Here’s a response to the previous Shabbos letters.

There have been a few letters lately about people sharing their personal Shabbos experiences. I humbly offer my own.

We are a simple Kollel family. We live near the Yeshiva in a small apartment packed with kids. Baruch Hashem we are not poor. Our children always have food in their bellies. The heating works. The bills get paid most of the time, somehow with quiet miracles. This is only the backdrop to our Friday night.

I come home from shul with my two boys and the moment I open the door I feel transported. The house is shining. The aroma drifting from the kitchen is the kind that wraps itself around your heart. The table is set with the Shabbos dishes we received at our chasuna. Some pieces are chipped and the silverware set is missing a few forks, but when you walk in you are met by something far more precious. You feel the warmth and the radiance of Shabbos. The candles fill the room with a soft glow.

Our furniture is all secondhand. Our dining room table is something we inherited from my grandparents. I am proud beyond words to sit at the same table that they sat at, sharing meals and stories and Shabbos zichronos. Our home is simple, sparking, clean, and glistening. On Shabbos it feels like it has been transformed into a place that is “mayain Olam Haba, where every corner hums with kedusha.

My kids jump off the couch and race over from reading and playing. I place a kiss on each precious head. Then I turn to my wife and wish her a warm good Shabbos. The kids settle down and gather around the table. Yes, they sometimes bicker about who sits where, but that is part of being a family.

We sing shalom aleichem and dishes chayil together. Everyone joins in, even my two-year-old. In our home each child receives a bracha. It is the most precious moment of my week. I try to think of the past week and offer each child a personal brocha, that the places they struggled should come together in the week ahead. After the bracha each child gets a kiss.
Then I make Kiddush over a simple bottle of sweet wine that tastes like kiddush is supposed to.

Under my challah cover are warm homemade challos. They are not sourdough. They are not artisan. They are simple challos made with love, the way challah was meant to be. Each child gets a generous slice. Then comes the gefilte fish with a chain and either mayonnaise or techina. We enjoy the fish and the children begin sharing the parsha. We always start with the youngest. The older kids listen and smile when their little siblings get something right.

When we sing zemiros, my two-year-old sits on my lap and sings along with everyone. Our zemiros are simple and sincere. I do not have a special voice, but I can carry a tune and my children love that I try.

I prepare a story before Shabbos and share it before we begin the soup. Then my wife brings out her golden chicken soup with lukshen and sometimes croutons.

After the soup, the younger children often wander off to play while the older ones say divrei Torah and we talk together about life and the parsha. There are moments in the middle of the meal when my wife and I exchange a quiet glance. It is a glance that says thank You Hashem for our family. Thank You for Shabbos. Thank You for giving us exactly the life we need.

The main course is chicken on the bone, potato kugel, and another kugel, sometimes apple, sometimes lokshen and also coleslaw. It tastes different on Shabbos. Better. Fuller. Sweeter. There is more singing.

I share something on the parsha in a child-friendly way. Dessert is simple. Ice cream. Homemade ices. Maybe a piece of cake.

Then we all bentch together. Loud and proud. The whole family together saying word for word.

Our meal is not long but it is real. And when it ends everyone feels special. Special about Shabbos. Special about being a Yid. Special about our home.

Some weeks feel our Shabbos feels more uplifting. Some weeks it feels a little more ordinary. But if you ask my children what their favorite time of the week is, they will answer without hesitation. Shabbos. And it is not because of the food or the treats. It is because of the togetherness.

This is our humble experience. My hope is that all those who have written about their Shabbos journeys will find the strength to quiet the noise, ignore the distractions, and focus on the greatest gifts Hashem has already placed in their hands.

And by the way, we would love to have you join us for a Shabbos meal.

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