Shabbat Among the Exiles

After about the fifth day without showering, your skin starts to feel both too hot and too cold. A gray wool sweater only makes the problem worse. But a sweater it'll have to be. Shabbat is coming to Kishinev, Moldova, and I don't want the 70 or so Ukrainian refugees gathered at the Hotel Chisinau to be distracted by my wrinkled white shirt. For the first Shabbat in over a decade, I will appear before other Jews unbathed. Still, I'm easily one of the cleanest people in the room. A dozen volunteers from all over Israel set up dinner while we sing in the Sabbath. Like a lot of religious Jews, I find our prayers a mix of collective remembrance and what I guess I'll call personal spirituality. I pray three times a day, but try as I might, I don't often see God enchanting my world.