A couple years before I was born, my family lived in Israel. My parents and two older brothers lived for half a year on a kibbutz, and for the other half of the year in Jerusalem. They were trying it out to see if they might want to move to Israel permanently. It didn’t quite take, and they ultimately moved back to Ann Arbor, where I came along. But the trip planted seeds. All of us have developed strong ties to Israel, and my oldest brother did wind up moving there right after college.
One of the challenges my family had when they came back home was breakfast cereal. In Israel in those days, all the kids ate sugar cereals—and other sugary foods—all the time. It was just the culture. My parents didn’t like that, but they didn’t have too many options while they were there. But when they came back to the States, things were different: Corn flakes, Wheaties, Rice Crispies—these were more what they had in mind.
My brothers, of course, protested, and a compromise was reached: Six days a week thou shalt eat Cheerios (or some other not so sweet cereal), but on the seventh day thou mayest consume Frosted Flakes or Honeycomb or Cocoa Puffs. Thus was born the Feigelson family custom of Shabbat cereal—a custom which persists in all of our homes to this day, and a simple way for us to help our kids experience the literal sweetness of Shabbat.
This is the third episode in our seven-part miniseries on Shabbat rituals. In our first episode we talked about transitioning into Shabbat through lighting candles. Last time we talked about witnessing the blessings of creation through Friday night kiddush. Today we’re going to focus on the next part of the Friday night set of practices: blessing the challah and eating a meal–that is, making Shabbat special through food. Shabbat cereal, grownup style.
In Jewish tradition, eating is actually a central part of how we observe Shabbat. For many folks, it might even be the central part. How so? First of all, Shabbat is a time for more expansive meals. If you have a dining room, it’s when you make sure to eat there and not at the kitchen table. It’s not a time for fast food or dinner on the fly, but for a real meal–with courses and using good dishes. It’s a meal when we’re not rushed, moving from one thing to another, but when we can actually sit and enjoy our food, company and conversation. In our busy, busy world, it’s downright counter-cultural, and it feels wonderful.
But there’s another dimension to it: Part of the essence of traditional Shabbat observance is that this lovely meal has to all be cooked before Shabbat begins. And, if you think about it for a minute, you can see that that requirement has a lot of ripple effects. If I can’t cook on Shabbat, then I have to get my cooking done on Thursday or Friday daytime. And if I have to do that, then I have to buy my groceries earlier too. Which means I also need to know how many people I’m preparing for, which means if I’m planning to have company I need to reach out to them even earlier in the week, etc. etc. The practice of not cooking—or ordering takeout—on Friday night means that Shabbat awareness starts to seep into the rest of the week too.
It also means that we have an opportunity to really be present in the act of eating and enjoying our meal on Shabbat. That, as much as anything, is the beauty of Shabbat practice, and one of the things that makes it so nourishing for our spirits.
Easier said than done, though. So I want to offer you a practice you can use to help bring a little more awareness, intention, and presence to this part of our Shabbat ritual. It consists of two parts.
The first part involves ritually washing your hands before eating challah. If this is already a part of your practice, this is a chance to do it with some renewed awareness. If it isn’t something you do, it’s a chance to try it.
To perform this ritual, you’ll need a cup you can fill with water.
The point of this handwashing is so much to get our hands physically clean–of course we want them to be physically clean, that goes without saying. But the ritual is more about preparing to eat while we’re spiritually clean.
So, fill up the cup. Already, you’re doing something unusual: Taking only the water you need. Pause and perhaps bring to mind here that the water in that cup is a gift, the basic building block of life. Allow yourself to be aware of all the people and systems that enabled it to travel from its source into your cup. Maybe notice a sensation of gratitude arising.
And now, take the cup in your right hand and pour a bit of the water into your left hand. Then do the reverse. Go back and forth three times. And as you do so, perhaps make an intention to let your hands, and the rest of your body, arrive in the purity of Shabbat. You’re washing away the workweek. You’re entering a sacred zone.
Before you dry your hands, hold them up slightly, notice them, appreciate them and all they’ve done this week. And then recite the blessing: Blessed are you, source of life, who has made us holy with your commandments and given us this opportunity to connect through washing our hands. Dry them, and mindfully make your way back to the dinner table.
The act of handwashing is deeply connected to the act of breaking bread, so the custom is not to talk after you’ve washed your hands until you take a bite of the challah.
So now, if your challah has been covered, uncover it and just gaze at it for a moment. Again, bring to mind all that has gone into creating this bread: the farmers who planted seeds, the water and sun and soil that enabled those seeds to grow, the people who harvested the grain and made it into flour, the bakers—who may be you!–that added yeast and salt and water, the systems that enable the oven to work. All of that creation. All of that effort. All of that blessing. Just pause for a moment to savor that and appreciate it. Again, notice gratitude that might be arising.
And now, take the challah in your hands and say the blessing: Blessed are you, Creator and source of life, who brings forth bread from the earth.
Take a piece, sprinkle a bit of salt on it—as though this bread is an offering being brought on a holy altar—and then, mindfully, take a bite. Allow yourself to eat slowly. Appreciate the taste, the texture, and all those blessings that enabled this food to reach your mouth in this moment. Allow yourself to feel nourished. And as you continue your meal, try to bring this mindful awareness to each dish, each bite. This meal is a blessing, and Shabbat is a time to savor it.
Shabbat shalom.