The Baal Shem Tov taught: Whatever a Jew sees or hears is there to teach him a lesson in spiritual development.
Musings on life, spirituality and current world events.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Is it Friday night or Shabbos?
High school Shabbatons... ah, the memories: spirited Friday night singing, paper-thin matresses, mutant mosquitoes, unparalleled camaraderie and endless bean & potato cholent. But no high school Shabbaton will parallel the dash-to-make-the-candles-deadline Shabbaton we once had in the Drakenesberg mountains.
We set out early on that sparkling Friday morning to hike for eight hours up a ravine, across the ridge of a mountain and down what the guidebook called the "Mudslide". We hiked, scrambled over boulders and climbed chain ladders at a healthy pace, reveling in the spectacular views, but mindful of the fact that we needed to stay on course so that we would make it back with time to spare before Shabbos. As we walked along the tops of mountains, we gazed out over the horizon-hugging ranges and marveled at G-d's beautiful creation. By the time we reached the downward path, we figured that we would still have plenty of time to get back to the bus and return to our campsite before sunset.
Only, things did not go quite as planned.
Right there, perched at the top of the notorious "Mudslide", a fellow student developed vertigo. His anxiety grew with every downward step and, what should have been an easy two-hour walk, dragged into an endless coaching session, as we eased him down the incline. Eventually, we reached the end of the hike. We raced to the bus, zoomed back to camp, arrived within the 18 minute grace-period reserved for just such pre-Shabbos emergencies, sprinted to the showers... and got to Mincha just as the sun went down.
Later that evening, a bewildered Afrikaans couple approached our headmaster, Rabbi Hazdan. "How," they wanted to know, "Did you pull that off?"
"We were sitting on the stoep when your busload of mud-coated, boisterous teenagers arrived at the campsite. Five minutes later, a group of groomed, clean young men in crisp suits emerged from their bungalows! We could never get our teens to do something like that," they exclaimed.
He tried to explain Shabbos to them, but I'm not sure they got it.
Shabbos isn't something that Jews do; it's a symbol of who we are. No matter how busy, stressed or distracted we may be; regardless of what crises we've faced, Shabbos transforms us. It has that power. Shabbos is a healthy de-stresser, it is an anchor of family time, it allows us to shift gears from competitive business-life to enriching communal-life.
All we need to do is be there when the Shabbos magic switches on. Out in the 'Berg, we could have davened in our hiking boots or skipped shul because we had been wiped out by the adventures of a day in Nature. But, it wasn't even an option, because we'd been trained that Shabbos is not on the to-do list, it's in your bones. So, no matter what, we knew Shabbos would not be Shabbos if we would not dress the part, band together and daven together.
Needless to say, that Shabbos was one of the most powerful we had ever experienced.
Rush in if you have to, but ensure you dress your best and join the community as Shabbos comes in. You can do Shabbos in the privacy of your dining room, but you just can't access that same amazing energizing spirit of Shabbos that you get when you're with the community each week. Shabbos is not just the start of the weekend, it's the day that defines us as Jews, the day when we teach our children by example that shul and community and prayer and a Jewish meal and our families are important. Shabbos is an experience to grab with both hands, starting this week!