How to Run a Traditional Jewish Household Read online

  27. Flaying skins

  28. Tanning

  29. Scraping

  30. Marking out

  31. Cutting

  32. Writing

  33. Erasing

  IV. Providing shelter

  34. Building

  35. Demolishing

  V. Creating fire

  36. Kindling a fire

  37. Extinguishing a fire

  VI. Work completion

  38. Giving the “final hammer stroke,” that is, completing some object or making it usable

  VII. Transporting goods

  39. Carrying in a public place

  In order to preserve the spirit of the Sabbath and to prevent its violation, the Rabbis specified three other prohibited categories.

  1. Muktzeh—things that are not usable on Shabbat (such as work tools) should not be handled.

  2. Sh’vut—an act or occupation that is prohibited as being out of harmony with celebration of the day. For example, if an act is prohibited to Jews on Shabbat, then a Jew may not ask a non-Jew to do it for him. (However, on occasion there are ways of getting around this latter restriction—see p. 37.)

  3. Uvdin d’chol—(weekday things). Some activities are “weekday” in spirit even though they do not involve direct labor or prohibited work. Discussing business or reading papers from the office are prohibited on these grounds. Similarly, most sports are considered uvdin d’chol even though they are technically permissible, as, for example, when tennis is played inside an area enclosed by an eruv. (An eruv halachically transforms public areas into private domain. Thus, technically, one is permitted to carry racquet and ball on a tennis court located within the eruv area. But all that exertion and sweat—it’s uvdin d’chol.)

  Beyond the thirty-nine prohibitions and the three rabbinic categories, there was also the very large principle of “the honor of Shabbat,” creating a special spirit of the day as the Torah intended. Rabbis of the Talmudic times and of later generations took this principle most seriously, and they proceeded to do everything in their interpretive powers to set aside the Sabbath from the weekday.

  Thus, even after the oral law was finally committed to writing (the Talmud, sixth century), the process of defining the Sabbath day continued, including the addition of relevant prohibitions. These were all part of the attempt to remain faithful to tradition and create a special day. Today, we observe a variety of restrictions on Shabbat: no turning on electricity (which is considered a form of kindling fire), no use of television, radio, telephone, vacuum cleaner, food processor, public transportation, or automobile; no cutting paper or fabric, sewing, mending, laundry, writing, playing a musical instrument; no home repair jobs, arts and crafts, sports activities of a certain type, or business activity of any sort; no cooking, baking, squeezing a sponge, opening sealed mail, pushing electric buttons such as doorbell or elevator; no shopping.

  There is some variation in practice. For example, some Orthodox Jews will not play tennis, but will play catch in an area that has an eruv. Some will set their dishwashers on a Shabbos clock; others would not wash dishes even by hand, unless they are needed for the next Sabbath meal.

  There are certain apartment buildings and even Orthodox synagogues where the elevator is pretimed, that is, it stops at each floor automatically, so that no one has to operate it; and there are some people who will not use these Shabbos elevators, as they are called. Some Orthodox Jews will tear foil, toilet paper, and so forth. Some will open paper wrappings of food. Some will do neither, and will therefore pretear any sort of paper and open all boxes and cans of food on Friday afternoon before sundown.

  The Rabbis interpreted not leaving one’s place as not going out of the city limits beyond a distance of two thousand cubits. A cubit is approximately twenty-two inches, so two thousand of them equal roughly a quarter of a mile. City limits do not signify a municipal boundary. They refer to the last house in a built-up locality. If one has to go beyond, it is possible to do so by preparing beforehand. If some sort of food is placed at the outermost limit of the two thousand cubits, this is considered a “dwelling place,” and the person is allowed to walk another two thousand cubits. This is called an eruv techumim, an eruv of limits. In the European towns where Jews were farmers, this kind of eruv was set up between the edge of the farm and the synagogue, so that a Jew could walk there even though it was beyond the formal distance limit.

  PREPARATION

  Islands of time do not appear on their own, nor merely as a result of imagination. There is a great deal of planning and preparation that goes into creating an island of time. For the well organized, this means starting on Wednesday; for most of us, it also includes a last-minute madness, the tension-producing countdown before candlelighting each week.

  One should definitely not approach Shabbat the way I do, and each year I try to change my ways. But human nature being what it is, I suspect half the Orthodox Jews enter it leisurely and the other half pump adrenaline on Friday afternoons. The amazing thing is that when the moment of Shabbat descends upon us—as it inexorably does, for the sun will not stay another moment despite our pleas—an utter serenity falls over the frantic and the reposed alike. After I light my candles, always at the very last moment, I feel a sense of relaxation sweep through me, more total than I could ever dream of achieving in a yoga exercise class.

  What must one do in advance to prepare for Shabbat? Everything!

  On Shabbat itself, there is no cooking, no cleaning, no laundry, no shopping, no business, so literally everything needed for Saturday must be done before Friday evening candlelighting. Some of these tasks can be done only at the last moment, although far fewer fall into this category than a brinkmanship mentality would allow. In fact, mental preparation for the coming Shabbat really begins early in the week. For example, if on Monday morning you are ordering something from a department store, unless it were essential, you would request not to have it delivered on Saturday. Receiving a chance delivery that doesn’t involve an exchange of money is not forbidden; it’s simply that the United Parcel Service man—his uniform, his truck, his department-store packages—intrudes the workaday world into a Sabbath household that has temporarily set that world aside.

  The physical tasks fall into three broad categories: (1) getting the house in order, (2) preparing the meals, and (3) getting oneself ready. One would be hard put to call these tasks spiritual (who can find godliness in polishing a silver challah tray?). Yet, without this kind of preparation, one could not as easily be transported into holy time.

  THE HOUSE (APARTMENT)—CLEANING UP

  The house should be cleaned or tidied well so that family, guests, the Sabbath angels and the Sabbath Queen will notice the difference. No, Jews don’t really believe in angels looking for dust on the coffee table. I speak here of the aura of Shabbat. If your house is spotless all the time, then bring in fresh flowers or something else to distinguish and honor the day.

  You can’t swab the kitchen floor or shovel the snow after dinner Friday night, or run the washing machine, or pick the tomatoes on Saturday morning, so plan ahead. Polish whatever silver you’ll be using for Shabbat, such as wine cups, challah tray and knife, candlesticks, wine bottle, cake knife, and serving pieces; silver polishing is prohibited on Shabbat, and cannot be done after sunset. Many families try to change their bed linens on Friday in honor of Shabbat, although it gets a little tough to do everything on those short winter Fridays.

  SETTING A SHABBAT TABLE

  The table should be set with a clean, fresh cloth, the best china, crystal, silver, and flowers. (If you happen to be a paper-plate user, then get special paper plates for Shabbat, just as you would for a party.)

  The Shabbat table is set with these special items:

  Wine

  Wine cups (bechers)

  Two challot

  Challah tray

  Challah knife

  Challah cover

  Candlesticks

  Nearby, there should be bookle
ts for each person containing zemirot (Sabbath table songs) and Birkat Hamazon, the Grace recited after meals.

  The illustration shows what a traditional Shabbat table will generally look like.

  For Shabbat lunch, the table will be set up exactly the same way as in the illustration, except that the candles will have burned down and will not be replaced. When another male-head-of-household guest is expected, a wine becher and two covered challah loaves or two challah rolls might also be placed at his setting. Orthodox tradition is strongly male-oriented, and this reflects itself in things large and small. However, there is more room for sharing the head-of-household role yet still remain within the boundaries of tradition than one would think.

  For example, in an egalitarian home, there might be a wine cup at each plate, or wine at the father’s plate and challah at the mother’s, or reversed—wine at the mother’s plate and challah at the father’s.

  Most Orthodox families, however, even feminist ones, stick to the ancient model where husband-father leads the rituals. It’s hard to change time-hallowed custom that carries weight equal to Mosaic law.

  CANDLESTICKS AND CANDLES

  In many homes, mine included, the candlesticks are set up on a side table nearby, rather than directly on the dining table. The reason for this is that candlesticks cannot be removed all during Shabbat even though the candles have long since burned out. Candlesticks fall into the category of muktzeh—items that cannot be handled on Shabbat. Any item whose use is forbidden on Shabbat may not be handled, despite the fact that one has not the slightest intention of using it. (For this same reason, one would not lean up against a car on Shabbat nor sit inside of it, even though the motor is off.)

  But wait! What about the candles and candlesticks we light especially for Shabbat? Why can’t we touch them during Shabbat? The answer is one of those fine points of Jewish law: it is permitted to light the candles for Shabbat but not on Shabbat, for that would constitute kindling of fire, which is proscribed. The candles may burn during Shabbat, for it is a mitzvah, a requirement, to enjoy light and heat on that day; however, they must be lit before Shabbat actually starts.

  Since there is no guarantee against spills, and since I haven’t been able to come up with a magic trick to exchange Friday night’s soiled tablecloth with a fresh one for Shabbat lunch without touching the candlesticks—I’ll have to continue lighting my candles on a sideboard. (In the old days, the Shabbat candlesticks, or “Shabbos lights” as they were called, were suspended over the table from the ceiling, but nowadays we all have electrical fixtures up there.)

  Although most any candles may be used, generally we use special Sabbath candles that are sold as such. They can be purchased in most supermarkets in a Jewish neighborhood or in a religious articles store. Their size is such that they burn approximately two hours, or three if refrigerated beforehand. This is sufficiently long to get through Shabbat dinner, but not that long so as to burn unattended while the family sleeps.

  APPLIANCES

  All radios, phonographs, TVs, hair dryers, washing machines, and dryers are turned off before candlelighting. No need, however, to disconnect electric clocks.

  SETTING THE LIGHTS AND THE SHABBOS CLOCK

  One of the distinguishing characteristics of Orthodox Judaism is the approach to electricity on Shabbat. It isn’t that we don’t use electricity, it’s that we don’t operate it. So in preparation, we set the lights we’ll be needing for the next twenty-five hours, and turn off all other unnecessary lights. That includes the automatic refrigerator and closet lights whose bulbs we unscrew slightly, for otherwise they would go on each time the door is opened.

  Every Orthodox Jew has some kind of Shabbos clock in his/her home. A Shabbos clock is a timer, to which any number of lights in the house are attached, to go off and on at preset times. Shabbat symbolizes light and warmth, and yet one does not want the lights burning all night. In our house, for example, we installed a master Shabbos clock (connected to the central fuse box) that controls living room, dining room, kitchen, and some bedroom fixtures. Every Friday afternoon, we set the off-on times and turn the clock on. The lights are usually timed to go off at midnight on Friday (sometimes a gentle hint for guests who might stay too late on this night) and on again at noon on Saturday when we come home from shul. Some people have their houses wired differently; every light switch in every room has its own timer, and can be set independently. Nevertheless, certain lights are generally left on all twenty-five hours—bathroom lights, hallway lights, outside light for guests.

  THE SHABBOS GOY

  Before Shabbos clocks were invented, another solution was used—the Shabbos goy, whom the rabbis “invented” to resolve problems of restrictions on Shabbat. According to Jewish law, a non-Jew—which is what the word goy means and which should not be used derogatorily—was not bound by any of the prohibitions of Shabbat. As long as a Jew didn’t explicitly instruct a non-Jew during the Shabbat itself to perform this or that forbidden activity, a goy was permitted to do it. Thus, the name Shabbos goy. I remember our Shabbos goy in Seattle, a nice teenaged Catholic boy who would stop by every Friday afternoon to receive his instructions—and some coins—from my mother. Later that night, after dinner, he would return to our house and go independently about his switch-flicking business.

  REFLECTIONS

  I must admit to a bit of ambivalence about the electric-light situation. While I wouldn’t want the law reinterpreted—as Conservative and Reform Judaism have done—I do feel conscious of the problems of energy waste under a system that doesn’t permit the flexibility of flicking a switch. For example, we don’t use the upstairs hall lights or bathroom lights except for occasional moments throughout the Shabbat, yet you can’t program when someone is going to walk through the hall or use the toilet, so the light must burn continuously.

  We have done two things. One is to cut down. Unless it’s an emergency, or a special situation, such as the need to do a lot of quiet reading, we don’t leave on the lights in the bedrooms. In our hallway, we turn on a wall lamp that uses half of what the regular ceiling fixtures use. In our bathrooms, we unscrew all but one bulb of the three- to four-bulb fixtures. Unspiritual as it is, that, too—going into a dimly lit bathroom—is part of the ambiance. If we’ve invited guests who are not Sabbath observant and who would automatically turn off the bathroom lights, we tape the switch in its on position before Shabbat begins.

  The second thing I do is rationalize. I say to myself that, by and large, our family, as a unit, doesn’t use any more light than we would on an ordinary weekday if everyone went up to his/her own bedrooms after dinner and switched on the lights.

  Whatever the arrangement, at times it can be rather inconvenient, such as when you want to read in bed in the middle of the night and forgot to set up your bed lamp on a Shabbos clock, or worse, when someone thoughtlessly leaves the light on in the bedroom and you have to sleep with a pair of bleepers over your eyes all night. (One thing we’ve learned: never put a white, cotton bedspread over a lamp to block out the light. Fall into a deep sleep and the whole place will go up in smoke.)

  Moreover, of all the restrictions of Shabbat that are linked to the Biblical categories of labor, creativeness, and the kindling of fire, this one seems most remote of all.

  Nevertheless! Electric lights are part of the total package, one piece of the whole gift of Shabbat. It is a commitment of our own choosing, one that we have lovingly made; it is the manner in which we identify ourselves. Having done so, then if our lights should happen to be on or off inappropriately, we simply take that in our stride.

  On the positive side, inconvenience or not, somehow walking into a room and not being able to flick a light switch does contribute to the total mood and feeling of the day. And in a covert sort of way, it serves another function: it generates a sense of family time that goes beyond special mealtimes. There is something nice about family and associated friends gathering in the living spaces of the house, instead of each goi
ng his or her own way. Sometimes two or three of us sit in the living room on Friday night after dinner, reading or talking quietly, while we hear the sounds of laughter from the breakfast room where some of the children sit and snack with their friends, or two or three of them lie sprawled out on the carpet under the lamp in the hallway, playing a board game.

  And finally, lest you think Orthodox Jews can’t find a way in every instance to observe the law in comfort, some enterprising souls have invented a Shabbos lamp (as opposed to Shabbos clock), a fluorescent lamp with a shade that slides over it to block out the light. Some say this is a legal fiction which circumvents the law. I prefer to see it as a technique by which one finds oneself relatively undiscomfited, yet reminded that the day and all of its human actions are special.

  To one who is completely unfamiliar with the law, it almost seems petty and silly to go to such lengths over such a little thing as throwing a light switch. But this is one of the many basic steps in creating that special aura of Shabbat.

  PRETEARING

  Prepare facial tissues or Shabbat toilet tissue for the bathroom, precut paper towels, sheets of aluminum foil. Tearing, changing something from an unusable form to a usable one, was forbidden on Shabbat. Later, the halachic discussion arose as to whether this injunction extended to household paper goods, items such as paper towels and toilet paper which are perforated, or aluminum foil and plastic wrap which are used in connection with food serving and storage. Today, some Orthodox Jews do tear perforated paper on Shabbat; others do not, depending on whose interpretation of the law one follows. In dense Jewish neighborhoods, special paper supplies for Shabbat are sold.

  When I was a child, and tissues were a luxury to be used only for colds, it was my job each Friday to prepare the Shabbat paper. Until I was ten or eleven, I used to tear it into threes by hand and it would take me ten minutes. Suddenly I invented the wheel. Using a razor blade, I could slice through an entire roll of toilet paper in thirty seconds. How clever!, I said to myself each week. Growing up in a traditional Jewish household in the forties had its own unusual gratifications.