sixth & i

There was a monarch who prepared a special wedding canopy. It was intricately carved and adorned; the only thing missing was the bride. So, too the world was created intricately and majestically, but the only thing missing was Shabbat.
-Midrash Genesis Rabba, Chapter 10

On Friday night I attended Shabbat services at the historic Sixth & I synagogue. As I walked in from the freezing cold, Rabbi Edelstein of mesorahDC greeted me by name. Since I met him only briefly on Rosh Hashanah, I was quite impressed, and pleased. I found a siddur and moved towards the sanctuary. The rabbi called after me, "Remember, women sit on the left."

Sigh. I had forgotten this feature of the orthodox service. So I bid dogooderlawyer goodbye for the next hour or so and took a seat in the one-third of the pews cordoned off for the "gentler sex." As I glanced through the mechitzah (partition) of tall ficuses and watched the men file into their far more spacious worship area, I thought to myself, "Why am I here again?" In October I had attended first-day Rosh Hashanah services hosted by this same group in the temple's basement. Unprepared for the separate seating, I found it that morning simply a new experience that required adjustment, but in the afternoon, during Musaf service, when the chazzan was mumbling on the men's side (precluding my following along from the other side), my tolerance for an old-fashioned custom quickly turned into anger at a sexist institution. My lament at returning was finally interrupted by the beginning of the service, and it was then that I remembered why I came.

Rabbi Tzvi Teitelbaum began to speak.

Perhaps my admiration for this gifted, learned, charismatic teacher/scholar is unwarranted. But my Rosh Hashanah was so memorable this year in large part because of his teaching (excerpted in my post on The Chosen). And he didn't disappoint this Friday night, either. At the Carlebach Service, he mentioned before "Yedid Nefesh" (listen here!), that the word yedid, translated as "beloved," comes from the Hebrew word for "hands." So your beloved is literally the one you go hand in hand with! Later in the service, Rabbi Teitelbaum posed a question about why Shabbat evening involves a meal. His answer was an illustration of the reconciliation of mind-body duality that is one of my favorite features of Judaism: the soul naturally wants to celebrate on Shabbat, but the body is at times unwilling. So feeding the body--taking care of its needs--makes it want to celebrate with the soul.

My body definitely enjoyed dinner, but not just because of the food, which happened to be excellent. The company was also outstanding--our table comprised great conversation and the best singing in the room. After dinner, we discussed a portion of the week's Torah portion (Toldot), in which Yakov obtains Eisov's birthright. Dogooderlawyer asked if the text suggested that we ought to admire Yakov, a trickster figure. Rabbi Teitelbaum responded with two stories: the first involved a family who owns a Torah scroll from the war and allows its children to play, jump, and color on it. Do you have the right to steal that Torah? He polled the table: most said no, but I said yes. The second imagined that a friend is drowning in the ocean, and the only life preserver in the area is in a closed store. Do you have the right to steal that preserver? He polled the table again: everyone said yes. His point was that there are times when it is acceptable to commit an otherwise immoral act in the service of a greater good; Eisov has sufficiently de-valued his birthright (by his willingness to sell it to Yakov for a bowl of beans) to make the apparent extortion more understandable.

As I walked home, I thought about how beautiful the synagogue is (take the virtual tour!) and how grateful I am to be within walking distance of shul. Gut Shabbos, everyone! There are only four more days until Shabbat comes again!