Aboodi Shabi

One of the most surprising things to have happened to me over the last eighteen months or so has been my exploration of Judaism.
Although my father was Jewish, he wasn’t at all observant, and I was brought up in the Church of England, and then, as an adult, after an initial foray into Buddhism, landing up as a fairly consistent committed atheist, albeit with ‘mystic tendencies’.

And then, quite by chance, I found myself on a train back from a coaching course with a fellow student. We started talking and found an initial connection with his wife being the daughter of my father’s tailor. We then moved on to discuss Judaism, my new companion’s faith.

What he said then has stayed with me ever since, and has been one of the most important things I’d heard in a long time. “Judaism,” he said, “is, for me, not about the religion itself, but a series of practices that help create a sense of community”.

Although I have identified as an atheist for years, I do have a love of ritual, and believe strongly in the importance of ritual as a way to give both structure and meaning to life. But this was something stronger than that. Here was a part of my heritage that I had never integrated, nor even explored, suddenly making immediate sense to me.

The next months were a period of fascinating and very rich exploration – I went to synagogue a few times with a friend, began reading a few books on Judaism and its rituals, and went to Limmud (a Jewish philosophy retreat, which was amazing despite the fact that it involved camping in the rain!). I found much to love. And, the fact that Judaism has space for atheism has helped to make it attractive to me.

But, more important to me than that, has been the practice of observing some, but by no means all, of the rituals. And especially the weekly ritual of Shabbat – the seventh day.

In one of the books I read, there was a lovely explanation of the whole ritual of Shabbat – of preparing for the day of rest by making sure that all chores were done before the lighting of the candles on Friday night, so that one could enter the day of rest with everything done, and enjoy and celebrate the day of disengagement from one’s working routines.

And, each week, unless I am teaching a course, I now spend part of Friday making sure that my home is clean and tidy, and that all my shopping is done (I am not a fastidious observer of Shabbat, so I will cook and wash up etc), and that all my work is complete, so that I can be ready to relax into the evening ritual of lighting candles and switching off.

I am very lucky, too, in that I live next door to the oldest Victorian Turkish Baths in London, so that every Saturday morning I go for a session at the Baths – a weekly ritual that has become very important to me, and very much a part of my day of rest. I love the simplicity of the place – men from all walks of life come there to switch off from the week, to unwind and relax, to sit in companionable silence, or to argue about football, computers and politics. There are men who have been going there every week for fifty or more years, which definitely speaks to the importance of the ritual as a cornerstone of a full life.

And then, after the Bath, the day is mine to do what I like with – no more spending Saturdays catching up on e-mails, or planning a coaching programme, or feeling obligated in some way. The day is now one of withdrawal from the world of engagement. The more I practice this ritual the more important it becomes, and the more I travel and do the work I do, the more I realise how much I need this part of my life.

In an increasingly busy and full life, I think we have a greater need for some way to find peace in the busyness, to acknowledge the cycles and rhythms of life, to find ways to disengage from the everyday world, and take time to restore and feed the soul.

Reflections

How do you replenish your soul?

How might you build a practice to acknowledge the rhythms of life, to provide a “ground” for you to come back to yourself after the engagements and busyness of the week?

Quotation:

“Rest is not just a psychological convenience; it is a spiritual and biological necessity. Perhaps that is why, in most spiritual traditions, “Remember the Sabbath” is more than simply a lifestyle suggestion. It is a commandment…” – Wayne Muller

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