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Phil sighed loudly, pacing across the living room for the billionth time that afternoon.
“Phil, maybe you should take a walk?” Dan offered, attempting to be helpful. (Though he was also somewhat annoyed by his husband’s lengthy brooding these past few days. Phil being out of the house might also give him some more room to breathe).
Quarantine was pretty easy for Dan. He was an introvert, and he already was used to spending lots of time at home. Although Phil was also introverted, and also worked from home, he was used to frequent walks and outdoor meetings. Staying inside was hard for him. With another sigh, Phil nodded and stepped out of their back door. “Yeah. I’ll see you later,” he called.
“Bye, love,” Dan called back.
Today was Friday, and that meant that shabbos was coming soon. Dan figured this would be a good time to prepare their food.
He headed into the kitchen and began grating potatoes. He’d make a kugel: that was Phil’s favorite. He wanted to make this shabbos special. He knew that’s what Phil needed. Over the years that they had lived in London, they had cultivated a vibrant Jewish community. Dan knew it would be especially hard for Phil to be away from that.
Typically, Phil would go to shul on Friday night, and Dan would stay home: he’d set up the shabbos table with two beautiful challahs and their antique kiddish cup, or just collapse on the sofa and rest until Phil returned to him. On Saturday morning, Phil would go to shul again, and Dan would stay home. He didn’t have the same need for shul that Phil did. In fact, on some days, Dan almost felt opposed to it. While Phil was able to separate certain parts of his identity: to daven in a shul without being explicitly out to the rav, and to still come home firm in his sexuality, Dan wasn’t quite the same. Sometimes, when Dan went to shul, he would come home feeling worn out and dejected. He hated having to hide. He hated treating Phil like his roommate and listening to the occasional homophobic comment dropped into a shiur. So, although he wasn’t fully at peace with it, he hadn’t stepped foot in the shul in the last few months.
Besides, Dan had all he needed in a community without shul. Most shabbos afternoons, Dan and Phil hosted a small circle of friends for a round of board games. They were proud of this community that cultivated, precious as it was to find gay and gay-affirming friends in London’s Orthodox Jewish scene.
Of course, given the quarantine, the group would not be meeting this shabbos. But honestly, Dan was not too troubled. He had Phil, and that was all he needed. He loved Phil’s unique texture of yiddishkeit. He loved how solid he was in his commitment to mitzvot and his love for Hashem. He loved how he did all of that while always remaining proudly and unapologetically gay. Dan had found a home, a safe place, in him. It almost was as if Phil was his shul, his spiritual home in which he found healing and love.
Dan finished the potatoes and began grating the onions. A tear formed in his eye, stinging from the onion’s pungent fumes. Serves him right, Dan thought— getting so shmaltzy on a random afternoon. Chuckling to himself, he continued with the onions, mixed the ingredients together, and placed the kugel in the oven.
…
That night, Dan and Phil sat on the sofa, pleased to be cozied up together in their warm home. The smell of kugel and matzo ball soup emanated from the hot plate sat in the kitchen.
Lo tevoshi ve'lo tikalmi. Mah tishtochachi umah tehemi? Bach yechesu ani'ei ami, venivnetah ir al tilah.
Why are you downcast? Why do you mourn? In you the needy of My people find shelter, and the city shall be rebuilt on its hill.
Their voices joined together in kabbalas shabbos, welcoming in this special evening.
Vehayu lim'shisah shosaich, verachaku kol miv’laich, yasis alaich Elokaich, kimesos chasson al -*
Those who despoiled you shall be despoiled and all those who devoured you shall be far away.Your G-d will rejoice over you as a groom rejoices over his - *
“Chasson!!” shouted Phil, interrupting the prayer’s traditional lyric. Dan giggled, and they rose to greet the shabbos queen at the door of their sweet little home.
“Good shabbos, baby,” Dan sighed softly as they finished singing.
Phil’s eyes crinkled. “Good shabbos, hun.”