Shabbat matters even more now
And as each week goes by and the likelihood of resuming “business as usual” recedes, I’m seeing a future of iPad-dependent Friday evenings. Image by Yehuda Blum
I bow at the knees, looking to the east, in my kitchen. First left, then right, then center.
Abigail Pogrebin
As Kabbalat Shabbat services proceed on my iPad, streaming my synagogue on Facebook Live, I bow during “L’Cha Dodi,” as I have every Friday night for the past eight weeks that I’ve sheltered in place with my family. It no longer feels odd to tilt to the floor in my kitchen.
Those of us who belong to Central Synagogue in Manhattan were perversely “lucky,” when the restrictions hit; we already had a well-oiled livestream option for Shabbat Services. Since Central’s livestream began years ago, it’s been increasingly important to our clergy to offer Jewish ritual and connection — without cost — to those who were homebound, out of town, or without a temple at all. Hundreds have live-streamed weekly, and hundreds of thousands tune in internationally on the High Holy Days.
But for the moment, we’re all in the same virtual boat, with no possibility of in-person worship. And as each week goes by and the likelihood of resuming “business as usual” recedes, I’m seeing a future of iPad-dependent Friday evenings.
But as much as I rail at the new normal, I’ve found new spirituality in it. Shabbat matters even more now. The chance to connect with fellow congregants is medicinal. The gratitude of surviving another week feels acute. Our clergy offer more pastoral reassurance than I knew I needed. Even as they preside in their respective homes — with backdrops ranging from a ficus plant to family photos — they feel nearer.
I can’t say that the strange snapshots of my clergy’s domesticity can match the majesty of Central’s grand sanctuary; that’s impossible. But this service is a different species now. More personal. Rougher around the edges, in the best sense: The enterprise feels somewhat improvised, and that’s as it should be.
We’re all improvising now. Precision and polish feel not just obsolete, but tone-deaf.
In a time when days blur and I can feel adrift, Friday’s service throws me a rope. It’s sure. Joyful. I manage to bake a decent challah (despite being an insecure cook) after my 20-year-old daughter shows me how it’s done.
As a public service during this pandemic, the Forward is providing free, unlimited access to all coronavirus articles. If you’d like to support our independent Jewish journalism, click here.
My 23-year-old son is in the next room when services begin, but I hear him belt out the songs he grew up with. I’m uplifted by the tumble of exuberant “Shabbat Shalom” greetings on the Facebook chat in real-time — strangers and friends writing from Texas to Toronto; this community is in sync when nothing else is. This ritual offers its own reliable reunion.
My rabbis sermonize about the ways that Torah anticipated plagues and self-quarantine. The cantors’ voices somehow cut to the gut; I am embarrassed when I find myself crying.
I don’t want this to be the future, but as we await the next directives, I’m grateful for this far-flung family and a place to pray.
Abigail Pogrebin is the author of “My Jewish Year: 18 Holidays, One Wondering Jew” and is the immediate past president of Central Synagogue in Manhattan.
A message from our CEO & publisher Rachel Fishman Feddersen
I hope you appreciated this article. Before you move on, I wanted to ask you to support the Forward’s award-winning journalism during our High Holiday Monthly Donor Drive.
If you’ve turned to the Forward in the past 12 months to better understand the world around you, we hope you will support us with a gift now. Your support has a direct impact, giving us the resources we need to report from Israel and around the U.S., across college campuses, and wherever there is news of importance to American Jews.
Make a monthly or one-time gift and support Jewish journalism throughout 5785. The first six months of your monthly gift will be matched for twice the investment in independent Jewish journalism.
— Rachel Fishman Feddersen, Publisher and CEO
