My Shabbat Era
When I moved here from Los Angeles in 2012, I didn’t know a single person with a two-year-old. Eager to find community, I scoured the internet for parent-child activities and came across a free Shabbat playgroup at the JCC—the very same JCC where I had been a counselor 16 years earlier.
Not much had changed. The tile floors, speckled with red, blue, and yellow, were just as I remembered. The old stone from the sunken, 1970s-era fireplace had been drywalled and leveled, but a portion of it still rose above the surface, preserved as a decorative reminder of what once was. With my two-year-old in tow, I walked down the familiar hallway, through the preschool doors, and into the parenting center.
The room was full—mostly moms gathered in small clusters, chatting easily with one another. The teacher welcomed us to Shabbat with songs and prayers, and ended with the child-favorite ritual of challah and juice.
For the next few months, every Friday at 10 a.m., I packed the diaper bag and headed to the J, giving my son his first introduction to Shabbat. One morning, the teacher announced she would be leaving and asked if anyone knew someone who might be interested in leading the parenting center. After two years at home, I was eager to return to my work. I raised my hand.
Thirteen years later, I have had the privilege of welcoming hundreds of children to their very first Shabbat. I have watched their eyes widen as I light the candles, heard their squeals of delight as I lift the cover and say, “Voila—challah!”
And now, as I set down my bim-bom hands, I am filled with gratitude for the extraordinary gift of introducing this ancient ritual to so many families—over 676 Shabbats. My hope is that they carry pieces of this experience home with them: that they “shake out all the yucky things from the week” before lighting candles, or smile as they echo “voila challah” at their own tables.
What began as a search for something to do with my toddler became something far greater: a doorway into community, into tradition, into belonging. And long after the songs fade and the crumbs are cleared, I know that what we built together will continue—around kitchen tables, in living rooms, in the quiet glow of Shabbat candles—passed from parent to child, week after week, long into the future.
