--for Heather on our
anniversary
It is a beautiful Friday morning. As I walk the dog, I pass
a short, thin man with a long, full beard who smiles at me and says, “Good
morning.” He is wearing all black, save for a plain white collar shirt under his
blazer. Atop his head: a large, broad-brimmed hat.
And there are two other splashes of white, swinging freely just
below the hem on the left and right sides of his blazer: tassels.
Almost every Friday now, I pass my friendly Jewish neighbor
on this stretch of sidewalk just one street over from our home. He and his
family are new to the neighborhood and I find myself looking forward to his
greeting every week.
He seems joyful to me. After I pass him, I wonder if he
feels especially joyful today because at sunset he will say Kiddush and begin
the Sabbath.
Even though it is still early, I find myself wishing him Shabbat
shalom. And as I turn that phrase over in my heart, I find myself thinking of
you.
When I am with you, I have a sense of shalom. And when I am
with you, I am at rest. I know I should reserve such a holy phrase for God, but
I suppose God will not begrudge me recognizing and naming his presence in you. So,
I think of you—of the Christ in you—and I say, “Shabbat shalom.”
Every year we pick a word and turn it over in the soil of
our hearts. Over the years, we have chosen words like…
…freedom
…joy
…hope.
This year I cannot choose only one word because one comes
with the other: Shabbat shalom. Like you-and-me or me-and-you.
Later today we will make our way out of town for a special
celebration: tomorrow is our anniversary. You will read this then.
But know that,
like our friendly Jewish neighbor,
I was smiling the morning before,
thinking of you,
preparing myself for you and only you—
anticipating prayer, lighting the candles—
one for the past, and one for the future
(Remember and Observe),
gratitude and hope.
Tonight,
the present:
a feast,
friendship
and rest.
Then,
waking Saturday morning
to Shabbat shalom
with you,
because of you.
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