Posts tagged tales from the vault
OR: How We Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Kiddush
You might be surprised to learn — we shouldn’t assume. Rather, we were surprised to learn — that Shabbat is the most important ritual in Judaism. Derived from the root Shin-Beit-Tav, the Sabbath (an anagram, for Hashem’s sake!) is the only Jewish ritual that’s actually name-dropped in the Ten Commandments, and we’re not just talking about our boy Charlton’s star turn. The commandment to remember the sabbath is so important, in fact, that it appears even before the commandment to honor thy mother and father - a commandment so natural, so simple, so undeniably human one wonders why it isn’t top of the list, a place held instead by G-d’s almost neurotic insistence that he is indeed the Lord, our G-d. But, pray tell: Was G-d not the father of all of us? (Or mother, if you’re going to be like that.)
We digress - but only slightly, and with a distinct lack of digression.
So what the fuck, then. What’s up with this Shabbat business? Ma Nish Ta Na Ha Laila, huh? What makes it so important that, in native Hebrew, it’s not just a thing you do, it’s the whole damn day - there’s no other word for Saturday besides Shabbat. Well, even the most ignorant among us certainly know the traditional trappings - no handling of money, no using electricity, no working, a quick trip to the temple (or four.) Maybe it’s just G-d’s version of Family Games Night.
We should preface this business by admitting that we here at Jewbauchery do not keep the sabbath. With all due respect to friends who do, we think our lives would be considerably less interesting (though arguably, considerably more spiritually engaging) if we did. And since our relationship with G-d is our personal matter, we won’t really touch on the religious aspects but rather, the heart of it all, the thing we Jews love to tout:
Welcome to a new feature here at Jewbauchery: Tales From The Vault. Effectively, it’s story-telling time down at the Jewbauchery campfire.
Jay here, with a personal story bound to tickle your fancy (Or your ivories. Or your ovaries. Welp. I’m sure I’ll tickle something.)