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| Zawiyya AnNur Safed Erev Shabbat 2025 ©N.Davies |
The Single and Unmarried Jew is sometimes regarded with pity or even sadness by some Jews. Despite being halachically and liturgically marginal with regard to our generally perceived role in Kehal Yisrael, we are actually extremely numerous.
Solitary Jews are often people still searching for a life partner or elderly people whose families and friends have moved elsewhere. But then, there are also Jews who are Single and Unmarried by choice.
Though I was not
always celibate, I chose to follow the lead of the tiny minority
of respected Jewish Sages and Tzadikim who actually supported or practiced eremitic lifestyles: for I have been living as a
celibate Dedicated Jewish Contemplative—a Mitkarev—for over
twenty years now. In all that time I have
been utterly contented, grateful, and joyous living
this way.
But many Single
and Unmarried Jews do not choose to be
single or solitary.
For the predominant majority of Jewish Singles, the
notion of partnership and marriage is very much a hope, or a dream, and an active goal, and those striving to reach that goal receive every encouragement from the
majority of Jews; rightly so as marriage and the family
unit represents the usual mainstream
understanding of the commandment to be fruitful and
multiply. (It is, however not the only possible
interpretation: Many Sages have proposed that this commandment can
be fulfilled by becoming a teacher with many students.)
For others—whether their solitary status is caused by age, disability, genetics, biology, or personality—the search for the other half of one's orange (a Spanish idiom for one's beshert) is not a priority, and it may not be a realistic or feasable aim for them to reach at all. For those people the predominant "Jewish majority" system offers little encouragement psychologically.
And then, there are others who may have been forced to live far from
Jewish communities by employment or other practical and
sometimes purely geographical limitations. They may never receive
invitations to attend Shabbat meals or attend
family-orientated gatherings. In such situations Shabbat dining can be
a decidedly gloomy affair.
Some caring and
kindly communities organise food-packages and written Shabbat cards
which they distribute to congregants who live alone and are
unable to get out and about.
Many congregations have financial
assistance available for such people, assistance
that gives the beneficiaries comfort as well as financial security,
and in these activities the givers
receive their spiritual reward anonymously. These are highly laudable acts of Justice: acts of commanded Tzedaka that benefit both giver and receiver.
But sometimes these
Shabbat treats can leave the single or solitary recipient
feeling they have been singled out as "unfortunates", or as "sad and
somehow incomplete" people
who need comforting and supporting, simply because they are alone. Such an impression can sometimes
deepen the single person's feelings of
loneliness.
I have been present at festival meals
organised specifically and exclusively for large numbers
of single Jews without families. The aim of the
benefactors was surely a kind one, and for many of
those who prefer to see themselves as ''lonely souls'' I expect it
gave much comfort. But the overall feeling I sensed was that of
being waited upon by those more "fortunate".
Personally,
though my chosen eremitic lifestyle precludes making social dining a frequent
practice, I have felt much happier when invited to dine at small,mixed, and inclusive Shabbat or Festival
meals hosted privately by individuals—with or without a
family present — because there, I have always been made to feel part
of the mixed group invited. Sometimes
I have even felt that I had become a genuine "part of
the family". I have been blessed to experience such
a welcome both in Spain and here
in Israel by thoughtful Jews who did not see me as a "charity-case" simply because I am single and without
family.
Many Single and Unmarried Jews do not actually feel lonely at all. They have either accepted their status happily in equanimity; in a grateful stoicism that focuses on other aspects of their life and often on the needs of others.
In particular, those within that group who are also Solitaries-By-Choice are necessarily strong people who display an even firmer independence and sense of contentment.
But again such people are a minority.
In this brief commentary, I hope to dispel some of the gloom felt by those Jews who do not choose their life-styles and who do feel lonely, by reminding them that they too have been given the Sabbath to be a joy and a delight.
I hope to offer them some encouragement to adjust their perspective a little in order to see their solitary Sabbath observance in a more positive light.
The Sabbath was given to ALL
JEWS—and it should (and can) be a "delight"
for those who are single by choice and
also for those single or alone against their will.
With the perspective that
I presented in the following essay from 2007—even those who
did NOT choose their solitude can find a spiritual home by spending
Shabbat with their Divine Partner. Read on!
The Flaming Cherubim of Shabbat (2007)
"It does not fall to everyone of us to “welcome the stranger” to our Sabbath dining table. Nor do we always have human messengers/family/friends for company. But all of us, whether we are alone or in company, will welcome the Sabbath “herself”.
That moment of welcome is represented by the ceremony of lighting the two Sabbath candles.
In many homes the lighting of Shabbat Candles is followed by another ceremony: that of welcoming two mysterious "Sabbath angels" by singing the song “Shalom Aleichem”.
I am not at ease with that Talmudic story and never have been. The implied dualist theology doesn't make sense to me, but I have a simpler objection: Some people no doubt find the notion of spying angels to be a valuable spur to encourage timely accuracy and precise care in greeting the Sabbath with alacrity. Being predisposed to anxiety, the last thing I need on a Friday is the idea of an angelic competition going on at my heels or over my shoulder. My hope as I charge about with the mop and crash through the saucepan and plate barrier is that my Abrahamic haste to welcome the Sabbath as my guest will be appreciated in the heavenly court by the Judge Himself. If I don’t quite make the deadlines, then I rely on His mercy.
Having thus declared my position on the Sabbath Angels as they appear in the Talmud… I will now share the way in which I do make an angelic presence felt at my Sabbath table.
I cannot remember where I first read the idea that the two Sabbath candles are reminiscent of the two keruvim (angelic cherubim) of the Ark of the Covenant (Num. 7:89)…or of the idea that the Divine Presence somehow “rests between” their flames…. but for me, that is a concept which makes the Friday night meal of Shabbat glow with a special light .
In my own little 1994 prayer book I made a pictorial statement about this link in the illustrations I used for the song “Shalom Aleichem” (a 17th century kabbalistic hymn welcoming the angels) and for the candle blessing. The gate which marks the entrance to Shabbat is guarded by two angels, shown here with the outstretched wings of the keruvim of the Ark:
The connection between the angels/keruvim/candle-flames is echoed in the following pages which show the candle-blessing:
Rosh Hodesh Adar
