For some reason I love this Shabbat. There is a feeling of expanse of time. Creation seems closer. I try to spend as much time as possible outside.

This Shabbat was no exception. We began with “Shabbat Under the Stars”, 30 people joined us for Kabbalat Shabbat services and a potluck dairy dinner. The service was outside, much like the Kabblistic rabbis in Safed, the ancient mystical town in northern Israel. They would go out into the fields on Friday afternoon to welcome Shabbat, to receive Shabbat. They would dress all in white to welcome the Shabbat bride, the Shabbat queen. They based this new (1500s CE) service on the rabbis of the Talmud who would dress in their best clothing and greet each other with, “Lecha dodi likrat kallah, Come, my beloved, to welcome the bride.” This quote became the basis for the song Lecha Dodi.

People gathered in lawn chairs, on the deck, standing, and we sang those words of Lecha Dodi. It gave me shivers. We were out in the field, singing, watching the clouds, a bird flying overhead, the wind rustling the cattails in the wetlands. We were living out the words of Ma’ariv Aravim:

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the universe,
who speaks the evening into being,
skillfully opens the gates,
thoughtfully alters the time and changes the seasons,
and arranges the stars in their heavenly courses according to plan.
You are Creator of day and night,
rolling light away from darkness and darkness from light,
transforming day into night and distinguishing one from the other.
Adonai Tz’vaot is Your Name.
Ever-living God, may You reign continually over us into eternity.
Blessed are You, Adonai, who brings on evening.

A summer night. Shabbat had arrived.

While I had worried about having enough food, I need not have. Plenty of food. Good food. Good conversation. Good friends. And people lingered on the deck. A Shabbat moment. As we continue to watch day turn to dusk, dusk to twilight, twilight to night.  And yes, we ate ice cream!

In the morning, we gathered at the synagogue. I called out the liturgical references to Creation and to changing seasons. I spoke about liminal time. More on that in the next post. My bimah partners covered much of the service, allowing me to have a spiritual moment while standing in the back of the sanctuary.

After services, Simon and I had a lovely meal outdoors. Artichoke, avocado-cucumber soup and salad. We skipped dessert. I took a nap. We tried to go for a bike ride. We went for a walk. We watched a storm outdoors from the safety of our front porch. After the storm we were treated to a beautiful sunset.

“And on the seventh day God finished His work which He had made; and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had made.” (Genesis 2)

When the Torah describes God as “resting,” it says in Exodus, in the familiar words of “V’shamru”, shavat vayinafash. Shavat is related both to rest and to sit/dwell. Some relate it as well to Sheva, seven, since G-d rested on the seventh day. That is probably a linguistic stretch. Shavat really means then, to refrain from work. The next word is va-yinafash. This signifies another forrn of leisure. Va-yinafash and the noun nefesh, means the soul, the spirit. It also means breath. So what it is saying is that G-d rested and took a breath. That, according to Rashi, G-d was refreshed. So Shabbat is the pause that refreshes. (I couldn’t resist!)

This has been a Shabbat, with its 5 extra seconds of daylight, where we enjoyed the leisure of Shabbat. The pause. Like G-d we actively stopped working and we actively paused for a breath, for a chance to take it in. And we gave thanks. For creation. For life. For healing. For storms. For strength. For courage. For food. For naps. For dreams. For rest.

A whole day.