Kabbalat Shabbat – A Religious Experience of Love and Acceptance
by Chris Orrey (10 Minute Read)
During my year of Judaism I attended Kabbalat Shabbat services at Kehilla Synagogue on various Friday nights. Kehilla felt to me to be the little-synagogue-that-could. The services I enjoyed were often sparsely attended, but there was an undercurrent I felt when I entered the Kehilla space that told my soul I am on to something. On one particular Friday night, this was magnified into a religious experience that I will carry in my heart always. This one service, so full of love and acceptance, was the antidote to every negative religious experience I had prior or since. On that magical night, I experienced what is possible with religion.
As I walked into the right-side door of the double-door entrance and up the 5 or 6 stairs that lead to the second floor and the entrance to the [chapel], I felt a familiar stirring in me. It was a mix of nervous anticipation and hope, a familiar feeling each time I walked into a place of worship. I had almost cancelled being there, in lieu of taking my mom to look at a used birdcage. Mom and the Universe seemed to know, however, that I needed to be there. I looked down the hall ahead of me and saw a regular Kehilla congregant come out of the All Gender restroom. The reminder of Kehilla as a safe space felt reassuring.
I entered the sanctuary to my right. If it wasn’t for the large wooden cabinet on the bimah in the front of the room, Kehilla could look like any Christian church: wooden pews, stain-glassed windows, a high peaked roof. In fact, Kehilla inhabits a building that was once a Presbyterian Church. That feels right. Kehilla’s rabbis have ongoing interfaith events with local Christian pastors and Muslim imams. It’s one of the many things I loved about Kehilla.
As I entered, I saw people lighting Shabbat candles at the back of the chapel, and noticed three women setting up chairs, microphones and musical instruments at the front of the room. I recognized two of the women. Jenna Stover-Kemp sat in a folded chair, tuned her guitar and adjusted the microphone in front of her face. With short brown hair, a slim figure and black-rimmed glasses, Jenna reminded me of my favorite political news commentator, Rachel Maddow. I met Jenna a few months prior at a weekly Queer Torah class I attended at Kehilla. I was a bit surprised to see that Jenna was preparing to play sacred music for tonight’s services. During Queer Torah we explored Jewish sacred scripture from an LGBTQ perspective. Jenna co-led the teaching of the class with Rabbi Dev. As Rabbi Dev took the lead on issues of spirituality, Jenna, who was pursuing a doctorate at Cal Berkeley in the department of Jewish Studies, took the lead on scholarly issues such as biblical history and Hebrew interpretation. I would soon see that Jenna’s right brain was as fully developed as her left.
The woman who sat in the middle chair next to Jenna was Hazzan Shulamit Wise Fairman. While most reform synagogues refer to their spiritual song leaders as cantors, Kehilla’s cantor uses the throwback title hazzan. This fits her. From her long, graying, wavy hair to her contagious gap-toothed smile and soul-engaging voice, Hazzan Shulamit had an aura of mysticism.
A third woman, who Hazzan Shulamit introduced as Beth Dickinson, sat in the third chair, looking out over the attendees with a sweet, motherly smile. As Jenna began to softly finger the strings of her guitar, Hazzan Shulamit settled in with an African-style djembe drum between her knees. She looked first to Beth, then to Jenna, as if to silently say, “Let’s bring in the Sabbath, my sisters.”
Hazzan Shulamit began to sing, in a pitch that was clearly higher than her vocal range preferred. Hava. Hava nashira, shir’ hallelu…. She looked to Jenna, who broke out in an embarrassed smile and quickly faded out. Jenna moved her guitar’s capo, and then began playing the melody again in a lower chord. Hazzan Shulamit smiled broadly and began again, with enthusiasm. Hava. Hava nashira, shir’ halleluiah….
I picked the lyrics up with ease and soon joined the others, my own average voice sounding better than usual when accompanied by the three women and the rest of the congregation. Hazzan Shulamit ensured that we all had the harmony – translated as “Let us sing together, sing hallelujah” – when she began adding other words and vocalizations, making us the harmony to her more talented and experienced melody. I felt my neck and shoulders relax and my heart begin to open, simply from being a part of this chorus of 30 or so people, some friends to one another, some strangers, some new to Kehilla, and some wearing pre-printed name tags showing they are regular members of the Kehilla community. I felt glad to be there. Hazzan Shulamit led us to a quieter and quieter harmony of the words, until our whispers were barely discernible and eventually faded away.
“Shabbat Shalommm!” Hazzan Shulamit said, with a welcoming smile.
“Shabbat Shalom,” we replied.
“Yum, yum,” she said. “This truly is a yum, yum.”
I smiled at this tender description. These services were already beginning to feel to me like a delicious and soothing bowl of ice cream.
“Welcome back,” Hazzan Shulamit said as her eyes scanned the people in front of her. She landed on a few others and me as she added, “And for those new to Kehilla, and new to Kabbalat Shabbat, you are all very welcome.” Her smile felt angelic and was having the desired effect. I did feel welcome.
Hazzan Shulamit shared her own gladness to be back in the space of Kabbalat Shabbat – the Friday night services that welcome in the weekly day of rest that begins at sundown. Her smile didn’t fade as she exclaimed, “What a time we are living in!”
The rainbow flag and Black Lives Matter banner at the front of Kehilla made it clear to me that Hazzan Shulamit was speaking of the current political climate under the Trump presidency. “We made it thus far. It is not a small thing,” she encouraged.
Broadening the space of welcome, Hazzan Shulamit spoke directly to my heart. “Shabbat is a gracious hostess. Tonight I want to interpret that as meaning we can bring the fullness of our hearts, the emptiness of our hearts, the fullness of our oys, and our joys. All of you and all the parts of you are welcome here.”
I smiled at the reference to the Hebrew word “oy” which is translated as woes in English. Oys and joys. I loved the reference!
Jenna began a soothing background accompaniment as Hazzan Shulamit half spoke and half sung to us a poetic introduction to what we would experience on this Shabbat evening:
“Tonight we are going to have a little journey together,
into the dark night of Shabbat.
We get to practice
opening our minds and our hearts,
our spirits,
even just a little more than they might already be opened.
We get to avail ourselves of a portion of Shabbat peace.
Maybe a portion of Shabbat joy,
Maybe a portion of comfort.
This is, after all, Shabbat Nachamin, the Shabbat of Comfort.
On the heels of Tisha B’Av, the ninth day of the month of Av,
which happened this past Tuesday.
For some of us, it commemorated many tragedies
that have befallen the ancient Israelites
and the Jewish people
throughout history.
Where we practice
as a community, if you happen to be plugged in,
of being together,
in community,
to really be present with grief,
to be present with uncertainty,
and to make a space inside that openness and that presence,
for hope to be reborn,
for vision to be regained.
Even, for gladness to re-infuse our lives.
So, the great prophet Isaiah raised up,
‘Nachamu, nachamu ami.’
Comfort, comfort my people.
So on this Shabbat, it could be
that we need a little extra comfort,
to soothe us,
for how we experience directly
and also bear witness
to all sorts of troubles in the world.
So may it be for us an opening
And a time of increased comfort
And peace
And joy.”
Jenna continued her soft strumming as Hazzan Shulamit directed us to Psalm 95 in the Kabbalat Shabbat prayer and songbook, called a Siddur. The volume and pace of the song began slowly and softly, then gradually increased as the energy of the three women took me from a quiet place of reflection to a place of steady and repetitive Hebrew words and group clapping. As always, I felt most competent in my singing when the lyrics moved from Hebrew L’chu n’ran’nah l-Adonai… to “La la la la la la…..la la la ya ya ya….” With either, the English translation came through to me in feeling:
Singing to you
Erupting into shouting
At the place of the rock of our salvation…[1]
Jenna continued the background chords as Hazzan Shulamit directed us to our next song. “Continuing with Psalm 99 at the top of page 6. We take a step back – from our work, our analysis, our manipulation of the world around us – from our efforting. We take a step back – to give ourselves a chance to breathe. In, and out….”
Psalm 99 is just not possible to fully describe with words only. The music felt haunting, yet also comforting and inspiring. While I had no idea why, the English translation gave a hint of the depth of my feelings.
“Exalt the Eternal our Power, and worship at the mountain of holiness; for the Eternal our Power is holy.”[2]
The words alone on the written page appear to me to be the words of a pastor, forcing a religion onto me. Words that someone like Fred Phelps and his wackadoo congregation would put on a picket sign along with “God hates faggots.”
But I could feel the translation of these words into music. The lyrics in Hebrew spoke to me. They said, “There is a Power within us; a Power that connects us all; a Power that some call God.” On this Friday night, I felt it as pure Love.
As Hazzan Shulamit led Jenna and Beth and the gathering to the close of Psalm 99, I could see that she was feeling Love, as well. The entire congregation seemed to be. She then led us into a musical prayer for healing and release. She invited us to take a load off and reminded us that we were not sitting in front of a screen, we were not riding on a bus or sitting behind a steering wheel. We were having a renewing Shabbat experience. And we were doing it together. Song after song.
Baruch sheym k’vod mal’chuto l-olam va-ed…
L’cha dodi lik’rat kalah…
As we sang the songs in round, it became easier and easier to follow the English transliteration and sing the Hebrew words. An occasional glance at the English translation told me the meaning was accurately forming in my heart. As Beth added the tambourine to the ensemble and the tempo increased, I could feel the excitement grow in the lyrics that translated to, “Come, my friend, to greet the Bride, Let us receive Her, the Sabbath!”[3]
Joy seemed to envelop the people around me as we got up and danced, following the three singers from one set of lyrics to another. Glancing at the Hebrew, following the transliteration, and occasionally taking in the English, I realized that I didn’t need to understand each word to fully participate, yet something deeper happened when I recognized the first Hebrew word I had learned, just months prior:
שָׁלוֹם
Shalom. Peace. We could certainly use more of this in the world, and I was grateful to be experiencing it, welcoming in the Shabbat. I wasn’t Jewish and had no intentions of converting to Judaism, yet my experience of it on this balmy summer night was a gift – an example of how a religious experience can bring about a spiritual uplifting, even for those who are just visiting, as was I.
My feeling of being truly welcomed continued as Hazzan Shulamit led us through additional Psalms in the form of songs, leading up to the call to worship, in which we stood and faced the open side door leading to the world outside. According to the Siddur, Lev Friedman adapted Kehilla’s version of this call to worship from a Hindu chant; another example of the benefit of combining beauty and wisdom from two different religions to synergistically create something magnificent.
Bar’chu, Dear One,
Sh’china, Holy Name.
When I call on the light of my soul,
I come home.[4]
We sang it slowly, following Hazzan Shulamit’s lead, dropping off as she soloed with Hebrew not on the pages before us. Her voice was stunning. She led us through A Ma’ariv Song, showing us our role in the call-and-response format before going on to share brief prayers as the call, with our words in Hebrew as the response.
Ma’ariva a ma’ariv. Ma’ariva a ma’ariv.
You open up the gates of time…Ma’ariva a ma’ariv.
“You cycle forth the seasons… Ma’ariva a ma’ariv.
You give life reason… Ma’ariva a ma’ariv.
You shine the day and call the night… Ma’ariva a ma’ariv.
Ma’ariva a ma’ariv. Ma’ariva a ma’ariv…
Again we faded out, as if the words would remain an echo within us. Hazzan Shulamit talked about the courage it took to love, the courage that is required to be heard and the courage needed to take in the love that is our Divine inheritance. She talked of the love of pets, the love of family, and the love of our earth and sky. Leading us to the Love Prayer for the Evening Service, Hazzan Shulamit explained that Kehilla’s spiritual leadership had encouraged the use of a new melody for the standard Hebrew words. How fun it was to have the Hebrew for “Everlasting is the Divine love we receive. The path of Torah is the path of love…” sung to the melody of Jason Mraz’s hit song “I’m Yours.” My sweet Cynthia came quickly to mind and I found myself wishing she was there with me, experiencing the same uplifting joy.
“Love,” Hazzan Shulamit began. “All earnest, healthy, consensual, juicy love. Let us pray to the Oneness that unifies us all.”
She paused, then continued in a softer voice, “Sh’ma on page 13.”
During this prayer, I felt more a part of this Kehilla flock than at any other. I covered my eyes with my right hand, a Jewish tradition for reciting the Sh’ma. According to Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, the Sh’ma is the most famous prayer in Judaism.[5] About 5 years prior, I had dated a Jewish woman. Already fascinated by the religions of the world, I attended many religious events at her reform synagogue in Sacramento, California, including the bar mitzvahs of her two sons. Margaret taught me the first verse of the Sh’ma and I loved the part of the services when I could join the rest of the congregation in its singing. While it was initially awkward to cover my eyes as I offered what is more a statement of faith than a traditional prayer (“Hear O’Israel, God is All, All is One”), the years of intermittent practice lent me a comfort in shielding my eyes from the distractions that would prevent the prayer from forming at the deepest recesses of my soul. At the moments when I joined the synagogue in reciting the Sh’ma, from memory only and with my eyes closed, I felt that my voice had become “part of the eternal Jewish choir.”[6]
This time was no exception. The melody of the Sh’ma is in a range of notes that are at the strongest part of my vocal range, adding to my comfort and connection with the melodic prayer. My confident yet soft-spoken voice joined the others as we slowly sang the words of the prayer I had come to love.
Sh’ma…..
Yis’rael…..
Adonai…..
Elo-hey-nu…..
Adonai…..
eh-chad!
As is tradition, Hazzan Shulamit led the gathering right into the first paragraph of the Sh’ma, called the V’Ahavta. The English translation of this passage is “You shall love.” It was no surprise to me that Kehilla’s Kabbalat Shabbat included this passage, yet passed on the second and third paragraphs, “It shall be” and “The Lord spoke,” in lieu of a poem written by Jewish feminist Marcia Falk about loving life. Kehilla was my kind of synagogue: spiritual yet thoughtful, reverent yet independent.
Kehilla recited Falk’s prayer in popcorn-style, with attendees reading one or two lines when inspired to do so, and the entire congregation joining together for the final sentence: “Truth and kindness have embraced, peace and justice have kissed and are one.”[7]
Hazzan Shulamit then spoke of life’s joyful crossings, and asked for shares of our own sea crossings, relating them to the Israelites’ crossing of the Red Sea. An older woman shared that she and her partner were celebrating their 25-year relationship the next day. Kehilla used the American Sign Language adoption of waving hands as silent applause, and this announcement generated waving hands throughout the room, as well as some enthusiastic exclamations of “Mazel Tov!”
A middle-aged man then shared that he has crossed over, as a parent, to the stage when his children no longer need him like before. He added that his daughter’s boyfriend sweetly and nostalgically asked him for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Jenna shared that she has a new baby nephew for the first time in her life. Without the usual inner-dialogue required for me to become brave enough to speak in uncomfortable environments, I spontaneously raised my hand. Hazzan Shulamit rested her eyes on me and I shared, “My name is Chris, and since I was last at Kehilla, my girlfriend proposed to me. I’m engaged.”
I felt the genuine happiness of the people around me, with exclamations of “Yay!” and “Mazel Tov!”
Hazzan Shulamit gave me the sweetest gift of the day, re-visiting the earlier Jason Mraz tune and singing out loud to me and the others, “Love, love, love!”
A young woman’s contribution that she just moved to California from New York was met with many welcomes, and a woman I recognized as a regular at Kehilla shared that the earlier song about love transferred her grief for a Kehilla member who had passed two years ago into a great love and appreciation for her friendship and memory. A young man holding the hand of a woman his age then shared that they had recently proposed to one another. More hearty congratulations.
Many more shares echoed the notion that life is full of both oys and joys. Hazzan Shulamit reiterated this by acknowledging that some are still in the middle of their crossings, and encouraged us to pray for courage and patience if we are still on the shore. This prayer, too, came in the form of a song: Mi Chamocha, words uttered triumphantly by the Israelites as they crossed the Red Sea.[8]
We rose for the “Amidah,” the silent, standing prayer. Hazzan Shulamit, with Jenna’s accompaniment, asked us to consider whom we might invite into this “simcha” (gladness) of peace. She asked, “Who can we open our hearts to, our doors to, our pocketbooks to? Who is in need of peace and protection? Who is vulnerable? Who can we begin to welcome, into our lives, our congregation, our community? Who can we invite into this peace that we have created with our hearts and our love?”
With this invitation for introspection and charity, Hazzan Shulamit, Jenna and Beth led the congregation into the “Hashkiveynu Song.” Let us lie down in peace, and may we be sheltered by a sukkah of divine wholeness. The song again faded, this time into a space of quiet. Every person in the room engaged in their own private prayer. While I have often read the English version of the Amidah prayers in the siddur during this time, I felt a deeper connection to the space the services had created and stayed with my own thoughts and prayers. I thanked the Universe for my life’s greatest blessings, Cynthia, my son Zach, my grandson Jay, and prayed for a peace like our country has never known. I prayed that this presidency would bring about recognition that through division we only create more divide. I prayed for peace from a place deep within me. I prayed and prayed and prayed, until I felt the breadth of my prayers and small tears escaped from my closed eyelids. As I heard others sitting back into their seats, I came back to the present, grateful that my gratitude and hopes and dreams had been sent out to the Universe in such a sacred way. The final song of the service couldn’t have been more perfect. A subdued beginning of the song “Oseh Shalom” (“For Peace”) transitioned into a tambourine and djembe-accompanied prayer for all:
Oseh shalom bi-m’romav, hu ya-aseh shalom a-leynu, v-al kol Yis’ra-el, v’al kol yosh’vey ye-vel
May that which brings peace to the cosmos bring peace upon us, upon all Israelites, and upon all who dwell on the earth.
Ameyn, ameyn!!
[1] Kehilla Synagogue Friday Night Siddur https://kehillasynagogue.org/friday-night-siddurprayer-book-draft/ Page 3
[2] Kehilla Synagogue Friday Night Siddur https://kehillasynagogue.org/friday-night-siddurprayer-book-draft/ Page 6
[3] Kehilla Synagogue Friday Night Siddur https://kehillasynagogue.org/friday-night-siddurprayer-book-draft/ Page 7
[4] Kehilla Synagogue Friday Night Siddur https://kehillasynagogue.org/friday-night-siddurprayer-book-draft/ Page 10
[5] Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, “Jewish Literacy – The Most Important Things to Know About the Jewish Religion, Its People, and Its History” Page 633
[6] Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, “Jewish Literacy – The Most Important Things to Know About the Jewish Religion, Its People, and Its History” Page 668
[7] Excerpted from The Book of Blessings: New Jewish Prayers for Daily Life, the Sabbath, and the New Moon Festival, Harper, 1996, Used by Kehilla with permission of the author. www.marciafalk.com
[8] Dr. Ron Wolfson, “The Spirituality of Welcoming – How to Transform Your Congregation into a Sacred Community,” Page 109, Turner Publishing Company, ©2006
