When the sun begins to dip toward the western horizon on Friday afternoon, I close my phone and computer with a sense of satisfaction. For the next 25 hours I will ignore the outside world of work, commerce, news, social media, texts, and WhatsApp messages. Instead, I will focus on my inside world of connecting to my Jewish soul.
Dressed in my Shabbat clothes, I walk to the dining room and stand in front of the console table nestled next to the window. My candles await.
Fridays are hectic days, filled with physical tasks: shopping, cooking, cleaning, setting the table with an elegant tablecloth and fresh flowers. Tasks now complete, I take a moment to focus on this transition from the mundane to the sacred. I strike the match, lighting one candle, then two, moving on to three and four. When the heat comes closer, too close, I shake out the match and strike a second for candles five and six.
Like my mother, grandmother, and an unbroken line of female ancestors before them, I wave my hands toward me three times in a circular motion before reciting the blessing. No one knows exactly why this custom evolved or what it means, but I read somewhere that we are waving our inner soul energy back to its source, after pursuing externalities for the last six days. I love this idea.
Two of the six candles are for the mitzvah of welcoming Shabbat; the other four are for each of my children. When all six candles are lit, I inhale deeply, filling my lungs and spirit with the first moments of serenity and holiness of the seventh day. Lighting my candles with intention helps set this tone in my home. I hope it also spreads a little of the same light throughout the Jewish world. Two candles stand in tall, modern, hammered metal candlesticks; the other four candles nest in small matching gleaming holders. I leave my shutters open so that passersby can see the candlelight from the street. Later, I’ll stand outside to enjoy the same view: light from within.
I don’t pray formally as often as I ought to, so I especially cherish these moments of welcoming Shabbat. I do not rush through my blessings. This light of Shabbat was built into the foundation of the universe, and I believe that it can counter the darkness of worry, of pain, of conflict, of trivialities. What a powerful idea to think about when we embrace the light.
Looking at the swaying little flames, I thank God for this gift of Shabbat — a word that means “cease.” If I didn’t keep Shabbat, would I ever stop for a full day, setting my material and ego concerns aside? Would I ever prioritize time to press the spiritual reset button? I also thank God for my wealth of blessings, and pray for the physical, spiritual, and emotional health of my family. I say the full names of my husband, our children, their spouses, and our fourteen grandchildren. This is, thank God, a lot of names, so this doubles as a brain exercise. Saying their names, I summon each bright, cherished face in my mind’s eye, every one a source of light, every one a blessing. I pray for an end to the suffering of our people, and for God to hasten the promised final redemption, when the entire world will know peace.
Finally, I pray for my continued strength to try to bring light into the world, not just on Shabbat but every day through the words I think, speak, and write. I pray for health to take care of my family, because even though the kids are raising families of their own, they still need me and I need them. My husband and I need each other too. I ask for continued vitality to create and to achieve.
For another moment I gaze at the candles, absorbing their gift, and begin 25 hours of renewal.
Judy Gruen is the author of “Bylines and Blessings,” “The Skeptic and the Rabbi,” and other books. She is also a book editor and writing coach.
