4 | MARCH 9 • 2023
PURELY COMMENTARY
guest column
A Lifetime of Shabbos Dinners
M
any perspectives are
incorporated into the
ways the Sabbath is
celebrated. Some people cele-
brate it as the most important
holiday in the Jewish calendar.
Some say, since
it is the most
frequent holiday,
it is the most
important. Others
say because it is
the only holiday
mentioned in
the Ten Commandments, it is
therefore the most important.
Still others might point to the
fact that since an entire book
of the Talmud is devoted to the
Sabbath, this alone points to its
importance.
I can’t say that I agree or
disagree with these educated
and intellectual perspectives.
What I do know is that my
family has regularly celebrated
the Sabbath nearly every Friday
night of my life. And, because
it is something so very special,
I have, on my own, celebrated
it nearly every week of my life.
While it may be true that its
specialness is its importance, it
seems to me more the other way
around. That is, because it is so
ordinary and regular, week in
and week out, the regularity and
very ordinariness is that which
makes it so unique.
However, even in my lifetime,
many of the elements of the
celebration have changed. In my
grandfathers’ homes, the men
came home from work as early
as possible. They washed and
bathed, so they could put on
fresh clothes and were ready to
sit down for supper as near to
sundown as they possibly could.
I remember my grandmother
lighting the Shabbos candles,
gently waving her hands as
if beckoning the good spirits
into the room. My dad and my
uncles sang the prayer welcom-
ing the peace and solemnity
of the day of rest, and then the
extended Shabbos blessing
over the wine. Then there was
a succinct “Ha motzi” blessing
thanking God for the grain
from the earth. Then the order-
ly mayhem of feeding 14 indi-
viduals a three-course chicken
dinner with hot tea and dessert.
The five baby girls had
already been fed, diapered,
swaddled and lined up in
the hall next to the dining
room. The three boys were
dismissed to the living room
where the eldest tuned in the
14-inch black-and-white TV
to I Remember Moma and The
Friday Night Fights, all while the
grownups sipped their hot tea
and argued politics, exchanged
family news and teased one
another as they had for the
20-some years they’
d been hav-
ing Shabbos dinner.
THE NEXT GENERATION
When I was 5 or 6, my grand-
mother’s age and infirmity
dictated she could no longer
prepare such a feast on a weekly
basis. Each of the five couples of
my mother’s sibship held their
own very similar Shabbos din-
ner, diminished mostly in scale.
At our house, the major alter-
ations were a few small changes
in the melodies of the prayers
and blessings, the absence of
hot soup during the spring
and summer, and the bent of
the after-dinner conversation,
which mostly meant that my
sister and I stayed at the table
because there was nothing of
redeeming value on TV at that
hour.
As I grew older, the major
changes in Friday night dinner
were mostly secular in that we
were expected to have opinions
during the after-dinner conver-
sations. Conversation ranged
from the importance of follow-
ing directions to the meaning
of political parties and from
favorite flavors of ice cream to
the underlying principles of
Kashrut, the Jewish dietary laws.
And, rather than the kids
retiring to the couch, my father
practiced his post-prandial
somnolence while we washed
and dried the dinner dishes.
There wasn’t anything novel
or unusual about Shabbos
dinner. Our Catholic friends
ate fish on Friday, and our
Protestant friends had Sunday
dinner after church. As we
entered our teenage years, we
learned that permission to
attend a dance or social event
was highly unlikely to be grant-
ed on a Friday evening. In later
years, when we were living at
school, a call home was expect-
ed on Friday evening, and you
could expect a thorough grilling
if you forgot.
MY OWN SHABBOS
DINNERS
Another 10 years further on,
on the drive back to Ann Arbor
after our honeymoon, my wife,
Lindy, and I had a relatively
brief but serious discussion
about Shabbat dinner. I was sur-
prised to hear myself say, “I can’t
quite explain why, but Shabbat
dinner is important to me, and
I’
d like to make it a family time.
”
This led to a conversation
about which rituals and tra-
ditions we liked and might
include in our own Friday eve-
ning rite. It turned out that we
both wanted surprisingly simi-
lar elements in our own Shabbat
ritual. We’
d light candles with
the candlesticks her mother
gave us. We’
d sing an abbrevi-
ated version of the blessings
over the wine and bread. Lindy
despised Mogen David concord
wine. Initially we did not live
near an established Jewish bak-
ery. So, Lindy got in the habit
of making our challah bread.
The habit became a tradition
to the extent that we can count
with our fingers the number of
Shabbat dinners where we have
not had a home-baked challah.
And, so within a couple of
weeks, we’
d found and assem-
bled the pattern of a lifetime of
Shabbat dinners. Oh, of course,
there have been additions and
alterations. Along the way, we
found a set of beautiful but
Ray Buch
continued on page 7