Shabbat Shalom

I went to the most wonderful Shabbat services to day. And I am going to write about them now, because it is Shabbat, and I am going to honor the experience as immediately as I can, even though, technically, I guess you are not supposed to do writing on Shabbat, but in my view, this is all part of my way of keeping it holy.

My friend Raphael and I had been to this temple once before, for the Friday evening Kabbalat service. And it was nothing like the celebratory Kabbalat I was used to going to at Chochmat, which was basically all I knew about Friday night services, except for the Rosh Hashanah service I'd been to one with my ex-fiancé. If anything, it was a bit like church, especially with the stained glass windows they had on either side of the chapel. And up until this morning, I had never been to a Saturday morning service. In fact, up until this year, I had no idea there were such things. I only knew about Friday night Shabbat. But anyway, so we met this morning at this Conservative temple in town. Or in the city, rather. It's a little bit out of the way.

I slept in, quite egregiously, which I almost never do. But I got ready in record time, I called him, and he was fine. I managed to get there fully an hour and 20 minutes after the time I had expected to arrive, but I also wasn't the only one coming in late, and I was just in time for the beginning of the reading of the Torah.

It also happened to be a Bar Mitzvah. I really couldn't have planned it better. Because I had never actually seen a real Bar Mitzvah. And that is, of course, exactly what I want to do some time, even though I'll be a little bit older than the usual Middle School candidate. But I don't care. It's something I am looking forward to, after I go through this process of converting (or whatever it is - I'm not really changing into anything different than I already am. But anyway.) So we were blessed to be able to witness the event. And I was so touched to hear the way the parents spoke to their son with such reverence and gratitude. With such recognition for his real talents and abilities. Honoring him for who he was and is, and thanking him for being a presence in their lives. And I swear I will never forget the glowing look of pride on his face. It was not a puffed up sense of self. But a real and honest sense of self-worth that only comes through true recognition, love, and support.

It's something I never had in my life. But something I hope to be able to give some day to my own children. But that's another story.

I also was surprised to look down at the bottom of the program and see "candy." Candy? I looked at my friend. "We throw it at the Bar Mitzvah boy at the end." He smiled. I thought, this is great. During the reading, the Rabbi acknowledged a couple who was about to be married under the Chuppah tomorrow. I looked at them. They seemed young. Probably in their very early twenties. I felt glad. I felt comforted. Not everybody breaks things off before reaching the end. Some people really do strive to hold on and make things work, instead of giving up. That's worth celebrating. It's an end and it's a beginning. I'll drink to that.

After the service, there was an extra big spread for the Kiddush, because of the Bar Mitzvah. I was hungry. I went straight for the lox. I've never been much of a lox fan, but, as I told my friend at the table, maybe there is something about reading and studying Torah that induces a strange appetite for raw smoked salmon and cream cheese on a bagel. I must say it's delightful with capers. Or maybe I was just hungry. But either way, it hit the spot. It hit my J-spot. And I was happy. Can't say anything bad about the triple-layer chocolate thing, either.

So that was my first Saturday morning Torah service. I have to say I loved it. I truly and thoroughly enjoyed it. And even though I didn't know what was going on half the time, I felt so totally comfortable, I didn't even mind. I just followed along, like I always did in Church. But the difference here was that at least I could believe what I was saying. And I drank up the Hebrew, and the atmosphere; the smiles, the dancing, the celebration. The true Joy of Life and recognition of other. The father who clasped his prayer shawl over his daughter for one special moment. The babies climbing up the stairs and toddling up the aisles. The gentleman who went over and kissed the old woman on the forehead, greeting her and clasping her hand. It is these moments of personality and human interaction that make it real and human and ultimately Jewish to me. It's like reading the Human Torah. There are no words. There is no way to describe. There is only a way to do and to be. It's how you are. It's people. But it's so forgotten on the outside, sometimes. But that being and becoming of what we are is what is passed down from generation to generation, just as those scrolls are handed from Grandfather to Father to Son. From Mothers to Daughters and their daughters.

I am proud to be entering into this space. I am honored to be able to join such a community that honors each and every one if its members with honesty, grit, and humor. It makes me feel lucky. But it's not only for me. And I know I am not doing it alone.