Session 8: Kabbalat Shabbat (welcoming the Shabbat)
Coming Home from Ramallah
Friday night. Shabbat. The soft notes of Lecha Dodi, (the mystical song sung in synagogue welcoming Shabbat) lingered in the Jerusalem synagogue as Dan finished the concluding prayer. He exchanged a quick “Good Shabbos” with the rabbi and a few familiar faces, then headed for the door, it was time to go home and enjoy Shabbat dinner with his family.
But something made him pause. His eyes scanned the synagogue. Who else might need a place at a table tonight? Near the side wall, a young man sat alone. Dan did not recognize him.
He studied him quickly, jeans, backpack, dark skin, curly hair. Sephardic, maybe Moroccan.
Without thinking, Dan extended his hand.
“Good Shabbos. I’m Dan Eisenblatt. Would you like to eat at my house tonight?”
The boy’s worried face melted into a broad, toothy smile. “Yeah, thanks. My name’s Machi.” He slung his backpack over one shoulder, and they left together. Minutes later, they were at Dan’s table. When the family began Shalom Aleichem, Machi did not join in. Perhaps shy or unsure of the tune. Still, he tried and his eyes shone with effort and curiosity.
Even after the meal began, Machi remained quiet and fidgety. Dan steered the conversation gently, blending discussion of the weekly Torah portion with small talk about current events to make him comfortable without pressure. After the fish, Dan noticed Machi rifling through the songbook.
“Looking for something?” he asked. Machi’s face lit up. “Yes! The song that we sang at the synagogue tonight. Something dodi.”
Dan hesitated. Normally, Lecha Dodi is not sung at the table. But what harm could there be?
“Ah, Lecha Dodi. Wait, let me get a siddur.” They sang. Machi fell silent again, but content. After soup, Dan asked, “Which song now?”. “Lecha Dodi. Again.”
After the chicken, the same answer. Again, after dessert, “Lecha Dodi.” Dan smiled wryly but let it go. By the end of the evening, they had sung the song eight, maybe nine times. Dan lost count.
Finally, a quiet moment. Dan leaned in. “We haven’t had much time to talk. Where are you from?”
Machi’s eyes dropped. “Ramallah,” he whispered.
Dan froze. Ramallah, that large Arab city on the West Bank? Did he hear correctly?
“Do you mean Ramleh? I… I have a cousin there,” he said cautiously. “Ephraim Warner. Herzl Street. Do you know him?”
Machi shook his head. “There are no Jews in Ramallah.”
Dan’s heart raced. He had heard correctly.
“Who are you?” He asked somewhat nervously. “What’s your real name?” he asked, trying to steady his voice.
“Machmud Ibn-esh-Sharif, ” the boy blurted out.
“But.. Wait! I’m Jewish. I’m just trying to find where I belong.”
He told his story slowly.
“I was born in Ramallah. Raised to hate Jews, taught that killing them was heroism. But the Sunna says, ‘No one of you is a believer until he desires for his brother what he desires for himself.’ I wondered, why not Jews? Didn’t they deserve life too?”
“My father threw me out when I asked. With nothing but the clothes on my back, I planned to escape, live among Jews, learn the truth. I snuck back home to pack. My mother caught me. Pale, gentle, quiet, she listened. I told her my plan, maybe even to convert. She whispered, ‘You don’t have to convert. You already are a Jew.’”
Stunned, he asked, “What do you mean?”
“Judaism follows the mother. I am Jewish. Therefore, you are Jewish too. She gave me documents, birth certificate, old ID, to prove it. And one photo. ‘Take this,’ she said. ‘This is a photo of my grandparents, at the grave of one of their ancestors buried in Tzfat. This picture was taken there.’”
Dan reached out, touching Machmud’s shoulder. “Do you have it here?”
Machi’s eyes brightened. From his backpack, he pulled a tattered envelope. Dan carefully unfolded the photo. An old Sephardi family posed around a grave. He squinted. His heart nearly stopped. Tzfat. Rabbi Shlomo Alkabetz. The holy rabbi who wrote Lecha Dodi.
“Machmud, your ancestor wrote the song we’ve been singing all Shabbat. He lived in the 1500s and he was a colleague of the renowned kabbalist; the Arizal.”
Machmud’s mouth fell open. He was speechless.
Dan rose slowly, the weight of the moment settling over him. His hand trembled slightly as he reached out and said softly, “Welcome home, Machmud. Maybe it’s time you chose a new name.”
In this series
Truly a remarkable story!
Kabbalat Shabbat, literally welcoming in the shabbat, is a service unique to Friday night.
Kabbalat Shabbat is a series of paragraphs that primes us to welcome the Shabbat and prepares us to receive our neshama yetayra, our added layer of soul.
Prayers on Friday night begin at sundown after candle lighting. We begin Kabbalat Shabbat by reciting six chapters from Psalms, mirroring the six days of the week and then jump right into lecha dodi; a congregation-wide song.
Each of the six chapters of Tehillim (Psalms 95–100), recited before Lecha Dodi, corresponds to one of the six days of Creation, culminating in the seventh day of rest. Together, they express joy, gratitude, and awe before Hashem as the world transitions from the weekday to the holiness of Shabbat.
- Psalm 95 – Day One: A call to awaken the soul and praise the Creator who brought light into the world.
- Psalm 96 – Day Two: A universal invitation to recognize the Almighty’s kingship, as Heaven and Earth were divided.
- Psalm 97 – Day Three: Proclaims the Almighty’s justice and the triumph of light and goodness, as dry land and vegetation emerged.
- Psalm 98 – Day Four: Celebrates the Almighty’s revealed power and harmony, mirroring the creation of the sun, moon, and stars.
- Psalm 99 – Day Five: Declares the Almighty’s holiness and life-giving rule over all creation, as living creatures filled the earth and sea.
- Psalm 100 – Day Six: A joyful thanksgiving from humankind, the crown of creation, preparing to welcome Shabbat.
Lecha Dodi
Next we recite Lecha Dodi which was written in the mid-1500s in the city of Safed by the poet and mystic Rabbi Shlomo Halevi Alkabetz, whose name is spelled out as an acrostic in the opening letters of each stanza. It grew out of a remarkable moment in Jewish history, when the spiritual leaders of Safed created a new way to welcome Shabbat. Inspired by an ancient tradition of going out into the fields at sunset to greet the arrival of Shabbat as one would welcome an honored guest, they composed songs and rituals to capture that sense of anticipation and calm. Lecha Dodi became the most beloved of these poems. It spread from community to community until it eventually became the central song of the Friday evening service. By the 17th century it appeared in prayer books throughout the Jewish world.
Lecha dodi transforms the arrival of Shabbat into a vision of redemption, beginning with a call to welcome the Shabbat bride and ending with her majestic entrance. Through its stanzas, the poem mirrors Israel’s journey from exile and weariness toward light, renewal, and divine closeness. Just as Shabbat crowns the week with peace and holiness, so too it foreshadows the ultimate redemption when the world will fully recognize the Almighty’s presence.
- “Lecha Dodi likrat kallah”
A joyful call: “Come, my beloved, let us greet the Shabbat bride.” — The invitation to welcome Shabbat with love and anticipation. - “Shamor v’zachor b’dibur echad”
Reminds us that both aspects of Shabbat, the do’s and the dont’s, were given as one divine command, symbolizing the complete Shabbat experience. - “Likrat Shabbat lechu v’neilcha”
Calls the community to go forth together to greet Shabbat, as Shabbat is the source of the upcoming week’s blessing. - “Mikdash Melech, ir melucha”
Addresses Jerusalem, the royal city, urging her to rise from exile and await her redemption in glory. - “Hitna’ari me’afar kumi”
Calls upon the exiled nation to shake off the dust and rise, a poetic vision of Israel’s spiritual renewal. - “Hitoreri hitoreri”
Urges Zion to awaken from her slumber, for the light of redemption is near. - “Lo teivoshi v’lo tikalmi”
Promises that the Jewish people will no longer suffer shame; as the Almighty’s glory will shine upon them once again. - “Yamin u’smol tifrotzi”
Foresees Israel’s expansion and restoration with the coming of the messiah. - “Bo’i v’shalom ateret ba’alah”
The climax: the Shabbat Queen enters in peace and joy, crowned by her Beloved — symbolizing the union between Hashem and His people.
“Mizmor Shir Leyom HaShabbat”
Psalms Chapter 92
After welcoming Shabbat with the joy and anticipation of Lecha Dodi, this psalm guides us gently into the heart of the day itself. It carries us from greeting Shabbat to actually entering it, inviting us to slow down, and feel gratitude for the pause and perspective that Shabbat offers.
In this moment, anticipation turns into presence. We step across the threshold and into the calm of Shabbat, beginning the evening prayers with a quieter heart, a clearer mind and a renewed appreciation for the gift of rest.
Bameh Madlikin/K’gavna
Prior to reciting the Friday maariv service, there is one last component to kabbalat Shabbat. Interestingly, there is a difference in custom as to what this final component actually is.
- Communities that pray nussach ashkenaz as well as Sephardic congregations add a section from the mishna in Masechet (Tractate) Shabbat dealing with the laws of lighting Shabbat candles.
- Communities that pray nussach sephard add a selection from the Zohar (the book of the kabbalah) called K’gavna. It is a short kabbalistic paragraph that describes the spiritual unification that happens as Shabbat enters, when higher and lower worlds align and divine harmony is restored.
One Final Point
Boi Kallah Boi Kallah
One of the beautiful foundations of Shabbat is that each of us receives a “neshama yeteyra,” an added measure of soul, that arrives with the holiness of the day. This added spiritual energy changes everything. It lifts us into a different mode of living, one that feels gentler, deeper and more connected to spirituality than during the weekdays.
Because we carry a neshama yeteyra, our physical, emotional and spiritual capacities on Shabbat are expanded. We are able to feel more, experience more and be more present with ourselves and with Hashem.
The kabbalists teach that the first wave of the neshama yeteyra enters the moment we turn to the west and sing the words “Boi Kallah, Boi Kallah.” Many people take a quiet pause when they turn, using that brief moment to reflect and to sense the new soul settling within.
Try it this week. Take that small pause. You might just feel the shift.
Friday Night Maariv
The structure of Friday night maariv is very similar to the weekday maariv with a few changes. Here they are:
- Vishamru: Prior to shemoneh esrei, we add a single paragraph called vishamru. Vishamru, taken from Exodus 31:16–17, is recited to publicly affirm Shabbat as the eternal sign of the covenant between God and the Jewish people before formally standing in prayer.
- Shemoneh Esrei: The middle blessing of the Friday night Shemoneh Esrei focuses entirely on the holiness of Shabbat, describing God’s completion of creation, the gift of rest, and Shabbat as a sign of the covenant that brings peace and spiritual wholeness.
- Vayechulu: Immediately following the shemone esrei, Vayechulu is recited. Vayechulu declares that creation was completed, and The Almighty ceased from His work, sanctifying the seventh day. It affirms that Shabbos is both a testimony to Creation and a source of blessing and holiness for the world.
- Magen Avos is a one paragraph summary of the shemoneh esrei, condensing its key themes – praise, requests, and thanksgiving – into a single blessing that recalls God’s protection over the forefathers and asks for His continued safeguarding of the Jewish people.