When my kids come home from school, I see the exhaustion on their faces. When they have to schlep off to karate or baseball or Hebrew School before even having had a proper snack, I feel a twinge in my heart. When they return home for dinner followed by another half hour or so of homework I am keenly aware of how much they need a break.
I also struggle to find ways to make Judaism more alive for my children. My husband is not Jewish, we each have busy schedules, we live in a secular community, and I grew up in a very secular household.
But, there is one simple thing, one small change in our schedule that has the ability to affect everything: Shabbat.
Shabbat reminds me that there is a world outside of school and schedules, a world of spirituality that has the potential to add depth and dimension to our often routine existences.
On Friday evenings, my children put away their coats and shoes and follow the savory smell of chicken soup to the kitchen. Together we braid challah and put it into the oven. The smell of baking bread keeps everyone nearby as I finish up dinner and my oldest son sets the table.
Meanwhile, my daughter lights the candles with me. When the rest have gone off to play, read, or clean up after dinner she remains at the table, the reflection of the flames dancing across her freckled face.
Last Shabbat I asked her why she sits for so long. Wouldn’t she rather go have dessert with her brothers or play in her room?
“I like to watch the candles, Mama.” she said. “When they are burning I feel Jewish on the outside and the inside.”
One of my fondest memories from my childhood is being blessed by my Saba in Israel after Shabbat dinner. I remember the deep boom of his voice, the heaviness of his hand on my head, and the tenderness with which he pat my hair. My husband’s voice is also deep, his hand is also heavy, and his heart is filled with tenderness for our children. Each week, after dinner, he lays his hands on their heads and makes a special wish for them for the upcoming week — that they will have the knowledge to pass their math test or the energy to make it through the long school day or the courage to stand up to that bully that’s been bothering them on the bus.
Just the act of acknowledging each of their needs and concerns fills both my husband and children with feelings of warmth, love, and connection to each other and to our shared heritage. Besides the good smells of yummy food and the illumination of the candles that accompany Shabbat, there is this intangible feeling of serenity and togetherness which often escapes us during the busy weekdays.
The reality is that the Judaism that my kids inherit will come more from those short hours we spend together on Friday evenings cooking, lighting candles, exchanging blessings, and talking about the highs and lows of our weeks than from anywhere else. Over the years I have tried to find the rituals and traditions that will impact them the most, that will cause them, like me, to keep seeking out Judaism again and again, through all the phases of their lives.
The end of Daylight Savings Time means that the sun will set even earlier, making the weekdays feel even more hectic in the rush to get everything done. That, to me, is the key reason why Shabbat becomes extra important this time of year. During the darkest time of the year we need the extra light that spending time together brings our family. That is something I can look forward to every single week.
Lela Casey is a mother of three children living in Bucks County, PA. Being raised by a fiery Israeli mother and a gentle farmer in the middle of nowhere lent her a unique perspective on Judaism. She holds degrees from both Penn State University and Rhode Island College. Besides contributing to PJ Library, she has written several children’s books and young adult novels. You can also find her writing at kveller.com, brainchildmag.com, elephantjournal.com, Themid.com, and femininecollective.com.