Sabbath Manifesto

This evening I welcomed the sabbath bride while Lola and I walked up High Park avenue. The light was just so, the street smelled like recently awoken soil and trees budding, the moon was a bright hanging sickle.

We walked slowly, listening to the ambient noise of the neighbourhood winding down, and it came to my mind that the day of rest was beginning, and it was my job in that moment to welcome this turn of events and give thanks.

In Judaism we welcome the sabbath as if it were a bride, because that's how we view it, I guess: As a lovely, untouched (okay look this old testament okay?) span of time in which to repose, give thanks, think about stuff, and be with our friends and loved ones.

And I realized I was looking forward to doing all those things, as Lola and I wandered along, happy as clams.

So it's interesting that I stumbled upon this sabbath manifesto website tonight of all nights.

I don't really know how I feel about it. I do know I feel uncomfortable with group-expressions of faith. Circumstance, distance and time have made my faith less about community then it was in the past. Now it's more about quiet moments of reflection and to be honest, a lot of it is about staring at nature.

It's not lonely per se, and it's not that I don't believe in the same God I did when I was a more active participant in Jewish organized religion, I just feel awkward as a joiner now, happier and more satisfied speaking in my own voice, through my own actions.

Maybe because it has become so personal my faith has actually gotten a little churlish. I'd feel odd having to share it with someone else.

I am going to walk Lola again and think about this some more.

But for the record, tonight was a night for the sabbath bride.