Shabbat - My Family Traditions
Dressing up before Shabbat
Every Friday morning, when I have to prepare the Shabbat meals, I start complaining : I’m not in the mood for cooking, I don’t know what to prepare anymore, why do I have to clean the dining room and put the silverware on (which I’ll have to wash by hand later on), I’d rather go shopping today (especially if there is a One-day sale at Macy’s, which they always put on Fridays and Saturdays by the way) etc.
And then the more I cook and clean, the happier I get, because I know that my family and I will enjoy a great time together, just like I did when I was a kid myself. My mom would pick me up from school every day, but on Fridays afternoons she brought me a special treat: a small chalah filled with chocolate that she would have prepared in the morning just for us and that I ate on my way back home. How good it tasted! Just remembering it fills me with nostalgia. Then we would arrive home, and the whole house would smell delicious, with the aroma of the Algerian couscous or the fava bean with cumin salad cooking filling the place.
Before Shabbat starts
My sisters and I would set the table for Shabbat , my Dad would come from work and would dress up in his best suit in a hurry to get ready for Shabbat. He would then walk to Shul, meeting his friends on the way. At home, when everything would be ready we girls would get changed and dress nicely. We would all settle in the Salon (living room), to relax for a while, waiting for the men to come back from the synagogue. As soon as the time for lighting the candles came close, my sisters and I would light the candles (my Mom said it would bring us luck to finding a good Jewish husband) and say the Bracha. After a while, the men would be back home, and we would all kiss and wish Shabbat Shalom..Then we would start passing around the delicious hors d’oeuvres that my Mom would have specially baked for this occasion, like olive or Frank puff pastries, or French toasts with chuchuka. We would just have a nice time together, talking and eating.
Prayers before the meal
Now it is time to sit down. The table is beautifully set, and everyone knows where to sit. We start singing Shalom Aleichem together, repeating each verse 3 times. My Dad recites for my Mom Echet Chaïl, a beautiful poem describing the perfect Jewish wife (her) and thanking her for having prepared the meal. It’s time for him to bless each child.
Now it is time for Kiddush. Only the men stand (in Algeria women were allowed to sit during the recitation of the Kiddush ; we still respect this tradition), and then my Dad drinks a sip of wine from the Kiddush cup, passing it around. Men drink before women and children, and then for each gender, we drink from the oldest to the youngest.
Now it is time for Netilat Ya daïm (the washing of hands) : everybody goes to wash his hands in the kitchen with the special cup I have prepared, and then one by one we would come to my Mom, reciting the blessing of Netilat ya daïm. After each child is done, my Mom kisses her on both cheeks (don’t forget, we’re French), wishing her again a Shabbat shalom, health and happiness (and marrying a nice Jewish boy/girl). Once everyone sits back , it is time for another song, Lémivtsa-al (it’s an arameen song that we always sang in our family on Friday nights) . Finally, it’s time for motzi . We don’t slice it and pass it around in a plate like Ashkénazi Jews do here, my Dad takes small pieces of the challah and throw it around towards everybody’s place.
It is finally time for Shabbat dinner.
Now it is time for Kiddush. Only the men stand (in Algeria women were allowed to sit during the recitation of the Kiddush ; we still respect this tradition), and then my Dad drinks a sip of wine from the Kiddush cup, passing it around. Men drink before women and children, and then for each gender, we drink from the oldest to the youngest.
Now it is time for Netilat Ya daïm (the washing of hands) : everybody goes to wash his hands in the kitchen with the special cup I have prepared, and then one by one we would come to my Mom, reciting the blessing of Netilat ya daïm. After each child is done, my Mom kisses her on both cheeks (don’t forget, we’re French), wishing her again a Shabbat shalom, health and happiness (and marrying a nice Jewish boy/girl). Once everyone sits back , it is time for another song, Lémivtsa-al (it’s an arameen song that we always sang in our family on Friday nights) . Finally, it’s time for motzi . We don’t slice it and pass it around in a plate like Ashkénazi Jews do here, my Dad takes small pieces of the challah and throw it around towards everybody’s place.
It is finally time for Shabbat dinner.
The Shabbat Meal
Like my Mom always said “I spent the whole day cooking, you would think the Shabbat dinner would last for hours”. How wrong ! It always amazes me to see how much time it takes to cook, and how fast they eat. And with all our modern tools (frozen food, microwaves, efficient stoves, grocery stores) this is nothing. Think how long it took our grand-mothers and great-grand mothers to cook all this…
In Lyon when I was growing up, there would be at least 3 or 4 appetizers ready on our Friday dinner table. Usually Chuchuka or Fava bean with cumin salad were one of them, because everyone loved them. Everyone would pass the dishes around real fast, and my Mom would get ready to serve the entrée. Sometimes she would have cooked something very traditional from shabbat dinners in my family, like Couscous with beef and vegetables, or beef cubes with peas, and sometimes she would have been in the mood for some French traditional recipes, like a Beef Burgundy (beef cubes cooked with red wine) or Veau en croûte(veal roast in a pastry sheet). After everyone has marveled on how good it tastes, we would talk about our week, the paracha of the week, sometimes an international event that happened, sometimes a part of Jewish history... It was nice to just enjoy these evenings together, and loved every minute of them.
In Lyon when I was growing up, there would be at least 3 or 4 appetizers ready on our Friday dinner table. Usually Chuchuka or Fava bean with cumin salad were one of them, because everyone loved them. Everyone would pass the dishes around real fast, and my Mom would get ready to serve the entrée. Sometimes she would have cooked something very traditional from shabbat dinners in my family, like Couscous with beef and vegetables, or beef cubes with peas, and sometimes she would have been in the mood for some French traditional recipes, like a Beef Burgundy (beef cubes cooked with red wine) or Veau en croûte(veal roast in a pastry sheet). After everyone has marveled on how good it tastes, we would talk about our week, the paracha of the week, sometimes an international event that happened, sometimes a part of Jewish history... It was nice to just enjoy these evenings together, and loved every minute of them.
A Shabbat table for the children, Lyon, France
Today, as an adult and a mother, I’ve realized how keeping those family traditions are important. We’ve been living in Northern America for more than 12 years, far away from our families. Repeating the very same prayers and recreating the same Friday nights dinners that we used to know as kids are a way for us, not only to feel closer to them, but most importantly to know where we stand in space and time, who we are and where we are coming from. So yes, cooking and cleaning every Friday is trying. But seeing my kids treasuring these moments and being secure and proud of who they are makes it all worthwhile
