From Parties to Prayer: Finding Myself in Shabbat

It was a regular Wednesday afternoon in August. The sun was blazing, the washing machine hummed as it spun, and I was folding laundry while turning over thoughts in my mind. How could I tell the story of my life change? Of going from wearing a revealing swimsuit to the beach on Shabbat, from Friday afternoon parties at the Tel Aviv Port where people danced and drank to forget their stress to synagogue, kiddush (the blessing over wine), prayer, and modest clothing. Where did this all begin?

It started during Operation Pillar of Defense, in November, almost three years ago. Winter was setting in, and the sound of sirens filled Tel Aviv. For eight days, fear gripped the city. Every siren made my heart race and tied my stomach in knots. We didn’t know if missiles would fall or not. It felt like life had suddenly turned into something unstable and frightening.

That Friday morning, I was scrolling through Facebook, reading through post after post. Angry politics, calls for revenge, loud support for the IDF. And then I came across a sentence, just seven words that hit me differently. It didn’t scream. It didn’t rage. It just whispered something that pierced my heart:

“Shabbat is the safest shelter for the soul.”

Those words stirred something deep in me. Words like faith, Judaism, and the Creator of the World were familiar to me, I knew of them but I hadn’t truly lived them. Suddenly, they didn’t feel like distant ideas. They felt real. That one sentence planted a seed in me. It flipped a switch.

The very next day was one of the first Shabbats I ever kept. I didn’t really understand it yet. I didn’t feel connected. I mostly slept the day away, unsure of what I was even trying to do. But then came the siren.

I panicked. I ran to my neighbors and knocked on their door in a total frenzy. And then just as suddenly, I remembered that sentence. I remembered the man who wrote it. His profile photo was really nice, and for some reason, his words echoed in my mind like a beam of light.

Later, I would actually meet him and thank him. Because we really should thank the good messengers Hashem sends our way.

So there I was, in the middle of my fear and racing heart, unable to call anyone because it was Shabbat. Logically, the situation seemed dangerous. But according to faith, Shabbat was protecting me. If Shabbat is the soul’s shelter, I thought, then maybe we wouldn’t die today. That’s what the guy on Facebook promised, and somehow, I believed him.

After that moment, everything became easier. That moment of calm in the middle of fear brought something new into my life, emunah, faith.

And from that day on, I didn’t once think about the parties I was missing, or the beach, or the swimming pool, or the shopping trips on Shabbat. I didn’t long for any of it. I felt like Shabbat was guarding me, even during the week. I felt like Someone was with me all the time just because of Shabbat.

It was like I had made a silent agreement with Hashem, the One who owns everything.

My soul connected to this truth: once a week, we need to pause and say thank You to the One who gives us everything. Shabbat taught me gratitude. Gratitude for the One who is above me, beside me, and within every breath I take.

This peace of the soul disconnecting for 25 hours, the prayers, the beauty of the synagogue, the cantor’s melodies, the wisdom in the books we read,it’s the greatest gift Heaven ever gave me.

And I know Hashem will help me hold onto it at every stage of life, so I never trade it for any fleeting pleasure, no matter how tempting it may be.

I haven’t given up on enjoying life. But today, I do it with more thought. With more modesty. Less impulse, more purpose.

I pray that every Jew will come to feel the beauty and sweetness of Shabbat. That we should all merit to experience what it means to be uplifted and sanctified for one special day each week.