Shabbat from the Outside Looking in

Last Friday night, Sarah and I were invited to share Shabbat dinner with a few friends from Givat Excavations. Annie, Aviv, and Avi all share an apartment a short taxi drive away. They are all former American’s who have lived here for some years now after making Aliyah. Daniel, a native New Yorker in Israel for a Jewish program, also works with us on the dig and joined us for dinner. Annie is the epitome of a Jewish mother, fussing over every little detail of the meal, seating arrangements, and asking you if you want more of a certain dish while your plate and mouth are still stuffed with food. She kept the meal kosher (it was a meat night) asking only that Sarah and I contribute wine and plastic utensils. I went ahead and made a potato Indian dish to share, adding to the meaty rice dish, Israeli salad (insisted by Daniel), Hummus, Challah bread, and parve chocolate cake Daniel brought.
The night continued to be very unconventional compared to the range of Shabbat dinner’s I have previously experienced in Israel. Let me repeat that-very VERY unconventional.

However, it was an excellent example of how Shabbat dinner can bring together a group of people for an indoor family-like social gathering. Even though I was the only non-Jewish guest I felt very welcome, and like I was just spending some quality time with good friends. They are all such fun loving people, but when things got a little too crazy (“unconventional”) in conversation, Avi and I stepped outside for cigarettes. He talked some about his service in the Israeli army and what it meant for him to live in Jerusalem. He told me that he really doesn’t pay attention to politics and wants to keep it that way, because for him, he is in Jerusalem to live and have community-not to make a political/Zionist statement. When our conversation fizzled out to inward contemplation, I took to listening for what was going on around me outside the apartment complex.
Almost every window was illuminated against the night-laughter, prayers, and conversation pouring onto the street. Singling my hearing in on each apartment, I realized how different the gatherings were by the many languages being spoken, and while watching people say goodnight, the different dress codes. After we had been silent for a while just listening I said to Avi, “Wow. You don’t get this in America”. To which he responded, “No, No you don’t.”
These past Shabbat dinners I’ve attended have always felt cozy and low key, but usually a last resort in response to the shutting down of the city. I remember walking in Tel Aviv with Justin and Kamillah on a Friday night, feeling as if I was in the middle of a ghost town. The majority of my feeling towards Shabbat have been resentment for inconveniencing my travels and preventing activities on days off work. However, sitting in the silent street, watching and listening in on the little lit windows, made me realize how special Shabbat can be. It is a way for everyone to slow down and see their friends/families without modern distractions, as there is nothing open for the weekend and everybody should be off of work. Earlier in my stay here I would say Shabbat forces you to do nothing else but eat dinner and socialize with whoever shows up or invites you, but now I would say that Shabbat in Israel lets you slow down from your busy week, catch up with friends and family, talk, drink, and eat together in world that moves so fast it feels like it will never stop. What other country in the world stops for a day and a half to participate in the same activity, providing this strong sense of community and encouraging family strength? What other country stops moving despite the amount of non-observers willing to give business to owners who need the money? Conclusion-Israel is incredibly unique and I can really understand why people like Avi would serve in the IDF, and most importantly why non-Zionist Jews would want to be a citizen of Israel.

Rebekah Renfro