rabbijaffe

At this stage I was started to become philosophically inclined with living an observant Jewish lifestyle… but in practice I was still doing just about everything the same.

I was essentially a reform Jew fascinated by “orthodoxy”, who was surrounded all the time by orthodox kids who did curious and interesting rituals.

The most curious of all their practices was their Sabbath/Shabbat observance.

As far as I had understood everything from my summer camp days, Jews observed Shabbat weekly by dressing up nicely, making Kiddush, and having a nice meal together as a group.

It was optional, sporadic, and, for the most part, appeared like a slightly enhanced version of a regular old weekday.

But the way these kids around me on campus practiced Shabbat, it was like a whole different world, something I had never seen before. One day each week they basically removed themselves from the world around them. Their pockets were empty. Their computers and TVs were turned off. As far as they were concerned, SUNY Albany did not exist for that one day each week.

It looked like a very liberating concept, but I was nowhere near ready to embrace such practices for myself. I had more than a full load of classes. I was busy beyond belief, with no burden of familial obligation hanging above me. So I remained a curious observer…

And then I read something that would forever change my outlook, as well as my life routine.

I was taking a course at SUNY Albany with a professor named Jerome Eckstein. Despite the fact that he was very much a self-proclaimed atheist with a bit of a chip on his shoulder about God and Judaism, we had a phenomenal relationship and he became somewhat of a mentor to me.

The class was called American Jewish Philosophy. We were reading a book with an excessively long title by a man named Mordechai Kaplan. Now, for the sake of a full intellectual understanding, you should know that Mordechai Kaplan was by no means an orthodox Jew. He was the founder of a movement of Judaism called Reconstructionism, which for all intents and purposes rejects any notion of a supernatural God. Nevertheless, influences on my life have always come from so many unusual and interesting places.

Kaplan made a point which sounded like this:

The week can be compared to the life of an artist, who is constantly and wildly wielding his brush on the easel. He paints and paints, every moment increasing the beauty of what used to be emptiness.

Logic would dictate that the more he creates, the more beautiful the creation will become.

But it’s simply not true.

On occasion the artist must step away from the painting. He must look at the whole thing from a distance. He must contemplate the best way to continue. This pondering, albeit not a part of the actual painting process, is fundamental to shooting toward a goal of perfection. Without contemplation, there is only mediocrity.

This is like our lives in general. The week is an endless series of creation. We are non-stop just doing.

Shabbat is our moment to step aside from everything we’re used to. To step aside from life and look at everything we do and have done. Shabbat is a time for contemplation of our very existence. We might not create during that time, but all of creations during the other six days are enhanced. It’s an essential part of the process of self-discovery and self-actualization that all humanity could benefit from.

I decided to give it a try.

My life was instantly better. I quickly forgot how I ever didn’t observe Shabbat. It started to become as clear as day to me that just like a day needs to end to end with a night of sleep, a week needs to end with Shabbat.

And thirteen years later I still feel the same way, and continue my observance with the same pleasure.

And I was and am happy.

But don’t think for a moment that my calling this article ‘Black Sabbath’ was me just trying to be cute.

Something was different from that point on. It could be argued that the moment I started fully observing the Sabbath I was no longer a “Reform Jew”.

I didn’t quite understand or appreciate this at the time. After all, I had gained knowledge about Shabbat. And I chose to observe it. Hadn’t I made a “Choice Through Knowledge”?

I quickly discovered how much of a misnomer this phrase truly was. Many of my reform friends started relating to me differently. Some stopped talking to me entirely. I was now considered an outsider of sorts to their exclusive club. True, I had made a choice through knowledge. But apparently I had made the wrong choice. Choice Through Knowledge? More like: Somebody else’s choice, made through either lack of knowledge, or despite any knowledge acquired.

It seemed like it was time for me to make a choice through knowledge to leave the Reform Movement. But clearly that wasn’t my choice either.

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