Arukh HaShulchan, Orach Chaim 298:1-8

Hook

Imagine a Friday night in a bustling, sun-drenched courtyard in the heart of the Old City of Jerusalem or a quiet, incense-scented synagogue in Djerba. The air is thick with the scent of jasmine and the anticipation of the Sabbath Queen. As the sun dips below the horizon, the community does not merely "keep" Shabbat; they embrace it as a long-awaited guest, inviting the Shekhinah (Divine Presence) into the home with the resonant, rhythmic melodies of the Bakashot—songs of longing—that bridge the gap between the mundane week and the holy stillness of the seventh day.

Context

The Geography of the Sephardi & Mizrahi Diaspora

The Sephardi and Mizrahi tradition is not a monolith; it is a tapestry woven across continents. From the intellectual centers of Spain (Sepharad) to the ancient, continuous communities of Iraq (Bavel), Syria (Aram Soba), and North Africa (Maghreb), the tradition carries the weight of history—both the brilliance of the Golden Age and the resilience of the exile.

The Era of Synthesis

The practices we observe today, particularly those concerning the transition into Shabbat, are the result of centuries of refinement. While the Talmud provides the bedrock, the post-exilic Sephardi/Mizrahi halakhic framework—codified by giants like Rabbi Yosef Karo (the Shulchan Arukh)—was nurtured by the mystical insights of the Zohar and the practical, lived reality of communities that maintained Jewish continuity in diverse, often challenging, political landscapes.

The Community as a Living Library

Unlike a tradition that relies solely on the written page, this heritage is oral and communal. It is held in the throat of the hazzan, the hands of the mother preparing the ḥallah, and the collective memory of the congregation. It is a tradition that views Minhag (custom) not as an inferior sibling to Halakhah (law), but as the essential, pulsing blood that gives the law its warmth and direction.

Text Snapshot

The Arukh HaShulchan (Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein) reflects on the sanctity of the Havdalah ceremony, the bridge between the sacred and the profane:

"It is a mitzvah to perform Havdalah over a cup of wine... and we are accustomed to smell spices, for the soul is saddened by the departure of the additional soul (neshamah yeterah) that it possessed on the Sabbath. By smelling the spices, the soul is comforted and restored... Just as we usher in the Sabbath with wine, so too do we usher it out with wine."

Note: While the Arukh HaShulchan is an Ashkenazi work, the Sephardi tradition mirrors this sentiment through the lens of the Kabbalistic teachings of the Arizal, emphasizing the restoration of the soul’s vitality.

Minhag/Melody

The Art of the Maqam

One cannot discuss the Sephardi/Mizrahi liturgical experience without addressing the system of Maqam. This is the musical DNA of the Middle Eastern Jewish experience. In the Syrian tradition, for example, the melodies used in the synagogue—from the reading of the Torah to the singing of piyutim—are chosen based on the Maqam that matches the emotional character of the Torah portion or the specific holiday.

On a Shabbat morning, the community might chant the Kaddish in a mode that evokes joy and majesty, while the afternoon Minhah service might shift to a mode that encourages introspection and yearning. This is not merely "singing"; it is a sophisticated, ancient system of emotional architecture. When a congregation sings the Yedid Nefesh—a masterpiece of Kabbalistic poetry attributed to Rabbi Elazar Azikri of Safed—the melody serves as a vessel. The Maqam guides the practitioner through a sensory journey, moving from the intellectual recognition of God’s love to a visceral, emotional surrender.

The Bakashot Tradition

In many Mizrahi communities, particularly those of Aleppo and Jerusalem, the Bakashot (literally "requests") are a profound liturgical practice. These are collections of poems and hymns sung in the early hours of the Sabbath morning, long before the sun rises. The participants gather in the synagogue, often while it is still dark, and weave through a complex cycle of piyutim.

This practice honors the neshamah yeterah (the "additional soul") that we receive upon the onset of Shabbat. By rising early to sing, the community demonstrates that the Sabbath is not a time for sloth, but for the elevation of the spirit. The melodies are passed down through generations—a sonic inheritance that binds the grandchild to the grandparent. If you walk into a sanctuary during the singing of Ya Ribon Olam, you are hearing a song that has been sung in synagogues from Baghdad to Brooklyn, a unifying thread that transcends geography and emphasizes the continuity of the Jewish heart.

Contrast

Sephardi/Mizrahi vs. Ashkenazi Havdalah

A beautiful, respectful difference exists in how we conclude the Sabbath. While the underlying obligation to separate the holy from the mundane remains the same, the minhag varies in the details of the Besamim (spices) and the Ner (candle).

In many Sephardi traditions, the Havdalah candle is often constructed by braiding multiple wicks together, emphasizing the "fire" of the week’s work being unified into a single flame of sanctity. Furthermore, the recitation of Hamavdil—the poetic songs sung after the formal Havdalah blessings—is a vibrant, communal affair in Sephardi synagogues. In many Ashkenazi circles, Havdalah is a more contained, domestic moment. In the Sephardi/Mizrahi world, it is often a communal celebration, frequently accompanied by the singing of Eliyahu HaNavi and Shavua Tov with such vigor that it feels as though the community is literally singing the new week into existence. Neither is "more" correct; rather, one emphasizes the domestic sanctuary, while the other emphasizes the communal bridge between the holy and the mundane.

Home Practice

The "Scent of the Soul"

This week, adopt a simple but transformative practice rooted in the Sephardi appreciation for the neshamah yeterah. As Shabbat draws to a close, instead of rushing to check your phone or dive back into the digital world, take a moment for a sensory reset.

Find a small container of aromatic spices—cloves, cinnamon, or even fresh rosemary or myrtle leaves. Before you recite the Havdalah blessings, hold the spices in your hand and take three deep, intentional breaths. Close your eyes and visualize the "additional soul" of the Sabbath not leaving you, but being integrated into your body, becoming the fuel for your week ahead. When you smell the spices, recite a short prayer of gratitude for the rest you have experienced. This small act turns a ritual obligation into a moment of mindfulness, keeping the "fragrance" of the Sabbath with you long after the candles are extinguished.

Takeaway

The Sephardi and Mizrahi tradition teaches us that holiness is not a destination, but a rhythm. Whether through the intricate maqamat that color our prayers or the communal singing that turns the end of Shabbat into a joyous celebration, our heritage reminds us that we are part of a long, unbroken chain of voices. We do not just observe the law; we live it through our senses, our music, and our shared communal life. Carry the melody of the piyut in your heart this week—it is the sound of a people who have learned, through every challenge, how to sing.