The first time I began questioning the concept of God as an actual possibility was an experience I had being surrounded and immersed in hundreds of voices singing in unison. It took me to a place so high, I thought, maybe this is what heaven feels like; maybe this is what it is to be among angels singing “on high”—to be angels.

Maybe “this” is “real.”

For years, I’ve been dreaming of having lots of people sitting around my dining room table singing, filling my home with voices.

Traditionally, home is the center of Jewish practice.

Traditionally, home is where women are in charge, where feminine wisdom rules, where good cooking happens to nourish the body and soul.

Home is where blessing happens, where songs are sung around a table, where love and food are shared in abundance.

Shabbos is a sanctuary in time, as Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel famously said, when we retreat from the everyday stresses of the world.

On Shabbos, we welcome in a different kind of spirit.

Especially during this time full of grief, despair and outrage, when we can literally have neighbors right next door but still feel utterly alone, we need a place and time to retreat, to find peace and tranquility, hope and connection.

I want my home to be a sanctuary for all who come, a place where food is shared in abundance, and human voices together are instruments sufficient to carry us to a different realm, even if only for a short while.

You may not know the words, you may not know the melodies—hell, you may not even be Jewish—but you can still come and let the music wash over you (and if you come often enough, you can learn).

At a time when everyone is “Zooming” out, I decided it’s time to “zoom in,” to “go local.” So I’m bringing it back home, back to the table.

Won’t you join me at my Shabbos Table Minyan?