Bucking the system (literally)

I have to write this tonight for the very reason that I'm not supposed to.

Did that make sense? Okay, here's the thing: we're Jewish, but different alters' observance of Jewish law ranges from "That's not where I am now" to "I practically graduated from rabbinical school." And this is Friday night, the beginning of the Jewish sabbath (shabbat) and writing is one of the things prohibited on shabbat.

We were going to do candle-lighting and make Kiddush and the whole shabbat dinner thing except we don't have anything to cook and Chris has been working really hard and the body is exhausted. Then comes the guilt: what are we teaching our children? When they're adults will they have any memories of family shabbat dinners? I'm a bad mom to not honor this part of our lives now. Maybe God will punish me. Maybe He already has. Maybe there's just something wrong with me.

We've talked with our friend J about how Judaism allows for flexibility, and flexible we are being lately. We used to do so well, keeping kosher and observing shabbat and going to synagogue every Saturday. Lately many of us are too exhausted to do shabbat dinner and don't want to get up early for synagogue (it's already 2am as I write this).

But the more observant within argue, we aren't supposed to feel it and then do it. We're supposed to do it and then feel it. Kind of a "fake it until you make it" idea. Or, as I am being prodded to write, follow in the example of the Israelites in Exodus 24:7 when they say, “Naaseh v'nishma.” --- We will do first, and afterwards, understand.

And so there is conflict. Shabbat dinner and evening is supposed to be about resting from the creation of the week, about taking a day to enjoy the fruits of one's labors, about spending time with family and friends in song and prayer and study and introspection. It's supposed to be pleasant. But this fighting inside, this we-have-to attitude is sucking all the fun out of it. Just thinking about going to synagogue cranks the anxiety level way up, and there's a sense that if we can't do it all, why bother doing any of it? If we're going to violate shabbat in one way, there's no point in trying to observe it in others.

An elder at synagogue said many years ago that he didn't understand, when he asked a woman (not me) to take an aliyah -- to say a blessing over the Torah -- during services, she said she couldn't because she didn't light candles the night before. And this elder spent most of his life Orthodox! I try to take his words to heart, but there is this wall. The longer we go without making shabbat or going to synagogue, the harder it is, and at the same time if we force ourselves to do/go, then we resent it later.

And so I just rebel. Not quite in the eating a ham and cheese sandwich on Yom Kippur sort of way, but rebelling, against Jewish observance and my internal system simultaneously.

I don't know where to take this. I don't know where to go from here. I keep thinking that next week, I'll feel differently and we can do shabbat again. And then next week comes and it's just as bad. I want the joy, the peace, the restfulness that shabbat always brought before, but not if it's going to tear me apart in the meantime.

There's a whole other spiritual piece here, too, that I just can't get into right now because it's late and I'm tired and it's just too much to add to this post. It needs its own post --- or ten. But suffice it to say, we have it on good authority that the Universe would like to see us back in that peaceful, restful, joyous place, and will ultimately succeed in getting us to admit, however grudgingly, that our particular path to peace and joy is a Jewish one.

I'm still going to write this. And I still want to sleep in tomorrow.

~Shea