Shabat

Shabat

While at the meditation retreat we met several of those kind of people that just radiate a peaceful soul. They include Lee, Eva, and Shlomo. We were very lucky to meet such kindred spirits, so we stayed in touch with each after the retreat.

On Friday, Shlomo invited us to join him and 30 other Israelis for the Friday meal and religious service. We were honored to be invited and of course said yes!

While we have a number of good friends who are Jewish (Lou, Dan, ...), we really do not know much about that faith. Sure, we are familiar with the Old Testament (Torah), but we don't know much about the religion. So, we trotted up the hill to Dharmakot without really knowing what to expect.

Here we are, both raised as Christians, in a 92% Hindu country, but in a Tibetan Buddhist village, celebrating the Jewish Shabat. My, it is a small world!

Many Israelis travel to India (and also Peru, I'm told) following their military service or college years. It is very common to take a "time out" and travel for several months. As with peers from that age group anywhere, for many it is a great chance to escape and have the appropriate amount of drinking, smoking marijuana, and making noise. In some parts of India, the Israelis have a reputation for being a bit too rowdy. But also in common with peers from elsewhere, travelers of this age are often also full of curiosity, youthful energy, and positive spirit. Dharamsala especially brings out those characteristics.

We hiked up the hill to Dharmakot (just a mile or two), and arrived as the cooking was finishing. The most orthodox men were praying, and the less orthodox and the women headed off to wash up. We waited quietly outside. For some time, we heard prayers, songs, and a bit of dancing. Quickly we noted that the songs were very joyous. These folks wanted to celebrate their faith! I thought back to the dreary, lifeless singing in many Christian churches. It always struck me as ironic that the words spoke of rejoicing and the singing sounded like a dirge.

After the orthodox prayers finished, we joined and were rapidly welcomed. "Are you Jewish?" "No." "Welcome to house of God." "Welcome."

We assembled at a small guest house. The orthodox members gathered inside one room, while others waited outside on a porch. The sounds of more prayers and singing came through the doorway. As more people arrived, they joined the prayer group, which eventually moved into the doorway. People joined into a line, with arms on each others shoulders and sang and danced. I think of orthodox members of any religion as very cold and sterile, but not here! These folks were having fun, smiling from ear to ear!

In Jewish communities, the Shabat is celebrated from sunset on Friday to sunset on Saturday. No work is done; all food is prepared in advance. There are strict kosher rules for the types of food, the storage, and preparation, as well as the activities one can perform.

The celebration starts with women lighting candles in the home. Many men attend the synagogue, which is not just a place of prayer and worship but also the community center and meeting place. Since there are no synagogues in Dharmakot, the men replicated that spirit here in a tiny ramshackle room in the foothills of the Himalayas.

Eventually, about thirty people assembled into a circle on the porch. Some were practicing orthodox Jews, some were raised orthodox but not strict practitioners anymore, others were more casual. We sat on mats and pillows for readings from the Torah in Hebrew, and more singing. There was a special prayer of thanks to Jewish women (Ayshes Chayil), partially for preparing the meals but also due to their historical and contemporary importance in the family and Jewish community. I'm told that even if a couple is celebrating Friday dinner by themselves, the man will sing this song in praise and thanks to his wife. That really is special. Now there's a tradition about half of the world's population would like!

An orthodox man took the role of leader for the prayers and readings. Most people knew the words to a few of the songs, but only three or four knew all of the songs (these were the folks raised orthodox). It was fun to watch the faces as the readings and songs progressed. Many positively radiated. Some eyes roved continuously through the circle, connecting with their soul mates. Other eyes were closed, with faces turned upward in song.

Clearly Shabbat is more that just a time for prayer. The feeling of community and kinship was powerful. Everyone took great comfort in the familiarity of the Shabbat food and celebration, particularly in this foreign and sometimes disconcerting land. Perhaps these youthful people were searching for their own path, but their Jewish roots were an important base.

The service was not cold and sterile. Even during readings, some people might talk or laugh, discussing the reading or maybe something else. The songs were full of revelry. Only the most serious moments, such as the blessing of the wine and bread, demanded complete stillness.

The tradition of bread and wine obviously does not represent the body and blood of Christ, but instead the wine represents thanks to the earth, celebrating the original creation. The symbolism of the bread includes that God has promised to provide for his children, as two loaves are blessed on Friday, leaving enough for Saturday without toil. That way the Sabbath can be kept completely for the spiritual not material world. (The woman seated next to us kindly served as interpreter to explain the traditions, though I'm afraid I've probably botched them seriously.)

First the wine is blessed (Kiddush). A small cup was blessed and then shared by everyone present. Before blessing of the bread or challah (hamotzie), the orthodox men excused themselves to wash. Then the bread was blessed and broken for all to share.

Then we ate. And ate. And ate. I have no idea where they got the ingredients! Creating a meal for thirty people required quite a bit of ingenuity. There aren't any big kitchens here, just an occasional small pot and single burner stove. It seemed that everything was cleaned and put to use. Large buckets were full of delicious soups. Trays were covered with bread. Bins were filled with couscous and vegetables. The eggplant was delicious. We ate until overfilled, and there was plenty left.

The singing continued, reminiscent more of singing old favorite tunes around a campfire rather than a church service. When we departed, we could hear up the hill a small group of local children singing their traditional songs. As we walked and as the wind shifted, their songs mixed and alternated with the songs from the Shabbat celebration. The joy and fellowship was the same. People the same everywhere.

We reflected on the incredibly strong sense of community and identity portrayed by these vagabonds. It is clear how Judaism has survived as a religion. More aptly, it is clear how the Jewish people have survived as a community. The bonds that join them were deep, perhaps more so in some than others, but all felt great comfort in their traditions, sitting in the dark high on a hill in the Himalayas...