Mitch Chefitz & Adam Gindea

(The summary is written by Mitch with inclusions from Adam.)

We began by reviewing the process that led to the development of a new story.

In our last session we expressed our concern for those who were suffering from the effects of the hurricane and then opened to the following story from Buber’s Tales of the Hasidim:

The Renewed Soul

Rabbi Hirsh once said to his Hasidim:

“When a man rises in the morning and sees that God has returned his soul to him and that he has become a new creature, he should turn singer and sing to God.

“My holy master Rabbi Menahem Mendel had a Hasid who whenever he came to the words in the Morning Prayer: ‘My God, the soul you have placed in me is pure,’ danced and broke into a song of praise.”

We then separated into the hevruta study pairs to react to the story. After half a dozen minutes, we reassembled and collected responses. After allowing those responses to settle, a story began to emerge. Should you review the summary for the 7th session, you will see that process.

In the weeks since that last session a new story was set down in writing, more fully formed than the proto-story we began to discover during the session.

Mitch read the story aloud, in a story-teller’s voice.

AFTER THE STORM

Moshe and Miriam were neighbors.

Moshe considered himself religious. Upon awakening he knew he was to say Modeh ani which he understood to mean: I am thankful before You, a living and present King, that You have compassionately restored my soul to me; great is your faith. He always recited the words unerringly. He always, unwittingly, emphasized the first person: the I and the my and the me. It never occurred to him to question that last phrase: Great is Your faith. Great is Your faith in what?

Miriam did not consider herself religious, but she too said Modah ani upon awakening which she understood to mean I am thankful before You, a living and present King, that You have compassionately restored my soul to me; great is Your faith… After many years of reciting Modah ani, she added some words: Great is Your faith…in me. But even though her expression resolved into an awareness of herself, her emphasis was always on the You and the Your.

The neighborhood suffered a massive hurricane. All night the winds roared as they both hunkered down fearful for their lives. Upon surviving the night they each recited Modeh (modah) ani, each thankful their bodies were still intact. They emerged from their homes to witness the devastation.

Moshe was overwhelmed – trees down everywhere, homes damaged, vehicles overturned. His initial response was – for this I should be thankful? How are we ever going to recover from this?

Miriam also witnessed the destruction. Her initial response was – there is much still for which to be thankful, and together we will recover from this.

We divided into hevruta groups to react to the story in its current form. What makes a story a story?

We returned from the breakout sessions to a slow chant – Shalom, four times, each shalom lasting about five seconds, chanted at five second intervals. Though we couldn’t chant together on Zoom, we might intone separately, each in our own Zoom room. We practiced a round of four. This is a Jewish meditative breathing technique, similar to those found in other spiritual traditions.

We collected responses from the hevruta pairs.

One participant noted two different approaches within the story, and that Miriam seemed more attached to HaShem than Moshe. He thought the story ended well, and is complete.

Another remarked that the two approaches complemented each other, and wanted the story to continue. The inner transformation is conveyed in the story. He wanted to know more of how that might play out in the external world. Perhaps the two might come together.

Mitch commented that the two extremes might come together when the Messiah comes. The story might be considered as a fable to delineate the two extremes. Fables come to initiate discussion, not to affect resolution.

We progressed to choose a new story from Buber, to see where that might lead. Volume II, page 52. The title of the story is The New Heaven. Adam read the story aloud:

When the Rabbi of Rizhyn was a child, he was once walking up and down in the yard on a Friday toward evening time, when the Hasidim had already gone off to pray. A Hasid went up to him and said: “Why don’t you go in? The sabbath has already begun.”

“The sabbath hasn’t begun yet,” he replied.

“How do you know that?” asked the Hasid.

“On the sabbath,” he answered, “there always appears a new Heaven, and I can’t see any sign of it yet.”

After a moment to consider, Mitch read the story again, not only to hear it a second time, but to hear it in a different voice.

ThenMitch read it one more time with some commentary:

When the Rabbi of Rizhyn was a child, he was once walking up and down in the yard on a Friday toward evening time, when the Hasidim had already gone off to pray. (Toward – likrat in Hebrew – has the sense of toward a particular time as well as toward a particular place.) A Hasid (who was on his way to schul) went up to him and said: “Why don’t you go in? The sabbath has already begun.”

“The sabbath hasn’t begun yet,” he replied.

“How do you know that?” asked the Hasid.

“On the sabbath,” he answered, “there always appears a new Heaven, and I can’t see any sign of it yet.”

As we held on to that, Mitch asked, “How do we know when the Sabbath comes to an end?” The response was, “When we see three stars.” Mitch noted that it is a sign in the heavens that brings the Sabbath to an end, and here the boy is looking for a sign in the heavens to determine when the Sabbath begins. He asked, “How do we know when the Sabbath begins?”

With that we broke into breakout groups again for six minutes to consider the story.

We reassembled to the meditative chant of Shalom. This time we chanted it a second time with the words Shabbat shalom.

A participant reported he had begun with the child pondering the question in his head as an idea, but his study partner asked if he had ever seen a sunset. Shabbat begins at sunset. So there was an external element as well as an internal preparation. In the physical world, the stars appear before the light disappears.

A participant shared that candle lighting is 18 minutes before the sunset. For the child it wasn’t a matter of the calendar and the stars, but the onset of Shabbat required an internal feeling.

Another shared that when he was a child Shabbat started when his Dad came home. We considered that a father might be traveling all week and the child waiting for him to return before Shabbat. For him that was Heaven, to have his father close again. So the child was pacing up and down waiting for his father to come. Since his father had not yet come, it was not yet Shabbat.

That response gave us some pause.

Then we recalled the singing of L’chah Dodee and turning toward the door to welcome the Shabbat bride.

Adam said that brought to mind a story of the presence of Shabbat.

A story is told of Rabbi Zusya and Rabbi Elimelech, students of the Magid of Mezritch. They would travel from town to town to lead profound Shabbat experiences. Once after Havdalah they asked each other, “Do you think we have this profound feeling of Shabbat only because we are surrounded by these wonderful people and eat, and sing and dance together? What if Shabbat isn’t attached to Saturday? What if we prepared for Shabbat and did all of the ritual on a Tuesday? Would that work?”

So they tried that. Monday night they did everything they would normally do on a Friday night, and on Tuesday they did everything they would normally do on a Saturday. At the end of the day they had Havdalah, looked at each other, and realized the experience felt like a real Shabbat. Confused, they went to inquire of their teacher, Dov Baer, the Magid of Mezritch. He said, “For you, of course it felt like Shabbat! If you went into the day as you would on Shabbat, it was Shabbat.”

The Sefat Emet teaches about this often. Shabbat is about commemorating and consecrating creation. It is the realization that we exist, right now, right here as an aspect and component of creation. Shabbat is the designated “Holy time in space” that we carve out in unison with the Holy One to celebrate and acknowledge the wonder that there is existence. Shabbat acknowledges that creation came into being and was completed. The fact that we get to experience this very moment carries with it the idea and power of a completed creation. It is that awareness that we strive to experience on Shabbat. It is that awareness of and connection to a Creator who created that is at the heart of the meaning of Shabbat, and that is accessible at every moment.

Mitch added that this teaching is intimated in the very first line of Buber’s story in which we learn it was toward evening time. Every moment of every day is considered toward Shabbat – likrat Shabbat. The days of the week have no names. They are day one toward Shabbat, day two toward Shabbat, day three toward Shabbat…

Mitch referring back to the work done in his hevruta group added that the story is unfinished. It needs an immediate continuation. The child says he cannot see a sign of Shabbat yet. The Hasid has to ask – “What is the sign you are looking for?” A continuation might be, “For me,” the child says, “Shabbat begins when my father comes home. I’m walking up and down because my father is delayed. When he arrives it will be like a new heaven, and I’ll know Shabbat has come.”

And so, the story continues. Then we might put this story within a story as a way of teaching children about Shabbat, or, even better, teaching parents how to teach their children about Shabbat.