Most of our prayers are found in a fixed liturgy, a collection of psalms, quotes, poems, and meditations forged in the crucible of our history and our evolving relationship with G-d. But there is an important place for individual expression where we enhance our fixed liturgy with our personal reflections.
Nowhere is this clearer than in the meditations composed by Jewish women before the lighting of Shabbat candles. Here is an example:
Near You, G-d, there is no night,
And candles are not needed beside You,
For You light up the whole world with Your light.
And the morning speaks of Your mercy,
And the night speaks of Your truth,
And all creatures acknowledge Your wonder.
G-d, You help us every day.
Beyle Hurvits, from This Tkhine Is Said before Kedushe
There are two things to say about this poem. First, it is beautiful, charming, and comforting. Imagine the confidence such a prayer instills in the heart of a child. G-d is an obvious presence, filling the world with mercy and truth, constantly there to help us with our lives. Second, it is naïve and contrary to our experience. Most of us have trouble experiencing G-d helping us every day. And it is doubtful in the extreme that all creatures acknowledge G-d’s wonder. For all too many, the morning is the beginning of misery and nightfall is a time of terror, not truth.
What shall we make of this contradiction? Perhaps the best way to understand it is to Google the Sabbath Song from Fiddler on the Roof. We know well all the characters from Anatevka, among them the beggar, the rabbi, the butcher, the matchmaker, and, of course, the fiddler. We see the rough and tumble of normal life, droll or prosaic, filled with conflicts and tensions large and small (not least, the ever present possibility of pogrom and exile).
But in the middle of all this chaos, there is a moment, shared by everyone in the village, a moment of peace and harmony. It is symbolized by women gesturing over shabbos candles, bringing in the light to themselves, and thereby to the world. When they close their eyes to say the blessing, and to say their personal meditation like the one above, it is a time of transformation and transcendence. Yes, we know the real world is filled with all kinds of tzuris, slight or significant. But hidden within is a world where all acknowledge G-d’s presence, and the world is filled with mercy and truth as a result.
When my wife Ruth-Ann, of blessed memory, would light candles, the room was filled with a special glow far beyond physical illumination. It was the glow of the divine Presence, waiting, so to speak, to find its way into our mundane world.
There is a tradition that the messiah will come when all of us observe the Sabbath. When candles are lit, and for a few fleeting moments the world stops, we have our first indication of what that will feel like.