The service began thirty minutes ago. I think. Maybe. Actually, I'm not entirely sure. Somewhere off to my right some one is singing in Hebrew, but I can’t see him because I am sitting slightly behind the stage and my view is partially blocked by lace curtains. Dozens of men milled around on my side of the room, shaking hands, greeting one another with a rousing L’shana Tova!* Some were putting on their prayer shawls (Tallit), long white pieces of fabric usually with blue or black stripes and long tassels attached. The Hebrew singing continues and periodically some of the men will join in with the chant, but most are paying no attention as they catch up with friends, holding conversations on business, school studies, and how their kids and grandkids are. Though many people say, hello and L’shana Tova to me, I feel distinctly out of place and unsure of myself.It all started a couple of weeks before the service when I asked a business acquaintance, who I knew to be Jewish, if he could recommend adult Hebrew classes for me to help me with my seminary studies. We had a brief conversation about religious difference that culminated in him inviting me to Rosh Hoshana services at Chabad of Scottsdale.
I showed up a thirty minutes early and hoped to see my friend. I stood out front, off to the side and watched the line of people entering the building. I wore a suit, figuring it was better to be overdressed than too casual, but many of the younger men were wearing casual clothes. Being Scottsdale, I had to laugh at the man wearing cowboy boots, a western vest and a yarmulke. Finally, this older gentleman came up to me and asked in an accented voice, “Why wait out here and don’t go inside?” I told him that I was new and waiting for a friend. He said, “From today on, I am your friend. You can come inside now.” With that, he took my shoulder and escorted me inside. I told him, I have no kippah (yarmulke) and he laughed and said not to worry. “What color you should want, red, black, green, blue? We’ll get you one.” Looking through a drawer, I found a simple black one and put it on. He then showed me to my seat and wandered away, jovially saying, L’shana Tova to everyone he passed.
Somehow, I was expecting something similar to Christian church services I have attended so many times. Nope. Nothing of the like. Though it was a religious service, and there were many things that were similar, it’s the small differences that made it such a cross-cultural experience. It’s even hard to explain all the differences, but they added up to an experience that was far from anything else I’d ever experienced.
The elderly man who was my new friend, came wandering back with the Rabbi, who promptly began speaking to me in Hebrew. Embarrassed, I told him I wasn’t Jewish and spoke no Hebrew. He smiled friendly and told me that’s OK. (it made me think of the old Mel Brooks movie joke, "I'm not Jewish" and the response is, "That's OK, nobody's perfect.") My new friend told him I was waiting for my business acquaintance, whom the Rabbi knew. The Rabbi welcomed me and wandered off, back to the stage area which was actually around the corner from my chair, so I couldn’t even see what was going on.
The service continued with the Chazzan (song leader) singing in Hebrew with brief moments of audience participation in Hebrew. The service was laid out in a book with Hebrew on one side and the English translation on the other. I tried to follow along, but, since everything spoken was in Hebrew, the English was only of limited help. I finally recognized the Hebrew word melech which I know means ‘king’. Since they use that word A LOT, it became easy enough to at least keep up. The Rabbi also kept calling out the page numbers, so I managed to stumble along. I still felt greatly out of place because the others knew when to stand, to sit, to take a few steps back and forward, and when to bow. I was always a little bit behind. This part was very comparable to a Catholic service, which, since my wife grew up Catholic, I have had occasion to experience.
The Rabbi came back and brought someone else with him. He introduced us and told the new guy who I was waiting for and they both wandered off. Periodically, the Rabbi would bring someone else by and let him know who I was waiting for and would introduce us. All of this occurred while the service was going on.
Over the next hour or so, men and women continued arriving, going to their different sides of the room and beginning rounds of greeting with those participating in the service. Slaps on the back. Greetings of L’shana Tova. Discussions about children. These all continued while the Hebrew singing and audience participation continued. And, the Rabbi and others kept bringing people up to meet me. It made me chuckle to picture this happening at a Christian church, with people greeting each other while worship went on or while the pastor gave his sermon. Hard to imagine. What’s more, as the service continued over the next few hours, I noticed that people were not only coming in, but wandering out and leaving on their own schedules.
My friend finally showed up and stopped to welcome me. Several men came by and told him I was there looking for him. He must have thought that I had met the whole congregation. By that time, I may have, because of the busy little Rabbi introducing me. He gave some explanation and guidance about what was going on and a little about what the purpose of the service was. He invited me to stay or leave as was comfortable and then went to his assigned seat to participate.
After five hours of Hebrew singing, quiet prayer, a brief homily in English, shofar blowing and lots of standing and sitting, I finally had to go pick up my daughter from school. I quietly left. I was sad that I couldn't stay through the end, but I had enjoyed the experience. Perhaps the only disappointing part of the whole experience was the blowing of the Shofar. I expected a deep resonating tone, like something out of an old movie about Vikings. Instead, it was shorter and high pitched, more like a child’s toy horn. Just goes to show that we shouldn’t base our expectations on Hollywood.
My favorite observation concerned the children. They came and went, often coming into the room and climbing up on Grandpa’s lap. Even the rabbi held a young boy for awhile while still running the service. How rich it must be for children to grow up immersed in their culture and not sent off to another room for a watered down version of religion.
I truly loved the respect they showed to the Torah. As they opened the Ark each time, where there were several Torah stored, everyone would stand and become quiet. These were no small scrolls, but very large, very ornate, and very special. When it was finally time for the Torah reading, they brought two out and walked them around the room. Men would touch the corner of their Tallit to the Torah scrolls and then kiss the Tallit. I would wish that more Christians held that type of respect to the word of G-d.
Though somewhat uncomfortable, as all cultural experiences are, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. But, it made me question my own traditions. When someone comes in and visits our church, do they have any idea what is going on? Though our service is in English, does an outsider understand some of the words and phrases that we use that are specific to Christian faith and practice? Have we missed out on some beautiful and rich traditions by losing the essential Jewishness that marked Yeshua, Shaul, Shimon, (Jesus, Paul, Simon), and the other disciples, and completely saturated their teachings?
In the short conversation that my friend and I had weeks before, when he invited me to the service, it was immediately clear that he misunderstood some basic concepts of Christianity, even though the Christian faith came directly out of the Jewish faith. I’m sure that this is how he understood things from previous explanations, but still, it wasn’t quite right. How can we better communicate our similarities and the truths of what we believe without assuming that they already understand. What have we lost in our Christianity over the centuries, considering the first ‘Christians’ were actually Jews who believed that Meshiach had come in the form of Yeshua.
During the service, it was painfully obvious that I was the stranger. Being the only man in the room not wearing the Tallit and obviously out of place and unsure, I must have stuck out like a sore thumb. Though people were very welcoming and polite, it was still clear that they recognized me as a visitor. This makes me wonder, how then can we as Christians be welcoming without making someone feel like they are the stranger? I have to be honest, while we don’t wear any special clothing like a Tallit or kippah, it is still clear who comfortably belongs and who is just visiting.
I am thankful to my friend for inviting me and I hope to visit again, because I want to understand the similarities and the rich history that comes from our Jewish roots. We are separated by the belief that Meshiach has come, and by some unfortunate historic anti-semitism that must be apologized and atoned for. But, those things don’t have to separate us today as people of G-d.
I will continue to build my Hebrew vocabulary till I am fluent, in hopes to be a better scholar and to better understand the precious word of G-d.
Next time I visit, though, I’ll bring my Tallit. I actually own one that I purchased for Seder several years ago. Maybe that way, I won’t feel so out of place, and really…. just how many chances does one get to wear a Tallit?
Till then, L’shana Tova Tikatevu. May you be inscribed in the Book of Life.
Please know that these are observations from an outsider and not meant to be flippant or in any way disrespectful. Any accidental affronts, misuse of terms, or misunderstanding of the events described are unintentional, coming solely from my ignorance and only reinforce my desire for understanding. Please accept my apology if there are any such offences. Thank you for sharing your faith and traditions with me. Thank you to Jerry, Nathan, the Rabbi whose name I missed, to the Orthodox Jewish young man who gave me his seat, and the dozens of wonderful people who were so welcoming to me. Thanks also to Chabad of Scottsdale for the experience. May you each be blessed by the King and Creator of all.
