Orthodox

Last week I visited a Modern Orthodox synagogue. It was my first American Orthodox experience (my first one ever was in France). And it was probably my first Modern Orthodox time, to my knowledge. And I found out I liked it. I really liked it. In fact, it is kind of shaking up my pre-conceived ideas about how I found myself finding Judaism how much I liked it.

I've always known that I liked Orthodox ideas. I just was never sure how much I would like it in practice. I am a little scared of those cult-like communities I hear about where Ultra-Orthodox Jews live all together and hardly go out of their community. But this was not that.

I even like the Mechitzah. Who would have thought I would like a mechitzah? I found it comforting, in a way. It was like, I didn't have to worry about sitting next to guys I didn't want to sit next to. The only awkward thing was that it meant only women were going to come up and greet me. But a very nice man did come out to see me when I came in the front door, and told me where to go. I was grateful for that.

And I liked the room. I really liked the room. It was odd, because it didn't look very big or special from the outside, but on the inside, it was very big, and it felt very special. Perhaps because it was somewhat of a secret. You didn't know what was inside from looking at it from the outside. The pews were nice. The lighting was nice. The Mechitzah was low - not a full mechitzah - and it, too, was nice. Visually appealing. There, but not too distracting. And of course the Aron was nice. Understated, but clearly attractive in a respectful sort of way.

The most unusual thing about the room was that it was a very large space, with a high, peaked ceiling - it occurs to me now that perhaps I like it because it reminds me somewhat of my parents church from home, only with more rugs. And, like my parents church, it is a dark room, with lots of wood, but that somehow lets in a lot of light. I figured out the secret. They had several rows of small, widely spaced, yellow-glass windows set into the sweeping, high sides of the ceiling/roof. And on the patio side, the women's side, light came in through large glass doors, each of which sported a very large and clearly visible exit sign with an arrow pointing toward the door. I was reminded of the Mitzvah of removing all hazards from your home. This seemed very much in line.

I asked the man who greeted me whether I needed to keep my head covered (even though I'm not married). He said I did not, but that it was perfectly appropriate. I kept my hat on.

The only part of the Mechitzah I did not love was that when the brought the Torah around before and after it was read, they only carried it through the men's section. And as they did that, the women would line up along the wall to reach over and touch the torah scrolls with their hands or siddurs. It felt low, to me. It felt base. I felt I was being asked to do something undignified. Of course I love the Torah. But if you want me to kiss the scrolls, you are going to have to bring it to me. Even if it means handing it over to a woman. I am told this is done in some synagogues, and I think it is a perfectly acceptable compromise. Otherwise, don't ask me to participate in this ritual. I did it this time, but never again. That will be my protest.

Other than that, I had no problems with the separation of men and women. Children, of course, ambled up and down the aisles of both sides, boys and girls. It got to the point where the rabbi had to stand up and ask parents to go and gather their children ("now"), because there were "roaming gangs of short people." Not that they wanted children silent or out of sight and mind. Just that they were getting a little unruly.

And strangely, it did not bother me that only men read from the Torah, and spoke from the dais. A little boy even sat up front in one of the big chairs beside the Aron. And the rabbis seemed young to me - they were not much older than I was. And only the men wore prayer shawls. But this was somewhat relieving. I respected the fact that they wore prayer shawls and read from the Torah. I appreciated it more because I realize it is a big task to read the Torah, and a large show of humility and devotion to display your faith by wearing a prayer shawl. None of the women wore them, unlike the Conservative synagogue I have been attending. But even though I like wearing a shawl at that synagogue, I appreciated the fact that I was not expected to here. It made me feel that I don't have to measure up to guys on their level. They have their own expectations of who and how they are going to be in Shul, and I have mine. The expectations of me as a woman are different. Not better or worse, just different.

And men don't separate women away because they don't want them to be near them. Quite possibly the opposite. My sense is that they don't want to have a conflict between devotion to God and devotion to their female partner in the same moment. It is upholding one by upholding the other - not diluting each by trying to do too much at once. I respect that. I even appreciate it. And it makes me respect the men more for being who they are, and for not feeling like they have to spend every minute of every day chasing after the feminine in their lives. It is good for them to take time out and focus on something else.

but that didn't stop them from turning around and scanning over the women's section of the room (which was decidedly less full than the men's), blithely, as if we couldn't see them looking at us. And we pretended we didn't. Or at least I did.

And maybe what you have just read will confirm your beliefs that Orthodox Judaism is way off, out of date, and irrelevant to modern society. That may be right. But maybe that's why I like it. It holds onto itself despite what outside ideas and pressures might seem to say. It doesn't necessarily think it's better or more right, just that it's better and more right that it continues to do what it has been doing for a long time. And this Shul, by comparison to many, would probably be considered "loose." But again, I have to say it was scary to me how much I liked it. Scary in an exciting way. Scary in a new way. A way that makes me wonder if Orthodox Judiasm isn't something I want to look into more. Perhaps it isn't something I should be afraid of. Perhaps it is something I have been looking for all along. I don't know. But I guess we'll see.