Following the detailed instructions for building the tabernacle we find the command not to work on Shabbat. We are forbidden from performing creative labors. Just as we built the tabernacle so too do we build what Abraham Joshua Heschel calls a “palace in time.” We accomplish this by refraining from work. The rabbis in fact derive the list of forbidden Shabbat labors based on what was done to build the tabernacle.
It is a curious notion. We fashion a holy day by not doing. Sure, there is much that we are commanded to do on Shabbat: recite the kiddush, sing our prayers, read Torah, eat a grand meal to name a few, but the day’s spirit is created by saying no to a long list of labors. It is an exhaustive, and perhaps even tiresome, list of prohibitions.
Among these is the command: “You shall kindle no fire throughout your settlements on the sabbath day.” (Exodus 35) This is among the more confusing commandments. People will often say, “Driving my car is not work. Turning on my lights is not a labor. Heating up soup on my stove top takes little effort. These are silly prohibitions.” The tradition, however, never defined these actions as work but instead as lighting a fire.
This is why we light the Shabbat candles eighteen minutes before sunset. If we were to do otherwise we would be lighting a fire on the sabbath day. Tomorrow night, for example, the candles are to be lit at 5:27 pm (in Oyster Bay, Long Island).
And yet these are not the rules that govern my Jewish life. We will light the candles at the beginning of our Shabbat services around 7 pm. Better to wait until the congregation is sits together in the sanctuary. Better to gather the family, if even for a brief moment, before everyone goes off to their myriad of activities, and light the candles together. Perhaps this occurs at 6:25 pm. Perhaps in the long months of June this moment is at 5:15 pm (well before the prescribed candle lighting time of 8:11 pm). Better not to worry about exactitudes. Better to gather together.
Shabbat is about bringing us together.
Then again if we say yes to everything and say no to little if anything, can we really build a palace in time?
The rabbis being rabbis of course did not limit their interpretations to fires and flames. They also understood fire to mean anger. I welcome their wisdom.
I imagine a day without anger.
Sometimes we get angry with those we love. Our families can be frustrating, but—I hope—never angering. Too often we allow frustrations to grow into anger. Banish those as well on Shabbat. One day a week—at the very least—command such emotions: you are not welcome at our Shabbat table.
Fashion a sanctuary.
There is plenty to be angry with these days. The news provides us with a multitude of examples. Can we find one day without heaving the remote control at the TV (and the Jets are not even playing during these weeks!) or throwing the newspaper on the floor in disgust or screaming at another email from a friend who sees the world’s events through different eyes? Is this possible? Can we fashion a day without the incessant barrage of notifications and alerts? Can the week’s outrage, and disgust, be forbidden? Is a day of Shabbat menuchah—a day of rest—within our reach?
Can our anger be banished for at least one day?
It is within our hands.
“You shall kindle no fire on the sabbath day.”
No fires of anger shall be kindled on this day.
And then perhaps all days. And then, our tradition dreams, the world.