http://www.jewishworldreview.com --
WITH THE YEAR 2000 around the corner, the pressure is mounting to commit to
a plan of action for New Year's Eve.
The options among my friends include rock concerts, catered dinners, cruises
and a few facetious comments about seeking shelter in the wilderness, at
least until the millennial computer problems are isolated and solved.
All agree that the best way to celebrate would be anywhere with a boyfriend
or girlfriend.
The big surprise, however, occurs when I inform my friends I am leaning
toward not going out at all.
"It's Shabbat,'' I tell them.
At first, they think I'm joking. When they realize I'm serious, the
challenges mount, even though -- or perhaps especially because -- I regularly
celebrate Shabbat with them.
"You can't tell me that if you had a girlfriend sitting next to you right
now who wanted to go out, you wouldn't go,'' says one friend, igniting a good
deal of laughter.
"If she wanted me to go out, she wouldn't be my girlfriend,'' I respond,
explaining that anyone I date would also understand my reluctance to
participate in a "so-called'' millennial event that falls on Shabbat.
He then directs me to the Chasidic enclave of Borough Park to meet my next
girlfriend.
Another friend points out that I have broken our particular version of
Sabbath observance on a number of occasions this year to attend special
events, like a friend's wedding or musical performance. Of all nights to set
aside the Sabbath and embrace a secular activity, Dec. 31, 1999, is the
night, he says.
Which is precisely the opposite of my viewpoint.
Call it my own personal Y2K problem. I am not shomer Shabbat, but somehow,
the coincidence of the greatest secular party of my lifetime falling on a
Friday night raises a serious philosophical dilemma for me.
Raised on a Reform movement diet of informed choice, I still walk an unclear
line on how to balance my Sabbath observance with aspects of modernity ---
like the later starting times of services, the use of electricity or the
need to drive somewhere to be with community.
If I were an Orthodox Jew, it wouldn't even be a dilemma. Maybe I would want
to go out, but I would not. If I were totally secular, the issue wouldn't
even exist.
Yet, here I sit, trying to balance two world views on how we confront the
uncertainty of time and take control of it.
CONTEMPLATING THE CALENDAR
What are these numbers and what do they mean to me as a Jew? Very
little.
One might argue that the Sabbath and the seven-day week also have uncertain
origins (other than the biblical creation story). While Rosh Chodesh and the
festivals are tied to our lives by natural events ‹ the moon and the seasons
--- the seven-day week seems to be merely a construct, like the numerical
year.
Yet, important Jewish values are imbued within the seven-day week. Six days
of toil, one day of reflection. Six days among the temporal, one day in tune
with the eternal. Here, commitment is needed, but when it is given, the
process of Shabbat becomes a method for conquering time far greater than the
numerical year. The certainty of Shabbat ritual, with its strict regimen of
liturgy and biblical passages, becomes a contrast to the uncertainty we
experience the rest of the week.
I am not alone in my dilemma. Many synagogues across the country are holding
dinners on New Year's Eve to give their congregants an alternative to going
out. In Israel, the rabbis who control kosher certification have again
clashed with hotel owners out of concern that New Year's parties will
attract more than just Christian pilgrims.
STICK IN THE MUD?
"So, what do you plan to do?'' my friends ask me.
"I plan to go to services, have dinner and sing songs,'' I tell them.
"You won't even have champagne?'' they ask.
I pause and think.
"Champagne is alright. I won't pretend it's not happening.''
"What about music?'' they continue, trying to see where my boundaries lay.
"It doesn't seem shabbasdik,'' I say.
A few of them raise their eyebrows at me, knowing full well we have all
celebrated many Sabbaths together while a David Broza tape played in the
background.
"What about going to services, having dinner, doing the singing thing and
then going out?'' one finally asks.
I shrug and run my hands through my hair, indicating that this inquisition
is over.
Time, however, is ticking, and I don't have long to
Jewish World Review Dec. 29, 1999 / 20 Teves, 5760
This year's
December dilemma
By Brian Mono
I am not unmoved by the significance of the shift from 1999 to 2000. After
all, like most of us, I track my life by the secular calendar far more than
I follow the Hebrew one. I use it to mark birthdays, balance my checkbook,
calculate investments, schedule appointments and recall many of the happiest
and saddest moments of my life.
Yet, some of you may rightly suggest that I am simply being a stick in the
mud. I will even admit that the more people push me to go out, the greater
my desire to "stick it'' to the secular year.
Brian Mono is a staff reporter with the Jewish Exponent in Philadelphia. Contact the author by clicking here.