It was a week after my father died. I had gone back to New York for his funeral, and finally I was home, ready to go to Friday night services in my own community.

That first Shabbat service is hard for any mourner. You sit in a sea of familiar faces, but you still feel apart. The people around you are laughing, singing, filled with energy. And you sit there, trying your best to pray. And all the time, you’re wondering, “Don’t they know? Don’t they understand my pain?”

I sat through the service in a fog. And when Kaddish came, I opened the weekly flyer and looked for the names. It’s something I do instinctively, so that I can match the mourners with the faces, so I can look around and see who needs comfort. But this time it was different. There was only one name on the Shloshim list: my father.

I asked the rabbi if I could say a few words, and he invited me to lead Kaddish. When I finished leading Kaddish, there was the rabbi’s 14-year old son, standing behind me, ready to hug me. Suddenly, I was filled with a sense of peace.

On Friday nights, we say “Shabbat Shalom” to each other. We wish each other peace. But Netivot Shalom, one of the last Chassidic masters, taught that “Shabbat Shalom” is more than a greeting. It’s an acknowledgement of a fundamental change in the universe.

As Shabbat begins, he taught, the light of God’s presence falls upon us. God’s presence rests inside us, just as it did for our ancestors long ago. And as we’re bathed with God’s light, we find the quiet within us, and we forgive ourselves for our failings. We find silence, equanimity, and peace, and we become more available to help others.

That’s what happened to that 14-year old boy. He forgave himself. And in his sense of peace, he was there to hug me.

But Netivot Shalom goes even further. As God’s light rests upon us, he taught, we begin to feel quiet, peace, and happiness. A willing spirit surrounds us – a willingness to help others. And as we become more open, heaven changes with us, so that all is peace and all is love.

As rabbis, as lay leaders, we get to the time when the service is supposed to start. We look out at the congregation, and people are talking. The room is buzzing, and no one wants to start the service. It seems as if no one wants to do the spiritual work of prayer.

But perhaps, if we look a little closer, we will see a miracle. God’s light is resting on everyone. And God has given us peace.

Shabbat Shalom,
Art