It's evening.Friday night.
I have retired from the week and entered the hallowed atmosphere of Shabbat.
I've spent the evening praying in Shul in a beautiful congregation. The prayer is so sweet, as we sing together, and welcome the Shabbos queen.
Then we all wish each other Good Shabbos and return to our homes.
It's time.
The Shabbos candles are glowing softly, the family awaits.
We sing Shalom Aleichem together to welcome the Shabbat angels who have accompanied us back from Shul.
We follow with Eshet Chayil.
We make kiddush and sanctify the Shabbos day and declare it holy.
A day unto G-d.
We sit around the table to beautiful, body and soul warming food. We talk, we chat, we speak words of Torah. We talk about the important things in life, we get a chance to communicate once in the busy week.
Everything is still.
Peaceful.
Quiet.
No phones.
No emails.
No distractions.
Serenity.
We sing the Zmiros, the ancient tunes so beautifully composed, whose holy words shine in the night.
We say Birkat Hamazon - grace after meals, thanking G-d for His infinite beneficience upon us and His endless gifts.
It's time.
I open the front door.
It's cold out, dark.
I slip my coat on and my hat, wish my family Good Shabbos, and brave the elements as I walk the few streets to my destination.
I walk up the path.
The door is ajar.
I walk in.
Some others sit around a long table.
Anticipatory.
The Shabbos candles flicker gently on the table here too.
At the head of the table sits an elderly-ish Rabbi with a big fluffy white beard, piercing sharp blue eyes, a hint of playfulness on his face.
He's surrounded by books. Holy books.
He warmly wishes us Good Shabbos as we enter, and then buries his head back in those books.
The room is filling up.
The table is full.
Others sit on benches, some on armchairs.
Some sit in the adjoining room.
Everyone is waiting.
Silently, expectant.
It's time.
The Rabbi lifts his eyes from his books and starts to speak.
His voice is warm, his tone jovial.
He begins to discuss the Torah portion of the week.
He quotes certain verses.
He raises glaring problems and difficulties.
Then he expounds on the solutions and approaches of various commentators.
As he talks a picture begins to form in the mind.
It is one of a jewel - multifaceted.
As each interpretation is masterfully given over, another facet of the Jewel sparkles, until, finally, the facets sparkle all together like a multifaceted jewel being held in the light.
The begining of the verse is tied to the end and the end to the beginning.
Nuances of expression or seeming ambiguities or superfluities are all explained and made clear.
Stories are told.
Of great men.
Intellectual giants and spiritual masters.
Witticisms are generously interspersed and jokes are told in passing.
There is an atmosphere of divinity in the air.
Everyone is in another world.
G-d's world.
The world of holiness and pure wisdom.
Of spirit.
The intense, uplifting Shabbat atmosphere enters your soul, and you bond with that greater Oneness.
Before you know it it's over, and refreshments are brought.
Cakes and biscuits and apple pie, which the Rebbetzin [Rabbi's wife] has personally baked in the early hours.
We stay behind and chat with the Rabbi.
His eyes twinkle as he engages us in lively interchange.
Questions are answered masterfully, more stories are told and pearls of wisdom exchanged.
Finally, it's time.
We wish each other a Good Shabbos and part ways.
As I walk out the door into the cold, crisp air of the late Friday night, I know I am deeply privileged to be part of a world where every week we can partake of a small piece of heaven.
And as I leave the house behind, I leave my heart behind with me, wishing that I could stay forever in the house of G-d.
And in my heart I wish that every Jew could experience this too.
It's time.
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