The Shabbos Phobia

Judy pedaled extra hard during Friday’s spin class. Tonight would be Shabbos. It was unavoidable. She was terrified of Shabbos. She could not easily explain what exactly it was that freaked her out about the day of rest. She just knew that she hated it. It scared her.

Her Shabbos phobia wasn’t like her other phobias. She could avoid dogs, cats, and other small furry creatures. She was able to live for the last twenty five years without traveling on an airplane. Perhaps giving up driving was inconvenient and taking the public bus everywhere was indeed a bit of a hassle but it wasn’t so bad. It was manageable. She knew where every public bathroom was along the bus route from her house to work, to the supermarket, and to the exercise club. Thankfully she never had to get off the bus mid-ride to use them but it was good knowing where they were just in case.

She knew that compared to her parents she had nothing to be afraid of. They had been through the Holocaust in the concentration camps. She had nothing to worry about that was even close to as bad as that? Considering this didn’t make her less scared but it did make her feel guilty for being such a nervous Nellie.

Judy ate every Shabbat meal at home with her parents. She never ate out on Friday night even if someone would invite her which they never did. She could only imagine what would happen if she was at someone else’s house at Friday night and she developed a stomach ache and needed to use the washroom. Imagine the shame of it. 

Her parents would understand if Judy left the table suddenly to go to her room and practice square breathing. They understood her. They were safe people. But even they couldn’t stop Shabbos from arriving. What was so bad about Friday night was how completely unavoidable it was. It took all week but then it invariably just plowed right into her like a traffic accident in slow motion. 

Lately, the Shabbos phobia was beginning to spread to the weekdays. Things that had to do with Shabbos were affecting her as well. Last Tuesday as she sat with the other bookkeepers on lunch break one of the girls mentioned a challah cover that her cousin brought the family from Israel. Judy started to shake. Just a silly thing like the word “challah cover” pulled the trigger. It would be terrible if she felt like she couldn’t go out on lunch break with the other bookkeepers.

When her therapist pushed her to talk about Shabbos she would describe the way she could feel the cold hands of God surround her as it got dark on Friday evening. She said that she could see the prohibitions sprouting up around her like mushrooms. Her knitting needles were daggers and her television set was a bomb. God was ready to smite her for Sabbath violation at a moment’s notice.

Shabbat was his day. It was the time when the master of the universe displayed the majesty of his control over our fates. As she saw the Jews hurry to synagogue she imagined them all getting on the trains bound for Auschwitz. She wished she could have hidden at the gym on Shabbos but she knew she couldn’t. God would find her there too and he’d be really mad. But it would be a good hiding spot.

All the non Jews in the gym knew nothing about Shabbos and its terrors. They all seemed gorgeous and free, confident and fun. Judy didn’t even feel bad about wearing shorts and a short sleeve shirt in the gym. Modesty laws be damned. This was the gym. While she was on her bike she was in control. No one could tell her what to do.

No one could blame Judy for immediately hating the frum woman who showed up at the gym. The woman seemed to know what she was doing but she exercised in a skirt and a sheitel. Was her presence scary or infuriating? It was not immediately clear but it was bad news, very bad news, to Judy.

Didn’t God have enough places he controlled? Why was he coming into the gym? The woman seemed friendly. Sheitel woman smiled and chatted with the beautiful and strong people but that just made her worse. Judy wished she could make her leave but she knew that there was nothing anyone could do about it. To Judy’s complete surprise, the woman walked over to speak to her.

“Hi, aren’t you Judy?” the sheitel lady asked chirpily. “I think my mother is friends with your mother. My name is Bruchie, Bruchie Fleishenfeld.” Judy waited for the woman to critically eye her shorts and short sleeves but it never came. All Judy saw was a genuine open smile.

“Oh, hi, yeah,” Judy responded cautiously. “Listen, I don’t mean to…this might not be the right place…listen, better I should tell you then you hear it from someone else but I wouldn’t work out in that whole get up.” She said motioning in disgust to Bruchie Fleishenfeld’s clothing. “It might get caught in the machines” Judy clarified.

There was a second of awkward silence as Bruchie’s smile melted ever so slightly. Why did this woman have to show up in her stupid frummie outfit and make trouble? She saw Bruchie dabbed her forehead with the hand towel, smile again, and shrug. “Oh well, what can I do?” Bruchie giggled, “Could you imagine my skirt getting caught in the elliptical machine? That would be hilarious. Ha! One of the muscle guys would have to pry me loose…Anyway, thanks for the warning, I guess we’ll all have to have a bit of bitachon.” As she walked away Bruchie added “remember to tell your mother that you met Mrs. Fleishenfeld’s daughter at the gym.”

Judy was furious. Bitachon? How could some people be such simpletons, such weak minded fools? Judy glanced up at the clock. It would only be six more hours till Shabbos arrived. Judy closed her eyes and pedaled harder than she ever pedaled in her life. Sweat poured off of her as she tried with all her efforts to get away from sheitel lady, the ever encroaching Almighty God and his terrifying Shabbos. But the bike remained stationary.