There’s a synagogue near our apartment that is well known for its spirited Kabbalat Shabbat service. The Kabbalat Shabbat service is a collection of psalms sung at sundown Friday evening to welcome in the Sabbath, often represented by the image of a bride. One of the most popular melodies for the Kabbalat Shabbat service was composed by Shlomo Carlbach. These tunes are energetic and upbeat, and lend themselves to dancing in the aisles.
The shul near our apartment is little and unassuming—if you weren’t looking for it, you would walk right by it. In fact, I had walked by it many times before finally deciding to give services there a try one Friday night. Although I had arrived early, before services had started, I watched as the women’s section of the synagogue filled up—by the end of services, women were standing in the aisle, from the back of the building all the way to the door in the front. The little shul came alive that Friday night with a ruach(spirit) I have never seen matched. The closest thing I can compare it to is perhaps opening ceremonies for International Convention for USY, or a particularly joyous wedding. Each psalm rang out, loud and spirited, and continued for five to ten minutes as the entire building hummed the melody even after all of the words had been said. A peek through the mechitzah (divider) revealed the men dancing in circles, arms around each other, banging loudly on a table to keep the beat.
“Why aren’t the women dancing?” my mom asked me. “Why can’t we have fun too?”
I was actually really enjoying myself, dancing or not, but I could see her point. Although the women were singing with an unrivaled ruach, their dancing remained on a personal level, each woman bobbing alone at her seat. And then, one woman, a large smile on her face, grabbed the women sitting near her and began to form a circle, singing, clapping, and dancing to the beat. Andy would call this woman a Nachshon. Nachshon was the name of the first man who walked into the Red Sea after the Exodus from Egypt—even before the Sea had parted. Midrash tells us that it is because of Nachshon’s faith and leadership that the Sea eventually did part.
My mom and I did not dance with the other women that night, but we sang with them and joined in their spirit.
A few months later, I returned to the synagogue with a few friends. We arrived early—after watching how quickly the little shul filled up last time, I did not want to risk not having a seat. I was enjoying the upbeat melodies and spirit of the service when one of my friends turned to me and asked “When does the party start?” (I had promised her a party for Shabbat services). I was surprised that she had not considered the singing we had done so far a party.
Almost as if on cue, the Nachshon-ette from the last time, who happened to be sitting behind us that week, tapped us on the shoulder and encouraged us to join her and her friends in a circle. We quickly cleared our chairs for room for a horah. Slowly but surely, our circle was joined by some of the women around us—we even had the honor of dancing with a woman who would be getting married on Sunday.
“Where else in the world would you sing and dance around chairs on a Friday night?” asked Nachshon-ette. Her smile radiated throughout the little room and her spirit was infectious. She truly embodied the joy with which we are encouraged the greet Shabbat, the Sabbath bride. The evening was beautiful, invigorating, and re-energizing. After a stressful week of work and obligations, 10 women who I had never met before reminded me to celebrate life, and the joy that each day brings. To celebrate the good that we are given.
“I couldn’t do this every week,” one of my friends said. “But this week, it was perfect.”
But what if—what if we did do that every week? That little shul does, and I’m willing to bet Nachshon-ette is there each week, with the same energy and spark. Better yet, what if we greeted each day the way we greet Shabbat? Not with a mumbled Modeh Ani, thanking G-d for returning our breaths and souls to our bodies, but with sheer joy and elation. With a true of feeling of celebration, greeting each new morning as the gift that it is. What if we literally sang our praise out loud, and danced around the room, putting to use the ruach that was granted to us that morning? Would Shabbat be any less special? I don’t think so—each morning we can celebrate on our own, garnering spirit from ourselves and our gratefulness—and each Shabbat we can join together to sing and dance around chairs in a true display of joy and happiness. What if we greeted each day the way we greet Shabbat?
I’m willing to bet that our days would be more positive and that we would be better people for it.
I don’t know if I’ll see Nachshon-ette again—I suppose I may attend services at that little shul at least once more before I leave Israel—but she’s got the right idea, and I think it’s an idea worth spreading.
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