A while back, there was an article floating around Facebook describing Shabbat (specifically, Friday night) as a "clusterf**k." In it, the author described the hope, anticipation and preparation that goes into the Friday night meal only to - inevitably - have it result in "unmitigated disaster."
As I recall, the article drew a very positive response amongst my friends on social media, many of whom empathized with the author. In truth, even my wife and I felt that the description was spot-on. But, if you ask me, all of that madness is what makes Shabbat so...perfect!
First, let me give you a little background information...
My wife and I have been married for 10+ years, thank G-d. Together, we have 4 very energetic children (I blame her and she blames me). Aside from reading - which they can, literally, do for hours at a time (that one can DEFINITELY be blamed on the wife), our children are not the sit-quietly-and-play-with-a-toy type. Rather, they're the let's-see-who-can-run-more-laps-around-the-dining-room-table-before-getting-tired type - and we love them for it.
Much like the author of the aforementioned article, my wife and I entered each Shabbat with hopes and visions of a calm, quiet, peaceful meal. We imagined everyone seated nicely, enjoying their mazza (Sephardic term for appetizers) and sharing stories of their week. Naturally, none of this is ever what actually happened. Aside from the part about the mazza. But, let me paint a picture of what does transpire:
I come home from shul, usually with my two older boys (ages 5 and 8) in tow and we're greeted by my wife, daughter, youngest son and (sometimes) my mother. At this point, my three-year-old will tell me a story that I completely don't understand and I'll turn to my daughter for translation. Afterward, we announce to the children that it's time to set the table and each one assumes his/her role (depending on the week, some convincing may or may not take place).
Once the table is set and the grape juice is poured, I begin to sing Shalom Aleichem and Aishet Chayil (this past week, we initiated the practice of my older children singing along, as well). Once I finish, I say sing the blessings and we drink - this is where the fun starts!
"Whisper it in my ear" are the words my five-year-old tells me when it's time to give him his individual blessing. In accordance with the decree of Yaakov, each of my children is blessed every week. How special is that?! After each one has his/her turn, they wash for bread, I say the blessing and the meal begins.
Granted, each week is different and some meals are more "peaceful" than others - but all of them include family bonding, silly stores and episodes and lots of singing. My daughter (age 9) likes it when I sing Disney songs. My eldest son prefers when I sing Shabbat songs with him that he learned in Yeshiva that week. Both of them love to dance like crazy while I sing solo.
Admittedly, Friday night in our house isn't always a smooth occurrence. Yes, the children (and us) are tired from a long week and outbursts may happen. But that's ok. Perhaps, for me, Shabbat stopped being a disaster and became perfect when I realized that.
To drive this point home, I'll share the following:
A few weeks ago, my daughter slept over by her cousin and my son slept by my mother. It was just my wife, two youngest sons (one of whom fell asleep while I was in shul) and me Friday night. Finally - it was calm, quiet and peaceful - and MISERABLE! How we both longed for the noise and commotion that we'd, previously, dreaded each week.
I realized that week that quiet is overrated. Rather, I prefer the liveliness and excitement. Moreover, I considered the unfortunate couples who are forced to have quiet meals each week because they are unable to conceive - and I realized how absolutely lucky we are to have the madness that we do.
For me, that's perfect!
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