It’s going to be a momentous day! It will be a day that calls to our deepest sense of responsibility! A day that sets us apart from the masses!
It will be a day that reminds us that we are the stewards of something greater than ourselves and defines who we, the people, truly are! A day upon which our hearts and souls rest!
True, we don’t all play by the rules, and sometimes we lose track of the true spirit of the thing. But ready or not, it marches ever closer, and it’ll be here in the first week of November.
And the second. And the third…
I speak, of course, of Shabbat, which awaits us at the end of every week. Wait — what did you think I was talking about?
Election Day, that celebration of democracy, supposedly wraps up a calamitous year of showmanship, vitriolic hyperbole and — good heavens — so much shouting! We’ll see. Many fear that, instead, the dawn of Nov. 6 will simply dial the volume up to 11.
I hope I’m wrong. The anxiety that we carry as Americans has reached a fever pitch and how could it not? Voices chant from our televisions that “democracy is at risk,” “freedoms are under attack” and only one person can “save our country.” We are assaulted with warnings of fascism or anarchy or World War III or nuclear winter or — worst of all — tax increases.
I do not mean to jest. The results of presidential elections are very real and their effects are felt for generations. The palpitations of our hearts and fraying of our nerves are completely legitimate. We are right to exercise our patriotic duty as the future of our country is shaped.
But as we tune in to that 24-hour news cycle in the days leading up to Nov. 5 and the days that follow, remember: Our children are listening. And our anxiety? It’s catching.
As American parents, we respond by controlling what we can control. We take them with us to the voting booth and spend Nov. 5 touting the beauty of democracy.
But as Jews? Even as we snap photos of our kids proudly wearing their “future voter” stickers, we remember that gam zeh ya’avor — this too shall pass. Proud Americans we certainly are, but we are also a people who measure our history in millennia. We treasure traditions over trends. We were here long before presidential elections, and we will be here long after them.
To help our children (and ourselves) manage the fear of the present moment, we should take down our Shabbat candlesticks from the shelves. We should shine them up in preparation for something more timeless than politics. Instead of scrolling or flipping on the news, let’s make challah or smash grapes in plastic bags to make our own kiddush wine.
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel once described Shabbat as a “palace in time,” which, when observed according to our laws and tradition, reminds us of who we are. We are a people immersed in gratitude — for a beautiful world, for a loving family, for rainbows, for warm bread, for America, for cuddly pets, for our health and the myriad blessings that fill our lives. And we have a day set aside to bask in the glory of all of it and say, “Thank you, G-d.”
I speak to you as someone who does not “play by the rules.” I drive on Shabbat, spend money, clean the house. But in the days that come, I hope to let Shabbat spill into the rest of my week, if not in action, then in spirit. I hope to play quiet board games, rake leaves and listen to music with my children. I hope to cook with them to prepare for that which is both timeless and timely: Shabbat.
Because we need it, and so do our children.
I’ll see you at the polls, friends, and then maybe we should all go outside and play.
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