My Shabbat Practice || Faith in Flux

When I began exploring Judaism, I wanted to approach it with the highest reverence and respect. To me, that meant doing things the "right way," which at the time felt synonymous with the traditional way. Observing Shabbat initially seemed daunting, but I was also excited to carve out time for myself. When I began this journey, I was juggling multiple jobs, navigating the COVID-19 pandemic, and finishing my undergraduate degree. A dedicated time each week to unplug felt not just meaningful but essential.

I started by learning the prayers for lighting Shabbat candles. I found a simple pair of candlesticks at a thrift store, ordered candles from Amazon, and invited friends over for Shabbat dinners. Once vaccines became available and I found the right synagogue, I added weekly Shabbat morning services to my routine. For a while, these practices grounded me.

But as the pandemic slowed and my life grew busier, my Shabbat practice began to change. Moving farther from my synagogue made attending morning services difficult, so I introduced a Torah study routine. On Saturday mornings, I’d read the portion along with a commentary and reflect on it. At that time, I didn’t know of Rabbi Strassfeld’s similar approach, but I found value in this solitary study. However, without a community for accountability, my routine began to slip. My friends who joined me for Shabbat dinners moved away, and the candle-lighting gradually stopped. Eventually, the Torah study fell out of my schedule altogether.

A New Routine

What replaced my Shabbat practice was a weekend routine reminiscent of my teenage years living with my grandfather. Before Alzheimer’s took away his ability to drive, my grandfather spent Saturday mornings going to breakfast (usually at Bojangles) and taking leisurely drives. Sometimes he’d head to the mountains, sometimes he’d explore the city’s abandoned downtown, and other times he’d simply drive with no destination in mind. I used to join him, and though my teenage self eventually grew bored of these trips, I found immense value in them as an adult.

At first, this routine was purely secular. I’d go to my favorite breakfast spot, read for a few hours, journal, and then head home. But as I felt the ache and pull toward Judaism again, I began infusing Jewishness into this practice. I restarted my Torah study, picked up books by Jewish authors, and dove into texts on Jewish philosophy and folktales. Saturdays became a time for independent study, a personal Shabbat practice that felt meaningful and grounding.

Of course, I’m human. There are weeks when I skip the portion or don’t read something Jewish. But I’ve learned to embrace flexibility in my practice. My intention remains to mark the day as sacred, a time for myself and the Divine. While I’ve shifted away from traditional observance, I still occasionally return to it—attending synagogue or engaging with Torah readings and commentaries. Now, with a stable job and a calmer life, I find less need for rigid distinctions between sacred and secular. My study and reflection aren’t confined to Shabbat but spread throughout my week.

Challenging Traditions

Early in my attendance at Kehillah, I once took out my phone during the schmoozing period after Kiddush to save a new friend’s contact information. A few congregants gave me subtle glances, and my friend explained that technology was frowned upon on synagogue property, especially on Shabbat. Feeling guilty, I quickly put my phone away and have since left my phone and smartwatch in the car whenever I attend shul. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think, How silly.

A similar thought struck me when I learned about the prohibition against writing on Shabbat. As someone who loves to write and take notes, this felt restrictive. No matter the purpose or meaning ascribed to these rules, they didn’t resonate with me. They didn’t fit into my world, and I’ve come to believe that I shouldn’t be beholden to practices that feel misaligned with my life and values.

Finding Balance

Ultimately, I’m content with my current Shabbat practice. While it may permeate my week—arguably the opposite of a traditional Shabbat—it feels authentic and fulfilling. I still value traditional observance and occasionally return to it, but I’ve embraced a flexible approach that works for me. My intention remains to honor the spirit of Shabbat, creating space for rest, reflection, and connection in ways that feel meaningful.

I’m grateful for the journey that has brought me to this balance. Shabbat, for me, is not about strict adherence but about creating sacred moments—whether through traditional practices, personal study, or simply carving out time for myself and my relationship with the Divine.