The Sea Captain’s House
- Leann Shamash
- Aug 5
- 5 min read
Updated: Aug 6
Parshat Vaetchanan contains the beginnings of a rule book of how to do Jewish. The Ten Commandments are the basics of the commandments, among the many others that are mentioned in other portions. Included this week is also the basis of the Jewish faith, the Shema, which declares the oneness of God. Following this declaration are instructions in the V'Ahavta for when and where and how to remember and love God. In the big picture of the parshiyot, we have to consider Va'etchanan as a road map to follow to the best of our abilities (actually, the text tells us to not veer to the right or the left of instructions, so perhaps to the best of our abilities is not quite enough, so we always have to strive for more.)
(Deuteronomy 5:29)
Parshat Va'etchanan has a special name, Shabbat Nachamu, which translates as the Sabbath of Comfort following the conclusion of the three weeks leading to Tisha B'Av. From now until the not too distant holiday of Rosh Hashannah we receive weekly messages of comfort in preparation for the period of introspection. We are weary after the three weeks and these seven weeks before the holiday season build our spiritual muscles and how we need them during this summer of 2025.
As a parsha that takes us forward in time from theory to practice, this week I have tried to bring the act of living Jewishly and following the instruction of the V'ahavta to a short story. The story has a grain of truth, but lots of liberties were taken in the history of the sea captain's house and the families who lived there over time. I have always wanted to write books for children, so this is written in the style that might be a children's book, but I hope that the message given is clear.
Wishing you comfort and may we hear better news soon.
Leann
Once, long, long ago, in a sleepy seaside town, on a tree lined curvy street, a crusty sea captain named Barnabas built a cozy white house. The little house snuggled itself onto a green meadow to its east and forest to its west. It had all that a house needed; a kitchen garden, a hearth made of bricks for cooking and washing, snug beds above wide pine floors, fireplaces to keep the family warm in the winters and a beehive oven to bake crusty breads.
In that cozy house on that quiet street, the sea captain's wife raised his family while Barnabas was at sea. Children filled the nooks and crannies of every room and the house was full of frolic and escapades. From the windows the family could smell the sea air and could gaze outward at the tall maples, the passing deer and the rich meadow. There were barns for the horses, sleigh rides in the winter. On dark of summer nights fireflies flew and always there was the salty scent of the sea.
Years passed. Not ten or twenty or even one hundred, but double that. Barnabus, the sea captain died and others took residence in the house. One family after another, generation to generation and slowly the house grew and changed.
Over the years, the fireplaces that heated the house with their cheery flames were replaced with heaters that clanged and hissed. With the invention of electricity oil lamps were no longer needed to light the house and plumbing was added so the children didn’t need to pump wells outdoors for water. Instead of washing clothes in a big tub, washing machines were squeezed into a corner. Instead of carriages passing down the curving lane, now there were automobiles that whirred past. Instead of letters there were telephones. Instead of reading into the night by candlelight, televisions appeared and then boxy computers and finally tiny phones which could do more and more each and every year.
Finally, not too long ago. the last person who lived in the sea caption's house moved away and the house sat patiently and quietly waiting, for a house is not a home unless it is lived in.
One cloudy summer's day a new family moved into the cozy old house, all their furniture piled onto a rickety pick-up truck. That very day they filled the little house with beds and tables, wooden dressers and overstuffed sofas. They filled the pantries with food and the beds with pillows and comforters.
But this new noisy family was different. They nailed slender silver boxes with the Hebrew letters Shin, Dalet and Yud to the doors of the house.
Onto the mantles over the fireplaces they placed brass candlesticks and boxes to collect change. Onto the deep bookshelves, along with novels about the sea and sailing ships they added books with Hebrew letters, filled with prayers. On the old oak desk they placed a thick and well used book filled with stories of creation, the Exodus and a stern but loving God. On the eastern wall they placed an illustration of a Hebrew word, mizrach.
On weekday mornings the father would bind slender leather straps around his arms, his fingers and his head and would then drape himself under a large fringed cloth.
On Friday mornings the smell of bread would waft through the windows and on Friday nights one could hear, if passing down the winding road, the sound of laughter and song and so the captain's house became a Jewish house through and through, from the cool basement made of local stones, to the children's bunk beds upstairs, it was a Jewish house.
What made the captain's house a Jewish house? Perhaps it was the objects on the walls, in the pantry and the books read. Perhaps it was the people themselves or perhaps it was a combination of both that made it a Jewish house; but, no, really what is was was a Jewish home.
Sometimes, when candles glowed on the table, and the house was filled with Sabbath song, the mother would glance from here to there in this old house built by Barnabas, the man who had sailed the seas. Her eyes would drift from person to person sitting around the big dining room table as she imagined the sea captain's family in the year 1830, seated around the hearth, eating rabbit stew and freshly baked bread. That mother also imagined that the sea captain would smile at the sounds of noisy conversation and the music of the blessings on the wine and sweet challah in this cozy little house in a sleepy seaside town. A Jewish home through and through.
"There are men who travel far to look for something that they can find in their own homes. " ~~ Mishle Yehoshua
Jewish Quotations
The great doors of Shabbat are swinging
open over the ocean, loosing the moon
floating up slow distorted vast, a copper
balloon just sailing free.
– Marge Piercy from “Wellfleet Shabbat”
וְאָ֣הַבְתָּ֔ אֵ֖ת יְ-הֹ-וָ֣-ה אֱלֹהֶ֑יךָ בְּכל־לְבָבְךָ֥ וּבְכל־נַפְשְׁךָ֖ וּבכל־מְאֹדֶֽךָ׃
You shall love your God י-ה-ו-ה with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.
וְהָי֞וּ הַדְּבָרִ֣ים הָאֵ֗לֶּה אֲשֶׁ֨ר אָנֹכִ֧י מְצַוְּךָ֛ הַיּ֖וֹם עַל־לְבָבֶֽךָ׃
Take to heart these instructions with which I charge you this day.
וְשִׁנַּנְתָּ֣ם לְבָנֶ֔יךָ וְדִבַּרְתָּ֖ בָּ֑ם בְּשִׁבְתְּךָ֤ בְּבֵיתֶ֙ךָ֙ וּבְלֶכְתְּךָ֣ בַדֶּ֔רֶךְ וּֽבְשׁכְבְּךָ֖ וּבְקוּמֶֽךָ׃
Impress them upon your children. Recite them when you stay at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you get up.
וּקְשַׁרְתָּ֥ם לְא֖וֹת עַל־יָדֶ֑ךָ וְהָי֥וּ לְטֹטָפֹ֖ת בֵּ֥ין עֵינֶֽיךָ׃
Bind them as a sign on your hand and let them serve as a symbol on your forehead;
וּכְתַבְתָּ֛ם עַל־מְזֻז֥וֹת בֵּיתֶ֖ךָ וּבִשְׁעָרֶֽיךָ׃ {ס}
inscribe them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.
Deuteronomy 6:5-9
Other posts on Parshat Va'etchanan from Words Have Wings
Nachamu Ami
Nachamu
Six Words
בְּבֵיתֶ֙ךָ֙
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