Shabbat

Lighting Shabbat candles as a child with my sister Carol, my mother Jennie Levin Kent, and myself. Photo courtesy of the author.

Lighting Shabbat candles with my children when they were younger: Etai Goldenberg and Oren Goldenberg. Photo courtesy of the author.

“On the seventh day God finished the work … and ceased from all the work … and God blessed the seventh day and declared it holy… .” (Genesis 2:2-3) 

“Remember the Sabbath Day, to keep it holy.”  (fourth of the Ten Commandments).  

I grew up in a Jewish household, but we were not a religious family. Shabbat, however, was always a special day, different from the others. A vase of mixed-colored flowers adorned our Shabbat table. A delicious, sweet aroma of challah baking in the oven permeated the kitchen.

Our Shabbat began on Friday evening with the dropping of coins into our tzedakah (charity) box before Mother lit her three candle candelabra. She waved her hands over the candles, covered her eyes and said the prayer in Hebrew, welcoming Shabbat. Daddy recited the Kiddish prayer over sweet white Manischewitz wine, followed by the Hamotzi prayer over the challah.

Mother served a delicious meal, usually chicken, sometimes brisket (or both if we were having company). Lively conversations were part of the evening. Mother often prepared articles from the newspaper or letters from relatives to share. Daddy told us about the cases he worked on as a prosecuting attorney and later as a judge.

Even if we didn’t attend synagogue, Saturday was still a different day. No chores, no laundry, no shopping. Going out with my friends to lunch and shopping at Northland Mall or to the movies was a no-no in Mother’s book. It involved using money! So, I read books, did homework and went to the neighborhood park. My small, shaggy black/grey mixed-breed dog, Frisca, accompanied me on the slide and enjoyed swinging in the baby swings. At times, Mother allowed a friend to sleep over.

​The tradition of Shabbat being a special day continued as I raised my children. Friday night dinner rituals were weekly events. Even when my youngest son’s high school football games were on Fridays, Shabbat candle lighting, reciting of Kiddush and Hamotzi “waited” and took place post-game time.

My boys, now adults, continue our family traditions. Even when attending synagogue is not part of the weekend events, Shabbat dinners and Saturday as a day of rest are still their lifestyle. Alarms do not ring. Screens are turned off. Pajamas all day are the dress.

I appreciate and salute the late, longtime U.S. Sen. Joe Lieberman (May he rest in peace) for bringing the importance of Shabbat as a day of rest and recuperation to the attention of the general public.

Speaking to Israel National News’ Arutz Sheva at Shabbat Unplugged, the first Israeli Conference on Shabbat, Society and Economics, Sen. Lieberman said that with us living in the digital age in which smartphones and technology make it possible to work “all the time every day,” unplugging for one day a week is all the more significant. “A lot of people,” he said, “are yearning for a reason, an external norm that says to them you have to stop for 25 hours one day a week. And Shabbat is it.”

In his book, The Gift of Rest: Rediscovering the Beauty of the Sabbath, Sen. Lieberman writes about how, for people of all religions, ceasing all activity for a weekly Sabbath observance has profound benefits—including for one’s health, relationships and even career advancement.

I relish Shabbat. I love having permission to lazy around with no need to carry out tasks. Turning off the alarm, sleeping until I awake, even lazing in bed are Saturday pleasures. Putting electronics aside without guilt is liberating– a sacred pause from the tumult of life. On this day, I am not Shomar Shabbat (Keeper of the Sabbath), just “Shomar Beverly.”

Recently, though, my love of Shabbat has been tainted. Its sweet taste was poisoned on October 7. Quiet relaxation has turned into fear, anguish and vigilance. Since the “Black Shabbat” invasion, as it is called in Israel, horrific murders, burning of homes, hostage taking, rape and mutilation have been imprinted upon my brain.

Two weeks after October 7, on Shabbat October 21, Samantha Woll, president of Detroit’s Isaac Agree Downtown Synagogue, was stabbed to death– in my home city of Detroit. The event replays in my mind again and again.

The horrors that Israel experienced on October 7 continue. Most of the hostages have not been returned. Shabbat brings news of soldiers being killed in combat. There is no tranquility. Constant watching of the news broadcasts, researching and following up on news reports and calling to check the status of our family and friends in Israel have taken over my life.

On Saturday, April 13, Israel waited and prepared for an Iranian missile attack, which took place later that evening.

Protests and unrest on college campuses, with the lack of appropriate responses from too many university administrations, trouble me. As Hadassah’s policy statement, “Standing Up to Antisemitism on College Campuses and in Communities Across the Country,” states:

“College campuses have become hotbeds of hateful rhetoric, where antisemitic tropes and conspiracy theories are voiced in student and classroom interactions. Jewish students, faculty and staff are being targeted and shut out of campus activities. Despite the numerous resources that have been put forward for supporting Jewish students and addressing antisemitism on campus, many leaders and institutions failed to respond appropriately and have publicly justified their decision not to protect Jewish students from discrimination and harassment.”

Many graduation ceremonies, scheduled to take place on a Saturday, were shut down. At my alma mater, the University of Michigan, the graduation proceeded as scheduled on Shabbat May 3, but with disturbances and chaos caused by Pro-Palestinian protestors.

On Shabbat, June 15, 10 Israeli soldiers were killed in Gaza, one of the bloodiest days for the Israeli military since the beginning of its war with Hamas.

Just before Shabbat candle lighting on June 28, we were notified that our dear cousin, Yakir Tatelbaum, was killed in action in Gaza.

On Shabbat July 20, we entered into a new phase of war after the Houthis from Yemen crashed a drone into Tel Aviv the day before.

On Shabbat July 27, 12 children were killed while playing soccer. An Iranian-made rocket fired by Hezbollah hit the soccer field in the Druze town of MajdalShams in the Golan Heights, snuffing out 12 innocent lives.

Not only has Shabbat been infected with constant tension, anxiety, worry, mourning, but now every single day is fraught with distress. My and my family’s bodies have reacted–tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Day and night our minds are screaming, our bodies shaking; our blood pressures are elevated; we are breaking out in hives and filled with nausea.

“We are in an escalating war,” Israel Defense Forces spokesperson RAdm. Daniel Hagari told NBC News in July 2024. According to UN Watch, “Since October 7, Hamas has fired approximately 12,000 rockets at Israeli civilians while Hezbollah has launched more than 8,000 rockets and other explosives into Israel. As of the end of June 2024, close to 90,000 Israelis remained internally displaced.”

It is now mid-September, the war is still going on, the number of rockets fired at Israel continues to climb and Israeli families remain displaced from their homes.

The “Three Weeks” between the fast day of the 17th of Tammuz, when the walls of Jerusalem were breached by the Romans in 69 CE, and Tisha B’Av, marking the destruction of the ancient temples (July 23 – August 13 this year) have historically been days of misfortune and calamity for the Jewish people. During the three weeks this year, we have been in the midst of daily escalation of conflicts in the Middle East–our own modern day Israeli calamity. We are fighting for Israel’s survival.

G-d, where were you? G-d, where are you?

Were you resting and unplugged? Are you still unplugged?

Oh, how I long for the Shabbat I knew. Will it ever return?

The Hadassah Writers’ Circle is a dynamic and diverse writing group for leaders and members to express their thoughts and feelings about all the things Hadassah does to make the world a better place, to celebrate their personal Hadassah journeys and to share their Jewish values, family traditions and interpretations of Jewish texts.  Since 2019, the Hadassah Writers’ Circle has published nearly 450 columns in the Times of Israel Blogs and other Jewish media outlets. Interested? Please contact hwc@hadassah.org.