It’s been a week since I hosted my first Shabbat in Moscow, and it’s been a crazy week getting ready for JFNA’s Campaign Chairs and Directors Mission to Moscow, so it this Shabbat is the first time I’ve been able to sit down and write about it.
I’ve had an off and on relationship with Shabbat my whole life. One of my earliest memories is being Shabbat Ema at the Bernard Horwich JCC in West Rogers Park, Chicago. I think that my mom came the week it was my week, when I got to light the fake candles and recite the motzi. Growing up, I don’t think I celebrated Shabbat every week, but definitely remember as sense of calm, a sense of family on the weeks we did gather around a Shabbat table. As a camp counselor, I loved our kabbalat Shabbat gathering.
Unfortunately, though my undergrad had a significant Jewish population, we did not have a strong organized Jewish life (that’s changed today) and my options on campus were limited to what I saw as a Chabad experience that wasn’t relevant to me. At some point, I found a reform congregation off campus that a friend and I would go to some Friday evenings, but it didn’t feel like home. In law school, I found a place at Hillel, but I was a sporadic attender.
And then the real world. Practicing law in Chicago meant Friday night happy hours at the firm or drinks after work, not Shabbat. Some of my friends and I discussed having a Shabbat dinner, but with our insane hours and secular life, we never seemed to make it happen.
When I moved to Moscow all of that changed. Working for a Jewish organization, Shabbat was back. The first Friday I was here, I was back at a JCC, watching their nursery school students pick an Ema and Abba for Shabbat. I met my first friends through a Chabad Shabbat experience that was warm and welcoming. Every Friday afternoon, our office gathers for a kabbalat shabbat service. Suddenly, Shabbat was a welcome close to the week.
But, last week I made Shabbat in Moscow my own and made my apartment my home, by hosting my own Shabbat meal.
My Shabbat Guests
There were some special guests in Moscow last Friday who wanted to celebrate shabbat with the Jewish community here — and wanted to see some of what JDC was doing. Because it’s the summer and Hillel didn’t have shabbat activities, the obvious solution was to have shabbat at someone’s house. But where?
My apartment in Moscow is lovely, but not made for entertainment the way my apartment in Chicago is. I don’t have service for 16 (or even 4 really), and I don’t keep a kosher kitchen. My kitchen’s not what you would call roomy. But with a little creativity and some help from my wonderful colleagues, I was able to make it happen.
Furniture got moved in and out, food was delivered.
Local young leaders agreed to come.
The table was set.
I nervously began to wait.
Would my Russian guests (friends?) show? Would the guests of honor arrive? How would an American Congressman and his wife react to a group of young Russians? Would we have anything to talk about? Could I create a shabbat experience in my transplanted home?
Some of the guests had never experienced Shabbat in a home before — for them Shabbat was a communal experience. After my house, would they ever want to again?
I didn’t really need to worry.
We lit candles together.
The Congressman led kiddush.
His wife taught the camp version of motzi, which the Russians had never heard before. (Hamotzi . . . . we give thanks to G-d for bread, our voices rise in song together . . .)
Shabbat could be joyful and not so serious.
This was enough to get the conversation was flowing. Here we were — Jews originally from Pennsylvania, Ohio, Chicago, Khazakstan, Moscow, Kursk, Novisibersk, other parts of Russia, all gathered in my little living room, and we were doing what Jews have done for centuries — celebrating together.
We didn’t need any trigger questions, we didn’t need any programming, we just shared.
We discussed the difference between Jewish identity in Russia and in the United States — if Americans don’t have any “documents” how do they “know” that they are Jewish? Why do Russians need documents to prove that they are Jewish?
Who had been to Israel? Who had been to Jewish camp?
Most of us. Common experiences across the world.
American politics. Russian politics.
Mentoring. How do you fundraise in America? will it work in Russia.
The hours flew by and it was after midnight and still the conversation continued as we headed down the stairs.
Emails were exchanged. Connections were made. Shabbat happened.
After walking my guests home (and to Red Square) I returned to my apartment exhausted, but feeling reenergized.
And I received this SMS from one of my guests:
“For many years, it was the first Shabbat dinner when I felt something like the real friendship atmosphere with no official speeches and other formal things, which do not come from the soul.”
My parents’ daughter, I wiped a few tears from my eyes, and thought, this is why I am here.
Shabbat Shalom!
P.S. A special shout-out to Heather and Michael for making this Shabbat so amazing. Loved joining you in your home. Here’s to may more shared Shabbats in Moscow.
