And Then The Bubble Burst ~Part 2~

**If you have not read the blog below this one, please read it first. This one will make much more sense if you do. **

I was doing really well. I wasn’t talking to men, I was going to classes, I was believing everything they were telling me, I was thinking that my teachers had all the answers, that my life would magically be figured out in this small corner of the Jewish world. But every Shabbat I stayed in Har Nof I sat silently at the Shabbos table and listened to the men sing. As much as I loved the food and the company and the conversation, I couldn’t sing.

I had heard about this place called ‘The Moshav’ from some friends. It’s a kibbutz-like commune of old school hippies who were brought back to Judaism by a charismatic rabbi, Shlomo Carlebach, who connected to uninterested Jews through his ability to take Torah and Jewish philosophy and make them accessible and relevant. One of his major additions to contemporary Jewish life in general was his music. He was an amazing musician and took the daily and other prayers and put them to music that made the normally 'boring' or 'dry' experience a much more meaningful one. I heard that the women there could sing, and it was still religiously 'kosher.' So at the end of September, just before Rosh Hashana, I stepped foot on the Moshav for the first time.

Stepping onto the Moshav, especially after all of my time in Har Nof, was quite a culture shock. Har Nof can be friendly, but the Moshav is much more so. Women AND men (gasp!) say hello as they walk by, women wear short sleeves, color abounds. Especially purple. The Moshav in itself is placed over a few hundred acres of forest and rolling hills. The houses are a bit run down, but there is no absence of character. One especially animated front yard has a ‘bathtub garden’ with old bathtubs with plants growing out of them all over the lawn. In the same yard there is an archway with blown glass orbs dangling down over those entering, and there’s even a wooden Jewish star on a nearby tree. The older members are all basically religious hippies. The women wear flowing dresses and skirts, beautiful scarves cover their hair instead of the stiff wigs of the Har Nof women. The men wear flowing linen or cotton pants, loose tunics, and white kippas (circular head coverings that men wear). Gone are the men in black suits I had grown used to. The temple (what we call ‘shul’) has been hand painted by one of the Moshav residents with beautiful pictures of Jewish scenes and the women’s section is lined with the names of all of the powerful women in Torah interwoven with painted flowers and leaves.

I was actually completely confused when I got to the Moshav. My free flowing side was beyond pleased, the unkempt look of the place showed that real people lived there, but my newly 'religious seminary girl' self was a bit uncomfortable with this self-proclaimed Orthodox community and its free flowing relationships between men and women. Men of all ages came up to me to talk to me. Wierd. I know I sound like a crazy conservative, but that’s the world I’ve been living in for the past few months. It’s just not done. But on the Moshav, it’s…different.

I actually caught myself judging the people in the first few hours I spent there. The girls didn’t dress right, this was off, that was off, and then the sun began to set and we all went into shul to welcome the Sabbath. And it all melted away. The praying, the singing that happens in that place is…transcendent. We started to pray and the men and women's voices melded into one, neither one paying attention to or being (at least visibly) concerned by the other. As the minutes went by, I felt my heart soar with joy and for one of the first times since being here I could focus on the words I was saying, and even more, I could feel them. We welcomed the Sabbath (Shabbat is likened to a bride and at the time when the sun sets and it begins, we literally turn around, bow, and turn back to face front as if ushering a queen through a door). The whole reason I began observing the Sabbath was because I realized how important it was to take a day off. I was doing it for me, for my mental growth, to be able to put down my phone and computer for a day and just be. But bowing to greet the Sabbath that first night, it almost took my breath away. I was welcoming something so pure and beautiful into the world, into the room, into my life.

We recited the verse where it all began,
“And the children of Israel shall keep the Sabbath, to make the Sabbath an eternal covenant for their generations. Between me and the Children of Israel it is a sign forever that in six days God made heaven and earth, and on the seventh day He rested and was refreshed.” (Exodus 31: 16-17)

And I got it. This was one Friday night in an unending string of hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of Friday nights where this time was kept sacred. It is what Heschel calls a “cathedral in time.” Through the destruction of two temples, the Inquisition, the Crusades, the Enlightenment, the Holocaust, everything the Jews have been through, this day has been kept by Jews, many times at the danger or even cost of death. It is about this God who created the world and created and continues to create this special time for peace and prayer so that the generations before me, myself, and my children and all the generations after can have a break and be. Not just be, but be with God. I don’t expect you to understand this experience exactly, but maybe to help, think of the three most meaningful and joyous times in your life. They are undoubtedly times of connection, of union. If not with God, with yourself, with one person, or with a group. But whatever that amazing moment or day, it was the connection. Seeing more than just you. Absolute joy. And that’s what I felt. Full to bursting. And, best of all, in the Moshav I could sing. I sang loudly and completely, breaking into a huge smile as I sang, knowing that this was me and I needed to sing. I needed to sing to and for God, and for the Sabbath, and for all of the other blessings in my life. And that is when the bubble burst.