Shabbat is a special time for me. It begins around 4:00 on a Friday afternoon, when I retreat to a Starbucks for an hour or two of study and Jewish writing. And then it’s off to temple for the Friday night service, and Shabbat dinner at home.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that it can be difficult to be Jewish at Christmas time. It has seeped into North American cultural consciousness so thoroughly that South Park even wrote a song about it, complete with trademark expletives.
My 6-year-old son recently staged a one-man play in our kitchen. It had a simple plot – a mom with her face buried in her phone, tapping away at the keys while a kid tries to get her attention. “Tap, tap, tap… Mom. Mom. Mom…. tap, tap, tap. Mom, Mom, Mom. Tap, tap, tap. MOM! MOM!