THE MIRACLE OF SHABBAT

After 33 centuries,
all that’s needed has been done.

The table is set,
the feast of Mashiach is being served
with the Ancient Wine,
the Leviathan and the Wild Ox
—and we are sitting at it.

All that’s left
is for us
to open our eyes and see.

Sefer Ha-Sichot 5752, page 165.

 

Opening one's eyes and taking a look, looking around and perceiving the goodness that is everywhere, at every Temple Kiddush, at kosher foods served in homes where two candles are faithfully lighted on every Shabbat, two loaves of covered Challah awaiting breaking and to be passed out, to drink of the Ancient Wines, the red-purple grapes coloring the sugary sweetness, to take a sip and to toast. A room filled with sippers singing, glasses clinking, voices rhyming in song, legs limber to feel like dancing. A Friday night Shabbat sunset that comes in with a chameleon's mood changing from somber to joyous, as his skin changes colors, as the sunset in the sky changes colors in the skies from blue to purple, to be a woman dressed in purple, to be dressed in white clothes on Shabbat, to be dressed in purity like the Levite Priests, to find joy and peace in a white color that is clean and spotless, laundered in a strong bleach to take out any spots. White matching shoes, shoes that can dance in a ballet, taking a trip skipping to the place of peace on a Shabbat, a day at the end of each week, a day that is a Saturday, a day when we sit and sat on a SATurday and when we relax and rest.

 

The miracle of another Shabbat, a time to rejoice, to worship, to feel good, to love and to be loved.