, as Jon and I walked to the gym (a.k.a., our typical place of worship on a given Saturday morning), we spoke about the weekend up to that point. Eventually, we touched upon the eruv.

“So your uncle spent six hours setting that up?” Jon asked.

“Yeah—it kind of seems like a lot of work to avoid breaking rules about ‘doing work’ on Shabbat, you know?” I replied.

“And people had to turn off their flashlights if they stepped outside of it?”

I nodded, though I still wasn’t exactly sure about the rules on the subject.

Jon, who has somehow picked up my knack for making puns whenever possible, stopped walking; when I turned to see what was wrong, I noticed the telltale sly grin.

“Yes?”

“I bet they’d really have to…eruv on the side of caution in the dark then, eh?”

I’m fairly sure people in a neighboring New England town heard me groan; that said, his well-played pun added to the conversation I’d already been having in my head for the last several months: How does Shabbat relate to me now? Growing up, I’d always respected the more Conservative and Orthodox people in my life, admiring both their knowledge and execution of the traditions, Shabbat and otherwise. However, I didn’t completely understand the rules and felt that whenever I asked “Why?” I could never elicit a logical response. As a result, I always ended up questioning the rationale and then continuing with my own hectic lifestyle.

Regarding Shabbat itself, I know that this is the intended day of rest for Jews but, to me, following a litany of rules seems like even more work than normal. Attending regular services? Setting a timer on the lights/stove/other common household items? Pre-setting the DVR? Upon hearing that one several years ago, my cynical side just sighed and wondered where, if at all, the Torah or Talmudic writings indicate that pre-setting modern technology was truly necessary for observing Shabbat.

Though I am sure there is a rationale (or three) for every Shabbat tradition, I have to wonder if the original justification for Shabbat really is far more simple than a few thousand years of rabbinic arguments would suggest: perhaps Friday night at sundown to Saturday night at sundown is simply meant to be a break from work and a time of relaxation, time best spent with loved ones. The execution of this idea would be like fingerprints, then: unique to everybody.

More recently, the conversation in my mind has shifted from questioning what constitutes “work” on Shabbat to, instead, focusing on the “break from work” component. In truth, I believe this transition has less to do with maturity and more to do with becoming a workaholic of the worst kind: insomuch as I love what I do, I’m always working. When friends started pointing out this fact, I realized that actually taking a break would revive me. I’ve also found that I really enjoy both hosting and attending Shabbat dinners with friends. To that end, I’ve been making a point to spend Friday night and Saturday with friends, catching up on my DVR-ed shows, ignoring my to-do lists, and simply relaxing my mind. How successful I am with truly breaking from work changes by the week, though I am now toying with the idea of being smart and putting down the smart phone for a full twenty-five hours. We’ll see how long that lasts!

Later this month, Jon and I are attending the first-ever Couples Shabbat hosted by Birthright Israel NEXT Atlanta. My guess is that the notion of how Shabbat applies to me may evolve as a result of that experience and that perhaps my connection to Shabbat—and all things Jewish—will continue to evolve, adapt, and transition as I do the same. The one constant I can hope for is that however I keep Shabbat and other Jewish traditions, they will continue to bring me a sense of spirited connection to both my religion and culture…and not require me to miss out on quality time with my DVR.

Read more posts from Issue 18: Friday Night Lights.

Photo by Carly & Art, licensed under Creative Commons.

Tags: Shabbat

Posted by Sarah, Friday, August 6th, 2010, 2:14 pm, Friday Night Lights.