Introduction to Shabbat Chronicles
Congregational rabbis rarely have the opportunity to experience worship services other than their own. But while on a sabbatical from my congregation, I had the opportunity to attend Shabbat services at a number of synagogues.
I feel compelled to attend synagogue on Shabbat for a number of reasons. First and foremost is the sense of hovah, of command, or obligation. Prayer is a mitzvah commanded and demanded by God.
But the truth of the matter is, I am drawn to Shabbat services by more than the sense of obligation to fulfill a mitzvah.
Quite simply, it is the anchor of my week, and without it, I feel lost. It is difficult to describe this sensation, other than to say that the familiar pattern of well-known prayers offers a sense of regularity and consistency which gives form to what transpires during the days that precede and follow the Sabbath.
Setting aside this time permits the possibility of contemplative prayer as well as being connected to our tradition and to our people. Truth be told, this reason, the sense of being connected, is probably the most compelling of all.
I am drawn by the knowledge that when I sit in a synagogue service, I am not alone. I am uttering the words of the past and become inextricably linked to both my Jewish heritage as well as to my ancestors, to the people who formulated, as well as to the ones who inherited and uttered the words throughout the millennia. I am conscious that people who recited these words throughout the ages may have been very different. Some proclaimed the words, some wrote them, and some probably mumbled them. They lived in very different lands, and had very different experiences. Yet despite being spread across the globe, and despite variations in local custom and execution, nevertheless, the regular Shabbat prayer service is something which they shared in common, and which united Jews. A Jew from Khazkakistan could travel to the Ukraine and be at home. A Jew from Morocco could find himself in a synagogue in Lebanon or Syria, and be familiar with the rites and rituals of the service.
Which brings me to my next point – Attending Shabbat services on a regular basis, especially when in a community not my own offered the chance to encounter and meet my fellow Jews. It provided the chance to observe the nature of different Jewish communities, and to see the differences and the similarities among them. Some services were more participatory than others. Some congregations were more inviting than others.
The ones I found most enjoyable were the ones where the level of congregational participation was highest, where people were familiar with the prayers and melodies, and where the liturgy was clearly familiar to them, as they felt comfortable and at ease with the service.
The other element that was significant was how I was received. I usually went out of my way to meet people. I enjoy kibitzing with congregants and learning about their lives and their community. It is amazing how similar Jews can be, and how much communities resemble one another.
But in all too many synagogues, it is possible to eat a piece of herring at a kiddush and feel invisible, as no one attempts to engage a stranger in conversation. I did not allow that to happen, because of my interest in others and desire to get to know them, and so I would go out of my way to be sure I was not invisible. As a result, at least one day a week, even if traveling, and far away from home, wherever I was, I always felt at home when in shul, my home away from home.
I feel compelled to attend synagogue on Shabbat for a number of reasons. First and foremost is the sense of hovah, of command, or obligation. Prayer is a mitzvah commanded and demanded by God.
But the truth of the matter is, I am drawn to Shabbat services by more than the sense of obligation to fulfill a mitzvah.
Quite simply, it is the anchor of my week, and without it, I feel lost. It is difficult to describe this sensation, other than to say that the familiar pattern of well-known prayers offers a sense of regularity and consistency which gives form to what transpires during the days that precede and follow the Sabbath.
Setting aside this time permits the possibility of contemplative prayer as well as being connected to our tradition and to our people. Truth be told, this reason, the sense of being connected, is probably the most compelling of all.
I am drawn by the knowledge that when I sit in a synagogue service, I am not alone. I am uttering the words of the past and become inextricably linked to both my Jewish heritage as well as to my ancestors, to the people who formulated, as well as to the ones who inherited and uttered the words throughout the millennia. I am conscious that people who recited these words throughout the ages may have been very different. Some proclaimed the words, some wrote them, and some probably mumbled them. They lived in very different lands, and had very different experiences. Yet despite being spread across the globe, and despite variations in local custom and execution, nevertheless, the regular Shabbat prayer service is something which they shared in common, and which united Jews. A Jew from Khazkakistan could travel to the Ukraine and be at home. A Jew from Morocco could find himself in a synagogue in Lebanon or Syria, and be familiar with the rites and rituals of the service.
Which brings me to my next point – Attending Shabbat services on a regular basis, especially when in a community not my own offered the chance to encounter and meet my fellow Jews. It provided the chance to observe the nature of different Jewish communities, and to see the differences and the similarities among them. Some services were more participatory than others. Some congregations were more inviting than others.
The ones I found most enjoyable were the ones where the level of congregational participation was highest, where people were familiar with the prayers and melodies, and where the liturgy was clearly familiar to them, as they felt comfortable and at ease with the service.
The other element that was significant was how I was received. I usually went out of my way to meet people. I enjoy kibitzing with congregants and learning about their lives and their community. It is amazing how similar Jews can be, and how much communities resemble one another.
But in all too many synagogues, it is possible to eat a piece of herring at a kiddush and feel invisible, as no one attempts to engage a stranger in conversation. I did not allow that to happen, because of my interest in others and desire to get to know them, and so I would go out of my way to be sure I was not invisible. As a result, at least one day a week, even if traveling, and far away from home, wherever I was, I always felt at home when in shul, my home away from home.
posted by Rabbi Stuart Weinblatt at 9:14 AM
1 Comments:
I enjoyed reading your blog. Didn't realize that you were in New York and being from NY I was interested in how you were received and your reflections of the various services you attended. I am often offended (albeit privately) by how some of my close friends and family refer to New York Jews eventhough they are Jews themselves, so am hoping that you will bring back stories of warmth to share with our congregation to shed a new light and start a new rumor.
Tracey Charapp
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