I’ve been lighting Friday night candles now for about 55 years. Lost in the mists of time is the particular Friday night when I began giving myself permission after kindling the flames to pause with my hands covering my face, and before reciting the traditional Hebrew blessing, to conjure all those I wanted to encircle with love, with healing intentionality. Since that night, each week the parade of faces passes before me – family, many dear friends, students, those I know who are ill or mourning or suffering, the peoples in the world who are in crisis. I reach out, I hold them each and all, and then recite the blessing.
The following poem was written in 1990, shortly after I returned from a year living in Jerusalem during the first Intifada, when I regularly visited the West Bank to facilitate dialogue between Palestinians and Israelis, to engage in demonstrations against the occupation – in so many ways and places, to pray with my feet. My dearest friend, my mentor and companion in this work was Veronika Cohen, a fearless and indefatigable visionary for peace. Coming back to the States, I missed her terribly, I missed our shared efforts, our shared yearning and hopefulness. I would think of her especially when I lit Shabbos candles, and still do.
Tonight as many of us light candles, let me invite you to pause before you recite the blessing and conjure those you especially love, those to whom your heart is attached, those who are suffering now, those who are in need, those who for the moment you cannot touch, and send them your silent blessing. Remember to include yourself please, for blessing and for peace.
On the other side of the world
for Veronika
I closed my eyes
to light the candles,
and it was you I saw
on the other side of the world –
you were lighting candles too.
I could see the tracks of the comb
through your wet hair,
the part that shows
under your kerchief.
I saw the blouse you were wearing –
white with blue embroidery,
I saw how it stuck to your back,
not quite dry from the shower.
Your hands covered your face
but I could feel the concentration
with which you said your prayer.
I imagined that as you paused
to bless the candles
you included me as I included you.
I write these words tonight
to reach out to you,
as I reached out to you
when I lit the candles,
as I reach out to you now
in all my best prayers.
Merle Feld © A Spiritual Life: Exploring the Heart and Jewish Tradition (SUNY Press, revised 2007)
Good Shabbos!