Intro to Judaism - Week 10

Friday was our class “Shabbat Experience.” We went to a special service at the synagogue that hosts our class, and then we had a potluck Shabbat dinner afterward. Nicole had been so looking forward to this, and then got stuck staying home because of an oil leak. We had the burner serviced Thursday, and apparently that caused a leak since the oil line wasn’t installed well. She came home from work to the smell of oil in our house and had to wait all evening for workers to be available to come out and fix it. (Home ownership is fun!) She was really upset, as she had missed class Thursday to celebrate her sister’s birthday so she’d be free Friday, and had left work two hours early to make sure she could get to the city on time.

So I went by myself, and started out upset because I knew how upset Nicole was that she was missing it. However, that feeling quickly dissipated as I bumped shoulder-to-shoulder with congregants and knew Nicole would be so overwhelmed by the crowd and chaos that she probably would have left!

Let me start by saying that I’d like to attend a regular Shabbat service at this temple because there were two separate things my brain was trying to process – the difference between our temple and this one, and the difference between this special service and regular services. There was a “Jewish rock star” named Rick Recht who seemed like he’d be a great guest star on Sesame Street. His performances were very kid-friendly, with lots of participation and engagement. I think if he had come to my humble suburban temple, I would have enjoyed it more because it would be one thing different. But with everything being different, it was too much. I felt like I was at a preschool service, though it clearly wasn’t because the kids were offered a separate service downstairs.

I should start at the beginning, because I’m already becoming jumbled.

The entrance area outside the sanctuary was like half a horseshoe, whereas ours is a very large open space. They were having the oneg before, which we learned they do once a month during the special musical service. It made sense because the service was too early to be able to have dinner beforehand (6:00, whereas ours starts at 8:00) and the little ones would probably get a bit cranky without a snack. But it forced us into the schmoozing part of services, which even with people we know in our own congregation, we generally avoid. We are sooo tired on Friday nights that it’s all we can do to make it to the service, and staying after 9:00 to schmooze is just out of the question. It doesn’t help that neither of us is very social by nature, so when we DO go, we tend to awkwardly sit by ourselves, trying to figure out when is not too soon to leave.

After chatting a bit with classmates and our teacher, another woman and I decided to go ahead into the sanctuary. (It’s a shame how bad I am with names – halfway through the class, I know a lot about her story but don’t know her name.) Both of us were overwhelmed with all the shoulder-bumping and the volume of the conversations around us. It was PACKED. We started to head into the sanctuary to get away from it all and were stopped by a greeter (identified by his fancy nametag that said “greeter”). He told us that the service would be beginning outside and not to go in yet. Wait, huh? What do you mean outside? So we stood by the doors until the rabbi began singing to get everyone’s attention. She then lit the Shabbat candles and did Kiddush outside the sanctuary. I wonder if this is normal for them??

The floodgates finally opened and we went up to get seats together as a class. The sanctuary looked so different from ours. First of all, it’s massive. We come from a little humble synagogue in Long Island, and this is a big synagogue on the Upper East Side of Manhattan with at least three rabbis. This was a large space, and even had a balcony section. (Though it’s worth noting that even on a popular service night such as this, the downstairs wasn’t close to filled. It must take Yom Kippur to occupy all those seats.) The seats were like old movie theater chairs, instead of the wooden pews at ours. The ark which holds the Torah looked like a giant mezuzzah (the scroll-holders Jews place in the doorways of their homes). And I mean GIANT. It was floor-to-cavernous-ceiling, and very ornate. You could see the Torah inside through the grate. I enjoyed seeing how different an ark could look!

Early on, the rabbi sang a prayer in such a different way than I’m used to that I couldn’t join her. The guy next to me said it was a Sephardic style – Sephardic Jews come from Spain (and maybe Italy?), whereas Ashkenazi Jews come from Eastern Europe (Russia, Poland, etc.) Our rabbi (and most of our congregation, I assume) is Ashkenazi and that’s what I’m used to. The guy said she doesn’t always sing it that way, though.

From then on, I was engaged on-and-off. I’d start to get really into the service and enjoy the comfort in being able to chant and pray and sing no matter what group of people I was with and no matter what the four walls around me looked like. Then something would change so dramatically that I was shut out again, just like that. I’m not sure how much of it was how another temple does things, and how much of it was because there was this groovy, shaggy-haired, youth-retreat-ish performer leading the service. He sang “L’Chah Dodi” in such a unique way that initially put me off but which I pretty quickly got into, once I was able to pick up on the tune he was using. Other pieces were so different I could never quite get into them, such as the call to worship. I know at my temple that I bow when the rabbi does, not the cantor, because he is the one calling us to worship and we are responding. Here, I couldn’t figure out what was happening when because of the people involved and the way it was sung. It all sort of blended together.

Overall I was able to take it in stride, feeling like I would get a kick out of the way he mixed things up if it were in the comfort and familiarity of my own temple, and also feeling like I would somewhat enjoy a service at a different temple if it were more standard and traditional where I got to really experience their rabbis and cantor. The only things I really objected to was how he led the Sh’ma. It’s something very serious and deeply significant to me, the closest thing to a declaration of faith that we have as Jews. Having to learn and remember cutesy hand motions to go with each word was very distracting and even felt irreverent. I suppose it makes sense for a family service, but since the little ones were called out to their own service, that didn’t even seem like it was necessarily the purpose.

I miss our rabbi, and I miss our temple. I feel like I went away to summer camp, and while it was an interesting getaway, I can’t wait to come home to my family this Friday.

Let me end this by noting that I just freaked out with excitement when I realized I instinctually wrote “we as Jews” without thinking twice.