Shabbas, Sabbath

The congregation of Oseh Shalom are a reconstructionist synagogue and they pray beneath a circular dome that is encircled with an interesting, non-right-angle font of the semitic alphabet.  It is comforting, and confusing, to be immersed in three versions of Hebrew, the one that dances around the ceiling, the more familiar one in the prayer book, and then the transliterated one that utilizes English characters to describe the pronunciation of these words.

            Here is a community that believes in the power of words to form and transform, which doesn’t act like words are the bumpers in a bowling alley designed to keep our balls headed straight down the lane to guarantee a better score at the end of the game.  Here wonder, mystery and majesty are embraced, chased and toasted as the words unfold first themselves and then us.

            My friend, Charlie, is our musical guide as the cantor who is familiar with tunes that are both ancient and contemporary, all of which are unfamiliar to me.  He leads with his voice and his guitars and the congregation chimes in.  Dan, who I met at dinner before the service, is seated behind me and his strong singing in my ear is a helpful guide as I let myself get lost in the thanks for the week and the gifts of life.

            Some newer practices have been introduced, we are informed and a member is invited to come to the desk and read a reflection on the Sabbath.  Abby, whose Bat Mitzvah will be tomorrow, leads us in the Kiddush blessing of the cup.  Participants who wish to speak the names of those who need healing come forward, when bidden, to speak their names close to the home of the Torah.

            “Good Shabbas” and a friendly and sincere kiss are shared as we leave for fellowship with sweet delicacies in the fellowship area and the focus, as this Sabbath begins, is a reflection on the gifts and trials of the past week.