Five years ago, Amy and I attended a Shabbat service at Temple Rodef Shalom in Falls Church, an experience that I blogged about at that time. When I started at Virginia Theological Seminary last month, I was delighted to see another Jewish congregation, Beth El Hebrew Congregation, directly across the street from campus. My love of interfaith education and experiencing the religious customs of others once again kicked in, and a group of friends from VTS and I joyfully made the trek across the highway for last night's Soul Shabbat.
Shema Yisrael. Hear, O Israel. Hear the voice of God calling.
The word "soul" in the title of the service was no accident, because that's exactly where it hit me - and there were more than a few tears shed. There was something almost indescribable in the sudden, jarring realization that I wasn't just attending a Jewish service - I and all of my friends sharing the experience with me were being pulled back through the centuries to the very roots of our Christianity. The history of the Jewish people - of repression, of tragedy, of exile - is our history, and yet despite all that they endured, Judaism remains a faith of hope, a faith of joy, a faith of celebration. And the Shabbat, to flip that last phrase, is a celebration of faith.
Shema Yisrael. Hear, O Israel. Hear the call of your past.
I so enjoyed watching the joy on the faces of my friends as they each experienced in their own way the wonder of what was happening. For one in particular, it was quite literally a transformative moment - an instance in which, as she said later, she suddenly felt reconnected to her own call after months of feeling separated from it.
Shema Yisrael. Hear, O Israel. Hear the call to return to your beginning.
And the music - mournful, reflective, joyful. It literally ran the gamut, and as a result so did my emotions. The cantor's singing of Stephen Richards' "R'tzei" (a video of another performance of the song is linked here) brought me to tears (and made me question, just for an instant, whether I am too emotional to be a priest, since I am moved to tears so easily). And a rendition of this poem, with music playing just below the voice of the speaker, was equally moving:
Ein Li Eretz Acheret (I Have No Other Country)
I have no other country
even if my land is aflame
Just a word in Hebrew
pierces my veins and my soul -
With a painful body, with a hungry heart,
Here is my home.
I will not stay silent
because my country changed her face
I will not give up reminding her
And sing in her ears
until she will open her eyes
I have no other country
even if my land is aflame
Just a word in Hebrew
pierces my veins and my soul -
With a painful body, with a hungry heart,
Here is my home.
I won't be silent because my country
has changed her face.
I will not give up reminding her
And sing in her ears
until she will open her eyes
I have no other country
until she will renew her glorious days
Until she will open her eyes
I have no other country
even if my land is aflame
Just a word in Hebrew
pierces my veins and my soul -
With a painful body, with a hungry heart,
Here is my home.
With a painful body, with a hungry heart,
Here is my home.
Shema Yisrael. Hear, O Israel. Hear the songs of your past, and your present, and your future.
It was a beautiful evening, with wonderful conversation after with the Rabbi. I left feeling renewed, relaxed, and centered, and with an urge to experience more of Judaism as a way of strengthening the foundation of my journey toward the priesthood.
It truly was Shabbat Shalom - a peaceful Sabbath.
