We eagerly entered the kosher deli, fresh from seminary gathering, excited for a mountain of pastrami and more time together.

Our waiter, a Jordanian man, anticipated not just our needs, but our every whim. He even took care of my by the lb. order.

“I don’t know how he manages to work in a restaurant through Ramadan!” my friend said, shaking their head. They still wore their kippah, and Mohammad mentioned it during a discussion of pickles and beverages.

“I like your -” he pointed. “You are Shabbat shalom?”

“Yes,” they replied grinning.

Mohammad turned to me, bare-headed but wearing a Mogen David. “You are Shabbat shalom too?”

I nodded, absolutely delighted at this description.

I thought about it the rest of the day, and night, and day. What does it mean to BE a Shabbat shalom? Can I be someone’s day of rest, someone’s respite from the world?

“Seek peace and pursue it.” (Psalm 34:14) Am I one who makes peace, or helps others to find it? Can I maintain my peace amidst the chaos of the news cycle?

What am I doing to achieve wholeness, to repair wounds wherever I see them in the world? Am I bringing my whole self to everything I do?

“You are a Shabbat shalom?”

I’m trying, as are we all. Wishing peace (and pastrami) to you, friends.