Leading High Holy Days in Rosh Ha'ayin

I spent my High Holy Days (HHDs) this year with a Progressive (Reform) congregation in a city called Rosh Ha’ayin, which is a big suburb of Tel Aviv as Cherry Hill is a big suburb of Philly. The congregation’s name is B’vat Ayin, which means “Apple of the Eye.” I was offered a chance to lead services in Odessa, Ukraine, but I insisted on spending the HHDs here, in Israel. Ayala Miron, an Israeli rabbinic student graduating this November, and I have been friends since my first year. We were fortunate to spend time together again on the bike ride-fundraiser, Riding4Reform, this May. Ayala phoned Eli Schliefer, the director of cantorial studies in Israel, over the summer and requested my presence in her student-congregation. I was thrilled when I heard the news.

Ayala and I met a few times before the HHDs, to plan the service and go over which tunes would be sung. One of my biggest challenges was to provide a meaningful musical experience to a very diverse group. Ayala herself was born to Iraqi parents, making it difficult to answer my questions about the tunes that were known to the congregation, because most of the tunes that I know are from an Ashkenazi (from European Jewry) background. To make things worse, this was to be the first year that services were to be provided for both Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur for this community. They were in their second year of existence. Last year they had Kol Nidrei (beginning of Yom Kippur) and N’ilah (end of Yom Kippur) services. This meaning that there is no set minhag (prayer tradition) for this congregation. It was both exciting and nerve-wracking to think that I would be part of the foundation of a Progressive congregation in Israel. So when Ayala and I planned services, I would ask her if this tune was known, she said she didn’t know, I would ask Eli, he would say it could be any tune, and then I would just pick one. It was like writing a set list for a Beatles cover band without knowing which songs were popular.

A couple weeks before Rosh Hashanah I traveled up to Rosh Ha’ayin with Rabbi Na’amah Kelman and her husband Ilan to meet the congregation. I led a Kabbalat Shabbat (Friday evening) service with Ayala for the congregation. They have yet to find the funds to buy a building (every Progressive congregation’s problem since they have a very hard time charging dues) so we had services in a community center that eerily reminded me of a JCC (but then what’s the point of a JCC in Israel…hehe). We arrived a bit late as traffic was tough leaving Jerusalem. I walked into our sanctuary for the evening, which was a dance studio the other six days of the week. It had a mirror, a pole, the works. There were about 40 chairs set up for the intimate Shabbat group. Ayala told me they get 20-40 people during their Shabbat services which they hold two-three times per month with many more during the holidays. That night we had 30 people attending. They were all very kind and received the service well. We sang many tunes that they knew and they sang along enthusiastically. One of Ayala’s sons, 16 year-old Noam, played a conga drum during the upbeat songs. The upbeat songs were exciting and the slow tunes had a sense of holiness that I could only sense from watching the faces of those who had come to pray. It was a great Shabbat experience. I went to Ayala’s house for dinner and had an incredible meal. Her family is fantastic. Her husband, Avi, bikes around Israel every Friday morning. That morning he and some friends drove up to the Kinneret and rode up to Tz’fat and back! Tz’fat is the second highest city in Israel to Jerusalem. It is quite the climb as I remember my Geo-rental car barely making the climb. Ayala has two other sons, Nitzan who is currently in the Army and Itamar who is 14.
For Rosh Hashanah I rented a car and drove up to Rosh Ha’ayin. They didn’t have evening services as they chose to spend that time with their families. I drove up in the morning and managed to arrive to the HHD location just as Ayala and her family were getting there.
These services were to take place in a school. The municipality designated this space for the congregations use. This surprised me, as most Progressive congregations have to fight for space from the local government, partially made up of observant Jews, which shuns ‘Reformim’ for not adhering to the tenants of Traditional Judaism. Apparently this city has been good to B’vat Ayin as the mayor will be coming to services on November fourth.
The space was a gan (kindergarten) classroom. We had approximately 70 chairs set up and an Ark, borrowed from another school. The Israel Movement for Progressive Judaism (IMPJ) had lent out a Torah scroll and about 150 machzorim (HHD prayer books) to the congregation. Ayala had brought white table cloths and placed them on tables and shelves to give the place a more festive atmosphere. By the end of the transformation, the front of the room looked pretty good and very sanctuary-like (sans a menorah and those cushy chairs for bimah-sitters).
About 40 people came to the service which lasted two hours. We did most of the major prayers for Rosh Hashanah and had two shofar blowers. Ayala had requested that we do a full prostration during the great Aleinu. Normally people simply bow at the waist, but during this section, more traditional service leaders go all the way down to their knees and put their faces to the ground, similar to the Muslim position for prayer. So we did a full prostration, and thanks to my teacher, Cantor Jack Mendelson, we knew how to get up in one swift move.

There were a few surprises in the service. In the States there are English readings or translations that the congregation would read together as part of the service. But, obviously, the congregation here was Israeli so they would simply read the paragraph in the Hebrew. It is a fascinating thought. To go through a service understanding everything that is happening as well as you might understand an article in the paper or a chapter in your favorite book. I wonder what the reaction would be if they were to do a service completely in the vernacular in the states. Would some people feel it wasn’t Jewish enough? Would some say it felt Christian in a way? More on that later.

The other surprise was a beautiful one. During the Torah service, Ayala offered the first Torah blessing to those who had yet become bat/bar mitzvah, mostly cueing the women. At its core, a bat/bar mitzvah is not the ceremony with the Torah reading and the party, but simply the Torah blessing itself. So gave the women present a chance to become bat mitzvah. In Israel, a bat mitzvah is unheard of outside of a Progressive or Conservative context. At first, when Ayala called them up, no one came. She encouraged them to come and be part of the community by blessing the Torah reading and a few came up. I particularly remember one woman who looked like a dear in headlights. She looked so anxious about it, as though her grandfather might come back from the grave and reprimand her for such an action. This behavior is common among Israeli families. Some don’t want their daughters to become bat mitzvah because they’re simply afraid of what their orthodox parents/grandparents would say to them. The woman never came up and who knows how she feels about it now.

After the service, we cleaned up and tore down the sanctuary. There would be a group full of young children using that room soon and it wouldn’t be for observing the second day of the holiday (which we did not hold services for). I followed Ayala in my car to Avi’s sister’s house outside of Jerusalem. We had lunch there with his entire family. And what a family it was.

The following family story is common in many Israeli households. Avi’s mother was born in Greece and his father in Syria. I’m not sure how they met, but they have some amazing children. The family gathering was very similar to that of an American one. The grandfather brought out his new digital camera and insisted that one of the children document the entire event. All of the adults sat around and caught up with each other as the grandmother and some of the women worked on a marathon lunch. (In Middle Eastern culture, lunch is the main hot meal of the day. Dinner is usually smaller without hot food.) The children played and those in adolescence weren’t sure what to do with themselves. Play with the kids or talk with the adults. The family quickly accepted me and shot a few dozen questions at me. It was amazing to see the way they had treated Ayala, as she was soon to be a rabbi (a female rabbi in Israel is very new for this culture). They treated it very matter-of-factly as if she were studying to be a plumber. I guess it really is just another job when around family. I take comfort in that. The lunch was an amazing mix of Mediterranean foods with three kinds of meats, twelve kinds of salads and never-ending desserts, one of which was very similar to Linda Bicking’s famous Eclaire Cake that I love to make. Who knew that I would have such a taste of Lancaster, PA 5000 miles away from home? During dessert, the grandparents gave all of the children an envelope with money in it and a bag of candy. Contrary to what happens in the States, the major Jewish holiday meals (Rosh Hashanah, Sukkot, Pesach and Shavuot) are major gift times for families. Chanukkah silently passes with candles and latkes. No gifts. Purim is a different kind of gift giving as there isn’t a holiday meal. Truth be told, it’s more about alcohol and adults than children and candy. Being a part of this culture is fascinating. I only wish that Thanksgiving (my favorite holiday) were a part of it too. Ironically, many Americans who have moved here have given up Thanksgiving but manage to buy canned pumpkin and eat turkey at then end of November every year.

So Rosh Hashanah came and went and Yom Kippur arrived ten days later. During this time, there had been a statement published in Rosh Ha’ayin’s local magazine against the congregation. It outlined what was wrong with having a female rabbi. (we know rav and rabbanit but rabbah?) On our end, it was received as a sign. The Progressive movement had become strong enough that some more observant Jews were beginning to fear it. The statement was such an accomplishment that one of the leaders of the congregation framed it and gave it to the head of the Progressive movement.

Also during the ten days, Ayala and I had met and gone through our day-long services (at my apartment while waiting for the cable guy). We felt prepared and excited for the congregation’s first all-day set of Yom Kippur services. Between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur the Israel government takes the clocks back in order to make the fast seem shorter. So on the Sunday before Yom Kippur we gained an hour and moved from seven hours ahead of EDT to six. The funny thing about this is that it really changed things. The sun was setting at 6 PM now and at 12-noon, the sun was very far from being directly overhead. My host family, the Maliniaks, had picked me up in Jerusalem on Erev Yom Kippur. Noga, the matriarch of the family, was the unofficial president of the congregation and the person who had initiated the talks about starting a Progressive in Rosh Ha’ayin. Her family was another warm and caring family that I quickly felt a part of. We had dinner at 3:30 PM and began services at 5 PM. In Israel, Kol Nidrei is the biggest liturgical Jewish moment of the year. Even the most secular Israelis find themselves outside a synagogue just to hear the singing of Kol Nidrei. It was a bit intimidating knowing that I was the one to be singing that sacred melody. Our sanctuary’s 100 chairs were almost full by the time we had started the service. Five minutes into the service I was singing Kol Nidrei. By the time I was done, it seemed like the number of people had doubled. They estimated about 150 people during that service which was a spectacular turn out. It means that many people saw our form of Judaism as legit. They chose to participate and we have no idea how many simply stood outside the door and listened. One of the most beautiful sights was watching the sun set through the windows of the classroom. While I was singing Kol Nidrei, the sky went from blue to orange to purple to black. It was as if the sun was setting davka because of Kol Nidrei. It was an eerily holy moment.

After the service we walked home but not on the sidewalk but in the road. On Yom Kippur no one drives. Only emergency vehicles are allowed to drive. Everyone, even secular Israelis even Arabs stay off the roads. No one watches TV or uses the computer. No one plays instruments. It’s as though the entire country is observing Shabbat. This has led to a number of developments. Bicycles for children and adults have become quite popular in the last 10 years. There are huge organized bike rides on major highways because no one is driving. The only drawback of course is that you’re fasting while riding, but that doesn’t stop the masses. Bicycles have become the new “it” Rosh Hashanah present for many Israeli children. Many parents refrain from giving it to their children until right before Yom Kippur. Bicycle sales during Elul (the month before Rosh Hashanah) are triple that of other months. So on the walk home from the synagogue it was very much what I remember July fourth being as a child. Children were everywhere on bikes and many adults were socializing in the streets as they left synagogue. Teenagers gathered on street corners to hang out and enjoy the evening. As for us, we walked home and I played cards with Noga’s three children while she and her husband read.

Many people also observe traditional personal practices for Yom Kippur. This includes not showering, no makeup or deodorant, not wearing leather shoes (skin of a dead animal). It is the same as the initial period of mourning. I was surprised to see the same faces that were done up and cheery on Rosh Hashanah and were now groggy and bare. Men hadn’t shaved and some were even wearing the same clothes.

Waking up on Yom Kippur morning is always strange for me. This year, especially strange. What can one do? No food, no TV, no computer, just talking with others. It was so very quiet. No construction, no cars, no neighbor playing music. There was one occasional sound from outside. A nearby elementary school had left it’s bell system on, which played tunes to mark the beginning and end of periods. One of the tunes was Happy Birthday. It was good for a laugh. When we arrived at our sanctuary, we were the first to get there. I felt bad for Ayala and Avi, who had ridden their bikes 20 km, for over and hour to arrive from their home. Luckily the road was mostly flat with a small hill at the end of the trip. Ayala and I met and prepared ourselves for the service. The three-hour morning service was over before I knew it. We had done Yizkor at the end of the morning service (it’s usually at the end of the afternoon service) so that people could go home immediately afterwards. It was a smaller group, closer to the size we had for Rosh Hashanah.

We had a four-hour break between the morning and the afternoon services. I took a nap to keep my mind away from food. During this time I thought about all of my peers, teachers and future colleagues who were probably beginning their services just as I was ending my nap. It’s a great thought, thinking about everyone in my profession going through this day with me. We were all doing our part. We were all going through the same music, the same liturgy. And yes, it happens every Shabbat, but it’s different on Yom Kippur.

Our afternoon service began with the Torah service.. I was reading the Haftarah, the book of Jonah. Many people had shown up specifically for this. It was a treat to many Israelis to hear Jonah chanted on Yom Kippur. There were maybe 100 people there at the beginning. I was a bit anxious about this part of the day. I wasn’t nervous about chanting in front of them, but I was more worried about my Hebrew. Usually by Yom Kippur afternoon I am pretty light-headed. It’s not easy for me to concentrate. I was worried about my ability to read the Hebrew and the t’amim (accent symbols that told me which melody to sing) while in that state. And it’s not like one can practice that book very much because it’s so long. I had gone through it a couple of times before hand and felt ok with it because it was a story with simple Hebrew. But there were a few things I didn’t anticipate. One member had brought in Louisa, a mint-like herb. It’s a Sephardic tradition to use herbs to ease the fast. To my nose, it smelled like artificial mint-chocolate chip ice cream. It was potent and distracting. There were also many children with bike helmets on running in and out (past me) to their parents for this and that. Also distracting. BUT, in the end I held on and read the story pretty fluidly. And as we crept closer and closer to break-fast time, the sun began descending once again. By 5:30 the sun was down and we had only to wait a bit longer to fulfill our 25 hours of fasting. Families with young children were pouring into the sanctuary. We sang together the Havdalah tunes that ended our Day of Atonement. By that time there must have been 180 people. They had run out of machzorim and were distributing photocopies to those who were arriving. It was very exciting and intense.

I broke my fast at Noga’s house with her family after many goodbyes. We had an amazing dinner that had been prepared the day before. I was driven home to Jerusalem by Noga’s husband and their daughter Sharon. When I sat down on my couch and greeted my cats, I was filled with new memories and experiences. Experiences that I’ll never forget and will never be able to relive. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity to lead this congregation in prayer during our Days of Awe. I was thrilled to have used music that I learned in school, to take one step closer towards being a cantor, to be able to help establish a sacred tradition in a new congregation where people thirst for our flavor of Judaism.

Tomorrow I will be traveling to the Kharkov, Ukraine to share music with them during Simchat Torah. I am looking forward to an exciting trip and another boatload of memories and experiences.