Embracing Shabbos- The real issue in discussing the Shabbos App

“LOL. My rabbi just misquoted a pasuk in his derasha.”

“Nisht Shabbos Geret. Are we going out later?”

“No one better say the score in the Alabama-LSU game. I recorded it and am watching it after Shabbos.”

When it comes to the new Shabbos App that will allow people to “halachically use a smartphone on Shabbos”, much more than halacha is really coming into play. Even if it can be argued that the app will avoid all Torah and rabbinical prohibitions (although I’m not sure why the concepts of “Zilzul Shabbos” and “Uvda D’chol” are being ignored), the narrowing of the discussion to purely halachic terms, and narrow ones at that, is dangerous, and, I would argue, contrary to the spirit of Torah.

Despite what Yeshayahu Leibowitz argued,Judaism is about  more than purely legal concepts. One does not have to wait until the Neviim Acharonim to see that there are theoretical and moral concepts that are discussed in the Torah in the narrative sections, as well as in many parts of Devarim. Indeed, the very concept of muktzeh is based, at least partially, on the idea of keeping Shabbos from being treated like every other day. Shabbos is about much more than an avoidance of melacha.

The developers of the app can certainly be applauded for trying to minimize chilul Shabbos, but I take issue with the idea that this app is in fact protecting Shabbos. To my mind, it plays into a mindset that sees Shabbos and indeed halacha itself, as a series of restrictions with which we must put up, and even then, only when we can not find a way out of there observance.

Many within the Modern Orthodox world, including myself, applaud the thinking of those like Rav Eliezer Berkowits and those who follow in his footsteps, in suggesting that halacha continues to be fresh and vibrant and, more importantly, alive. This is used to suggest a more activist role when it comes to interpreting Jewish law, suggesting changes that would permit more things, and give voice to the disenfranchised. It would be hypocritical to suggest that concepts and values can be used only to permit and never to prohibit. In other words, even if it was only Chazal who could technically establish something as a derabbonon, conceptually it should be possible by later halachic consensus.

Of course, I’m not sure which should need to use such terms. In the end of the day, chipping away at the atmosphere of Shabbos comes with a price, one that we already see when it comes to those who are using these phones already without any “permissible” app. It seems to me that rather than chip away at things to make Shabbos “easier”, it is time to focus educationally and communally on the spirit of Shabbos, so that Shabbos will be embraced, rather than being  merely tolerated, or worse.

As Shabbos Ebbs Away- Some thoughts heading into my last week in Israel

When I was a boy, I loved “short” Shabboses. Of course, they lasted 25 hours just like any Shabbos, but at least in the winter, Shabbos ended early enough to catch some college football. At some point I grew up a bit and came to enjoy Shabbos. Still, even then, I rarely felt sad when Shabbos was over. I had taken out of it what I could. As such, I never  really “got” the need for besamim at havdalah. This summer has changed that.

Reish Lakish teaches that on Shabbos we get a neshoma yeseira. Commonly mistranslated as an additional soul, it really means that on Shabbos we have a heightened awareness of, and connection to, our neshama. As Shabbos ends, we say a bracha on besamim, which is, somehow, supposed to comfort us at the loss of the neshoma yeseira.

Not for the first time this summer, those of us in Israel went into Shabbos with tremendous sadness. A soldier had been captured by Hamas. The rav at the minyan where I davened on Friday evening, gave a hauntingly poignant drasha during which, judging by his tone of voice, he was fighting back tears. Lecha Dodi sang to the tune of Eili Tzion only reinforced the sad mood. Even Yedid Nefesh could not, even slightly, lift my spirits.

Then Shabbos started to work its magic. The combination of good friends, good food, meaningful discussions, and lots of talmud Torah brought me to a different place. It was as if I had been magically relocated to a world of total joy. Before I knew it, it was time for mincha. As I noticed the sun beginning its descent, I snapped back to reality. I knew that soon it would be dark. Shabbos would end, and with it, the illusion that all was alright in the world. The radio and internet would be turned on, hoping against hope that there would be some good news. Of course, after Shabbos, these hopes were quickly crushed.

This summer has been for me a “yom shekulo Shabbos”. As I travelled through the land, met its people, touched its stones, and ate its fruit, I felt what I can only describe as a neshama yeseira. Each sunset moved me, every word of Torah was an encounter with the Divine. I have met great talmidei chachamim and scholars. Even through the terrible pain of the kidnappings and subsequent war, despite the many, many tears, or maybe, somewhat paradoxically because of them, I have felt more attached to Eretz Yisrael, Torat Yisrael and Medinat Yisrael than ever before. The thought that it will soon be over, that tearing myself away from Israel, will feel like tearing a bandage from a wound, saddens me beyond words.

How can I comfort myself? What is the besamim that can restore my sense of equilibrium? It seems to me that besamim is used as part of havdalah because out of all of the senses, smell was seen by Chazal, in both nigleh and nistar, as the most spiritual of senses. The smell of the besamim reminds us, that even though we are about to lose the soulful connection that we have felt, that it is only a temporary loss. In less than a week’s time, we will again experience the fragrant beauty of Shabbos.

I take comfort in the thought that I am returning to my family, and that maybe, just maybe, in the not so distant future, not only will I be back where I belong, but we will be back, not temporarily, but permanently in the land that is “kulo Shabbos” and “kulo tov”.

Yamim Ba'im- Kabbalat Shabbat at Jerusalem's First Station

While according to Jewish tradition Eliyahu HaNavi will announce the arrival of the Moshiach, who will announce the arrival of Elyahu HaNavi? I think I saw some worthy candidates this past Friday afternoon.

In the 16th Century, Kabbalos Shabbos was introduced in Tzefat by the kabbalists. While today, Kabbolas Shabbos has become a formal part of the Friday night service, it started out quite differently. Combining eight perakim of tehillim with the kabbalistic “Lecha Dodi”, it was originally sung before Shabbos, accompanied by music. The rabbis from Tzefat modeled this on the talmudic idea of going out to the field to welcome the Shabbos queen.

In the last decade, there has been a Jewish renaissance  among secular Israelis. While this interest is expressed through Jewish learning and practice, it is decidedly not halachic. In cities around Israel, Kabbalat Shabbat has taken root among the chiloni community. Intrigued by this idea, I went to see and experience the communal Kabbalat Shabbat in Jerusalem.

As I entered the Old Central Train Station, which has been transformed into an upscale outdoor mall and open space, I saw approximately 200 people sitting on plastic chairs. The crowd included men and women, young and old, religious and secular. Men with velvet black kippot stood waiting near women wearing shorts and t-shirts. Couples dressed in a way that identified them as coming from the national-religious camp, mixed easily with their secular counterparts. The band, which was made up of four men and one woman, seemed to be a mix of religious and secular musicians.

Then, the most soulful Yedid Nefesh I have ever heard, began. It wasn’t just the musical accompaniment that moved me so deeply. It was the setting, the people, and the sun beginning its descent over Jerusalem, as well as a sense that something magical was happening here. I closed my eyes, swayed to the music, and sang along un-self-consciously. It was followed by a devar Torah by a bare-headed man, and a moving Carlebach-y “Lechu Neranena”.

I found myself thinking about what I was observing. For the halachicly fastidious, there was much to critique. Still, it seemed to me that to use such a prosaic calculus was to miss the unique experience that I was missing. People from groups that don’t commonly interact, together sang the most sublime of words. Jews who long ago had sworn off the Shabbos of their ancestors, were trying to create their own. Could it be that none of this is at least somewhat pleasing to God?

I looked around wondering if the one who would announce the arrival of Eliyahu Hanavi might just be there. Could it be the older gentleman who sat joyously singing with such emotion? Perhaps it was the young woman dressed in neo-hippy dress, who was giving each newcomer a pamphlet which contained a warm welcome, and the words to Kabbalat Shabbat. Several children looked like worthy candidates. With experiences like this, perhaps they will grow up with the ability to connect with all Jews. Even as I felt sad thinking that it might take a while for them to reach the age where they would share the joyous news of the prophet's arrival, I was filled with hope that I might yet live to see that joyous moment.