We were what I would call a tight-knit family when I was growing up. Unlike today where there are myriad mixed marriages which in my opinion can leave children confused from a religious perspective, there was no confusion from a religious standpoint in my home.

As I mentioned in my last blog my entire lineage on both sides of my family was Jewish. I couldn’t have said this back then because I didn’t know any better but now I could say that we were the “Consumate Jewish Family.” We practiced all the Jewish holidays. We (us boys) all went to Sunday school. We by no means were perfect, but it was obvious that being Jewish was important in my family.

My dad was president of one of the big Jewish groups in town (I can’t remember the name of it). On top of all that I had total buy-in. I didn’t question anything back then. It was, what it was.

Shabbos Dinners

My first memories of being Jewish and practicing Judaism were the Friday night Shabbos dinners we had at home. Back in the old school days of the 60’s and 70’s whenever we had dinner it was always together at the dinner table in the kitchen.

My mom didn’t work outside the home so it was her job to make sure dinner was prepared and ready to eat usually at 6:00 PM every night. Monday through Thursday meals were mundane in comparison to the Shabbot Friday night dinners.

The Shabbat Friday night dinner was special. My mom put more effort into the meal and the Shabbot ceremony was unique. For the most part, the ceremony was short and sweet. One of the differences between the Friday night Shabbat dinner and the others during the week is we had different dishes and plates that the food was served on.

We also had these cool little Jewish wine cups that looked like they were made back in the ancient times of the Jews. They were these tiny little cups that were made of what looked like a thin metal and had Hebrew writing on them. The Shabbos ceremony that we did had two blessings. The first one is called the Kiddush.

The Kiddush blessing sanctifies the wine and signifies the separation between the ordinary and the sacred. I suppose when I was young, they didn’t put wine in my cup. I’m sure it was grape juice. But I did get a taste of wine at a pretty early age on the Friday night dinners. A couple of sips of the Mogan David at that age and I could feel a little buzz. LOL

When we were all seated at the table my dad (sometimes my mom) would hold up his glass of wine which would signify that we were also to hold up our glass of wine. He would say, “Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, Borei p’ri ha-gafen.”

That’s Hebrew for, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, Who creates the fruit of the vine.” Then it was time for the second blessing which is called HaMotzi. On the table, there was a plate that had a small loaf of bread. The loaf was covered in this special white embroidered cloth (I’m sure it was specially made for this ceremony).

Now this wasn’t your typical “Wonder bread” either. It was a special Jewish bread called Challah. If you’ve never had Challah, you need to check it out. My dad would pull back the white embroidered dolly and tear off a chunk of the Challah. While holding it up in his right hand he said, “Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, Hamotzi lechem min ha-aretz.”

That meant, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, Who brings forth bread from the earth.” He then tore a small piece of the bread and passed it to one of us. We tore off a small piece and passed it on until the last person got the last piece.  

And that was it. Two little prayers. One for the wine and one for the bread and it was time to chow down.

Conclusion

Friday night Shabbat dinners were mandatory in our house. I would imagine over the years growing up based on extenuating circumstances we missed one from time to time, but they were like clockwork. When Friday rolled around we all knew the drill. As Jim Nantz says to describe the Master’s Golf tournament, “It was a tradition unlike any other.”