I wanted to share a version the remarks I shared this past Shabbat, at our first TGIShabbat in over twenty months.
That evening, as on all Friday evenings, we sang the words v’shamru v’nei yisrael et hashabat “The Israelite people shall keep Shabbat… For in six days Adonai made heaven and earth,” u’vayom ha’shevi’t shavat vayinafash, “and on the seventh day Adonai ceased from work and was refreshed” (Exodus 31:16-17).
The ancient rabbis thought that a clue was buried in the final word of this verse: vayinafash, “and was refreshed.” Rabbi Shimon Ben Lakish points out that the word for refreshed, nafash, comes from the same word as nefesh, soul. And that the first part of the word, vai, means woe, as in distress, like woe is me. Rabbi Shimon taught this refers to the idea that, on Friday nights, the eve of Shabbat, “The Holy One, Blessed be He, gives a person an additional soul. And at the conclusion of Shabbat, God removes that additional soul from us. Thus vayinafash. Woe in relation to the soul.” Woe for the additional soul that departs at the conclusion of shabbat. (Some even teach that at Havdalah the ritual to mark the conclusion of Shabbat, when we smell the rich spices, that this ritual is performed in order to revive our spirit, our spirits which feel a sense of loss as shabbat and the neshamah yeterah, additional soul, are whisked away. The spices in this sense serve as smelling salts for the remaining soul, as we experience the departure of the additional one.)
So what do we do with this idea of a neshamah yeterah, an additional soul? How might it change our experience of Shabbat?
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel surveys the various understandings of this idea throughout Jewish tradition. Some say, he notes, that it’s a metaphor. It refers to the “increased sense of spirituality or ease and comfort” we experience on Shabbat. But others take it more literally, he notes, saying that “an actual spiritual entity, a second soul soul, becomes embodied in man on the seventh day.” Under this understanding, he shares a teaching from the Zohar, the foundational work of Kabbalah, of Jewish mystical thought, that each additional soul resides with human beings for the day of Shabbat, then returns to the heavenly sphere, whereupon, the Holy One asks all the souls what new insight, what wisdom they have attained while residing with a human being throughout Shabbat. “Woe to the souls,” the Zohar continues, “Woe to the souls, which, appearing before the presence of God, have nothing to relate,” their human not having learned any new spiritual insights that shabbat, and, “happy is the soul that is able to relate in the presence of Adonai an insight attained by” in effect, their human, “on the seventh day.”
Ratchets up the pressure a little bit doesn’t it? We don’t want to hang our little additional soul out to dry.
So how do we engage with this idea? What truth do we take from the articulation of a notion that on Shabbat, we have an additional soul that resides in us, yearning to soak up insights, soak up preciousness, during the experience of the Shabbat, before its return home.
Well, here is the part where I make the case for generating, cultivating a Shabbat practice for yourself—not just on TGIShabbat when we bring our guest musicians (but wow were they good), but, dare I say it, each and every week.
It doesn’t have to be perfect. As someone I know says, the best workout routine is the one you’ll actually do. So, too, with Shabbat. The best practice is the one you’ll actually look forward to and keep, not some metaphysical ideal that you only engage with in theory. If that means ordering pizza and lighting Shabbat candles, so be it. Generate that spark that says today is special, today is sacred, set apart from the rest of the week.
And, if it’s challenging to think about how to mark Shabbat each week, might I be so bold as to say, let us help: one way of engaging with the preciousness of Shabbat, of giving your additional soul something to chew on, is by joining us once per week, so we can help engage in those eternal practices of Tefilah, prayer, whatever that means to us, opening our hearts in transparency before the Divine; Talmud Torah, Torah study, immersing ourselves in the ever unfolding words of our tradition, looking at the world through a new lens, refracted through words of Torah; and Kehillah Kedoshah, sacred community, feeling the ties that bind, the sense of connection we feel to one another, the way in which that sense of connection buoys us on our earthly journeys.
There are two services, two different vibes each week. Take your pick. Friday night is your stop-off on the way home from work, your wind-down at the end of a trying week, your soul yearning, I believe, whether it knows it or not, for the taste of something a little different, for something in the key of eternity rather than temporality. Starting at 6 o’clock, getting you out of here by 7 so you can be home with your loved ones, soon to be preceded by a 5:30 wine and schmooze, the chance to meet friends, connect over a snack, to be followed by prayer, song, and a bissel, a tiny piece, of Torah.
Saturday mornings are a different flavor, for those looking to get their taste of communal Shabbat when they’ve had a good night of sleep behind them and are looking to work up more of a spiritual sweat. We begin with some joining as early as 9 for lay-led Torah study, others filtering in at 9:45 for the beginning of the service, where we unroll the Jewish equivalent of a yoga or exercise mat— not literally, but through the process of opening up our Siddur (prayer book), stretching out our souls, slowly offering some expressions of praise and gratitude. From there we ease in to the core of our service, making space to pour out our what’s in our hearts, through prayer, and engaging with the riches of our tradition through Torah discussion, opening ourselves up so that our tradition makes an impression upon us and we make one on it, that dialectical process that has forever marked us as the Jewish people. We’ll have you out of services by noon, soon to be followed by kiddush lunch, or to be infused by the spirit of Shabbat in whatever direction your day takes you.
There’s no perfect way to honor Shabbat. I’m always tweaking my own practice. Is this permitted? Is that? How can I engage in such a way that my little additional soul might have something good to report when it returns to the heavenly sphere? And sometimes I don’t have much energy for it. Sometimes after a long week, I’m zoned out for much of the day.
But that’s what we have each other for. To feel the strength of one another and the sacred practices of our tradition, and to make space for the ways they might transform us. Might give those additional souls something to say.
