Sukkot in Ukraine

This is a journal-record of my time spent in Ukraine. I was there from October 20th – October 26th. I flew in from Tel Aviv to Kiev. I spent time in Kiev, Kharkov and Poltava. I was there to help lead services for Sukkot and Simchat Torah.

Day 1 – 10/20/05 – Thursday
I caught a sheirut (airport-shuttle) at 2PM on the 20th. I was expecting the usual 10-seater van but instead they had sent a regular taxi. I was the first stop and in went my luggage (my guitar and a suitcase). There two more stops, a chareidi man (ultra-orthodox Jew) and a woman. After the woman got in, the chareidi joined me in the back. He initiated small talk, asked me where I was going. He asked why I was going to Kiev, I said for work. He asked what I do. I said I was learning to be a chazzan (cantor). He said, “a chazzan needs a kippah”. I said, “I don’t, ani Reformi.” He said, “why?” I said “I’m sorry?” to clarify. He said, “staam lama” (just why). I let it go at that and didn’t want to get into it. I have been known to defend my ways especially to those who disregard it simply for its name. But this time I wasn’t in the mood. But it did make me wonder if this was to be a foreshadow of things to come in Ukraine.

We arrived at the airport, I checked my bags (with a problem – the extended roller-handle for my suitcase wouldn’t retract), and had a bite to eat. My last schnitzel b’pitah for at least a week. I arrived to the gate with about an hour and a half to spare. I pulled out my guitar and was noodling away when a large group of Ukrainian men came to the gate. There were leaders holding number signs. The seemed to be a modern orthodox group as each man was wearing a knitted kippah. They all put their things down. There must have been at least 80 of them (as I counted 8 signs and 10 men in one of the groups). They pulled out bottles of what must have been an Israeli liquor and plastic cups. They were doing l’chayyim shots as their group’s leader spoke in a language that I knew I would soon grow accustomed to. This lasted for about a half hour and then the singing started. They were singing old Israeli songs, songs of the chalutzim (early pioneers of Israel). They sang as they stood in a circle with their arms around each other. They sang high songs and low songs, fast and slow songs. The astonishing thing is that this went on for the better part of an hour. It wasn’t until the El Al flight crew announced that we were to board soon that they disbanded and prepared for the flight. I have NEVER seen anything like that before a flight.

My neighbor on the plane didn’t speak a word of English or Hebrew and I was without any Russian. So we did our own thing on the three-hour flight. Towards the end of the flight, she attempted conversation with a series of gestures and vocal inflections, but it was late (10:30 PM) and I wasn’t much in the mood, especially after the group of men began singing in the back of the plane.

When we arrived, I immediately noticed how much colder it was. I had left Israel at 50 degrees at night and now it was well around freezing. I quickly claimed my suitcase (with the roller-handle still out) and went through customs. Two people were waiting with a sign that read, cantor Wolman. Having the title cantor in front of my name is something I’m used to now, even though I have yet to earn it. I was met by Tanya, who works I believe, for the JDC in Kiev and Linor, the executive director of the Progressive synagogue in Kiev. We went for an hour drive to a local hotel in Kiev. They helped me check in (the desk clerk looked JUST like me…my Dad’s family came from eastern Europe, who knows) and told me to be ready by 7 AM the next day.

Day 2 – 10/21/05 – Friday

I woke up around 6:15, but it felt like 5:15 because they were an hour ahead of Israel. (but only an hour ahead because Israel had begun Daylight Savings Time before them. We’re now back in the same time zone). The point is I was tired. I met Tanya and Linor downstairs at 7 AM. They drove me to the bus station and we arrived well before my 8 AM bus time. So we sat in the car, in the heat, and struggled to make small talk as all three of us were still half-asleep. The bus station was located downtown with lots of traffic, even for 7:30 AM. Linor and I were hungry so we went to the (oy) McDonalds next to the bus station. It was pretty packed and while we waited, I brushed up on my Cyrillic. Most of the words were simply transliterated from the English. It was a great way for me to reacquaint myself with the alphabet. I was not happy to be there, for I have not purchased anything at McDonalds in about 5 years. But this being a crazy scenario, I made an exception. The funniest part is that everyone there was getting the regular meals for breakfast. I looked at people eating hamburgers, french fries and soda this early and simply asked for a muffin and a coffee.
My bus left on time with me sitting in my *assigned* seat, which was near the front of the bus. They had stewardesses on the flight, which was a bit strange. They didn’t do much other than change the movies in the VCR and serve us one drink. It was to be a seven-hour ride southeast to Kharkov, the city in which I spent the majority of my time. It probably wasn’t that long a drive, but they stopped every 45 minutes so people could smoke. Yeah, people smoked EVERYWHERE in that country. Oy! I got so sick of it. And they had no regard for others who either chose not to smoke or were making vomitous faces by its presence. They played three movies during the ride. The first was Around the World in 80 Days with Jackie Chan, which wouldn’t have been SO bad but it was dubbed into Russian. I tried to read lips but it was a futile attempt. Then there were two Russian movies. One a cartoon and the other a little too risqué to be played on an intercity bus.

On all of the stops I got out and stretched my legs. We usually stopped at a rest stop of some sort in a city. Almost all of them had shops with food etc. My McMuffin was wearing off and I wasn’t sure how I was going to buy food. I had exchanged some dollars for Hryvnias (pronounced Griv-nuhs) but I didn’t know how to communicate with anyone. No one spoke English. After watching my neighbor on the bus bite into what looked like a croissant but was filled with ham, I was a bit anxious. So I approached the counter and pointed to a pretty basic looking doughnut-thing and asked how much. I got a few fingers and paid the woman. The hryvnia is worth a little less than the shekel (about 5-$1). I had no idea what I was paying for, but I got a receipt for it. I was told to get receipts for everything so I could be reimbursed by the movement. It was a very lonely feeling. I couldn’t talk to anyone even if I wanted to and I felt very much out of place. I walked around during the breaks simply to stretch my legs and observe. There were many women sitting on crates on the sidewalk near the stores selling potatoes, looking at me with piercing eyes and saying, “kartoshka? Kartoshka?” It was one of the few words I remembered from my previous visit to the FSU. They looked very much like the stereotypical babushka, grandmother, which you’d see in pictures of Eastern Europe. And they were everywhere. No wonder you saw them in so many pictures.

The view from the bus was very much something you’d see on your way from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh. There were endless fields and pockets of trees. There were a few hills, but for the most part it was flat. The most remarkable part was the changing of the leaves. We don’t quite have autumn in Israel and it was nice to see all of the yellows and oranges that I grew up with in Pennsylvania. In many places during this trip I was struck by the beauty of the leaves and how much it reminded me of home.

The view was one thing but the driving was quite another. In Ukraine people pass whenever the feel like it, including uphills, close calls and everything else that would make my Driver’s Ed teacher break out into a cold sweat. There were a few moments were I just looked at our driver as if he were crazy and looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. I learned to ignore it.

We arrived in Kharkov a few minutes late and the local Progressive rabbi, Misha Kapustin, was there to pick me up. We hopped in a cab and went to my hotel, the National. This hotel was very much an old Soviet hotel. It had oriental carpeting everywhere except in the rooms, which were pretty sub-standard. There were holes in the sheets, the TV was older than me, and I was instructed not to leave anything valuable around my room while I was away.

Misha, the rabbi, was a great guide and is a great friend. He is only a month and change older than me, which makes him the youngest Progressive rabbi in the world. He went to Leo Baeck Rabbinical College in London, so his English was great. He was born on the pacific coast but grew up in Cremia, a region of Ukraine on the coast of the Black Sea. Misha’s father is known as a leader of a 1200 member (not 1200 family) congregation where they have no rabbi. His father serves as one of the prayer-leaders and one of the community leaders as well. Misha and I talked and learned a great deal from one another. He has a great sense of humor, very similar to mine.

After a quick change into my suit, we were off to lead services. My hotel was a five-minute walk from the ‘office’ of the Kharkov progressive community. They had two rooms on the third floor in an office building. The elevators in this building were shut down after business hours, so we usually took the stairs. When we got to the office there were about seven people in the hallway smoking (oy) and Misha quickly took them in while talking very quickly in Russian. He told me to wait at the door and then ushered me into a dark room, which suddenly burst open with people yelling, ‘SURPRISE!’ It was a lovely feeling that they prepared it for me, but I wasn’t sure what the surprise was, but it was sweet just he same. They gave me a gift, the design of a magein-david made of coffee beans and white beans glued inside a picture frame. I’ll put it in my office when I get a job. The participants that came were all between the ages of 19-24. There were about 25 including, Misha, myself and Dima, the administrator. Dima and Misha are the only two full-time staff of the community with a part-time bookkeeper.

The office consisted of one outer-room where they held their services and other activities, and a smaller room used as an office and meeting area. They have many siddurim from the World Union for Progressive Judaism (WUPJ) and an ark donated by the Joint Distribution Committee (JDC). Their sefer Torah is a big one (usually the ones that are donated are the bigger ones that are difficult to lift) in excellent condition. Art covers the walls of this room with everything from decorated LPs to pictures of past events. They also have an extensive Judaica library filled with holy texts with translations into Russian. The outer room consists of a desk with a VERY old computer from the WUPJ and a number of cabinets and tables with supplies and records in them; a small but functional space.

Before the service we broke the ice with some songs and a medley of Hineih Mah Tov that rang true with everyone. It was great to be there together. The service was nice and we celebrated Sukkot along with Shabbat. The music these congregations are singing is very much the contemporary folk music that has been popular with youth in the US. Debbie Friedman and Jeff Klepper are the main composers they asked for in the service, but at one point they asked me to play L’takein by Dan Nichols and I was impressed that it had made it this far across the ocean. At the end I presented some gifts that I had brought from Israel and the US. Upon learning of my trip I began collecting donations from Transcontinental Music, Tara Music Publications and Sounds Write as Misha informed me that music was what they desperately needed. They were so thankful for these things, but especially for some of the trinkets I picked up for them. Simple Israeli stickers and games. The biggest draw were keychains with a magein david attached to each one. It was great to see them striving to show their Jewish Identity. The whole experience reminded me of Hillel. After all, Misha and I weren’t too much older than everyone there. This congregation had been striving as a youth-club more than anything and Misha mentioned that his number one goal is to attract both an older and a younger audience, but it is difficult when there are 12 students and a handful of adults.

After services, everyone left. Misha and I went to dinner at a local restaurant. They had a menu in English and I had my first Russian salad. Their salads usually consist of a meat, a vegetable and mayonnaise. I had the beef, mushroom salad. I slowly discovered throughout the week that the Ukrainian people have a great love for mayonnaise that I just don’t understand. I also had some chicken soup with cream. I thought I would be getting a creamy-soup but it was chicken soup with a dollop of yogurt in it. I learned to ask exactly what I was getting before ordering it. For the main course, I had chicken shashlik, which is similar to the chicken shishlik one can get in the Middle East. But as shishlik is cooked on skewers and is quite juicy, shashlik had bones on it and was dry. Oy. Eating was an adventure, not to mention that our organizer, Rabbi David “Gingy” Wilfond had told us not to eat any raw fruits or veggies while there. So it was challenging but I was enjoying the change.

Over dinner, Misha and I talked about a great deal. One thing that I found fascinating was the struggle between ChaBaD (chareidim) and Progressive Jews in the FSU. ChaBaD is very wealthy and sends sh’lichim (emissaries) all over the FSU to help bring the Jews back to halachah and traditional Jewish practice. Progressive Judaism tries to meet people where they are and helps them to understand Judaism one step at a time. A good metaphor would be to say that ChaBaD tries to transplant their Judaism into the communities and is often rejected whereas Progressive Judaism cultivates the Jewish community from within. Misha told me that the big Jewish holidays in the FSU are Rosh Hashanah and Pesach. He told me that in his hometown they have a huge second night seder every year and that people have to buy tickets weeks in advance. The seder is usually packed. One year, ChaBaD bought radio time and broadcasted commercials for a free first night seder with lots of food. Just show up no ticket’s needed! Misha’s father went with his family. They had rented the ballroom in the nicest hotel in town. They had flown in kosher food from Israel and everything looked amazing. They must have had food for 300 people. But only five people showed up. There were 12 chareidim in for the holiday from Jerusalem and only five locals. When they asked Misha’s father why no one showed up, he said that they hadn’t consulted with the leaders of the community on how to communicate with the Jews that lived there. He knew because he was one of the leaders of the community. The ChaBaDnikim took all of that food and threw it away they felt so ashamed. They would rather throw it away than give it to hungry people simply because they didn’t care to get to know the community. They just wanted to show people the ‘right way’ of celebrating the holiday. From what I’ve been told, this story isn’t uncommon.

I asked Misha how he pays for everything if they can’t charge dues. He said that when more families join the synagogue he’ll ask them to pay 12 hryvnia per year for students and 36 hryvnia per year for families. That’s about $8 per year for a family. They get most of their money from the WUPJ and JDC. JDC, it seems, could be giving a great deal more. They are politically pressured and give millions and millions to ChaBaD while only $1 million to the Progressive congregations in the entire FSU. The numbers don’t quite add up.

Misha walked me to my hotel and said goodnight. I was struck by how many goons lurked around my hotel at night. I don’t mean big guys that look mean, I mean these guys look like MAFIA goons out of a 20’s prohibition flick. It wasn’t a fun place to be. I went straight to my room and went to bed.

Day 3 10/22/05 – Saturday

I woke up and went to shower only to find that my shower didn’t have a hanger for the hose. So I scrubbed with one hand while holding the showerhead in the other. Breakfast at the hotel was complementary…if you got the right stuff. Arriving at the restaurant, I sat at a set place. The waitress brought out a hot breakfast for me without asking and I was to eat that or pay for something else. This was cheese blintz day! Woo hoo! I love blintzes. They tasted just like Mama used to make. I had to pay for a second cup of tea and a bottle of water. No biggie.

While eating, I watched the TV that was on playing Russian music videos. One video stood out just because they had inserted English words to seem more hip/western. Words like: fresh, bad, groove, hit me. It was like 80’s pop jargon. There were also commercials for American products, like the Gilette M3 razor. I was shocked how much western culture had affected this place. It was a bit comforting for me, but I wasn’t in this place to be reminded of home. I was here to discover new places and new senses. It was disappointing to so see so much influence.

We spent the day at the ‘office’. We had the community’s first Shabbat Morning service. Misha didn’t expect many people to show up, mostly because Saturday is a weekday there(!) and it was the first Shabbat Morning service they’d ever done. I was shocked to hear that one. The only day off there is Sunday, much like Shabbat is in Israel, but it’s still hard to believe. It makes being Jewish a bit harder when you’re going to services on a school day. I was able to send an email to family saying that I’d arrived alright, but just barely as the computer was a bit slow and didn’t like gmail.

Seven people showed up for the service, all students. They sang a few new tunes, which I hadn’t heard before. One for Birchot Hashachar, Mi Chamocha and Yih’yu L’ratzon. They also had a nice sign-language shtick for the Yemenite tune for Psalm 150. Now THAT’s international Judaism: A bunch of Ukrainian’s doing a dance to a Yemenite tune that an American was playing for them. After the service, I recorded the new tunes on my iPod and the dance on my camera’s movie function (so much fun). They began doing arts and crafts projects (little did I know they were going to give them all to me and then I’d forget them in the office…doh!). After that they wanted to dance. They knew a couple of Israeli dances and I taught a few more (Zemer Atik, Od Lo Ahavti Dai and Zodiac). A couple of the students were interested in the music books I had brought and asked if I had any Yiddish. One guy in particular kept looking for Yiddish but I didn’t have any. There is a real thirst for Yiddishkeit there. They remember their grandparents speaking it but only as an echo from when they were very young. It’s almost like a dream-world for them. We then sang a bit and I taught some songs. We had a very nice moment as we sang the harmonies together for Livrachah (the one in Shireinu) and we would be singing it later for Sh’mini Atzeret.

After a long day, we did havdalah and left. Misha and I walked back to my hotel to drop off the lulav and my service stuff. Outside the hotel, a chareidi man passing us saw that Misha was holding a lulav and said to him in Russian, “If you know what that is, you know you shouldn’t be touching it.” Misha replied, “I’m a rabbi, I know exactly what to do with it.” The man retorted, “You’re not a rabbi, you’re a Dog’s fart.” It took me by surprise because not many chareidim would do that in Israel. They would ignore it because there were so many different kinds of Jews here. But in Ukraine I guess it sticks out a bit more.
We went to lunch at a cafeteria-style place. I had a bowl of borsch, some blintzes and what might have been chicken schnitzel. The funny part was that the food was served from what looked like hot plates like in a school cafeteria. But there was a microwave in the seating area. Misha told me that the food usually isn’t hot by 4 PM to save money. So I nuked my food a little too long just in case. My days working at Boston Market had trained me to keep food at a certain temperature or else it could be bad…Ah yes, I almost forgot. I had to pay 40 kopicks (yes, rhymes with toepicks) for each packet of ketchup for my fries. Very sad. That’s like paying a nickel for ketchup.

Afterwards, Misha and I took the subway to the center of town, where he lives. The subway costs half a hryvnia per ride. That’s about 10 cents per ride. Wow. NY, you can take your $2 and shove it. The subway was very clean. They have 3 lines that each connect in some way. They are very precise about the timing of the subway. People usually know when the next train will come based on the day and time etc. So there’s a timer that lets you know how long ago the last train left. Sounds great. In NY we’d see 14 minutes…19 minutes…etc.
Downtown was great! The largest open town square in Europe is located in Kharkov. The Orange revolution that just took place had huge demonstrations there. But on this night, there was a carnival. There were all kinds of upside down rides that looked insane! I would have gone on if I were in the states. There was a little voice inside my head reminding me where I was. It was a great sight though. And right beyond the carnival was a huge statue of Lenin. It’s funny how people took down the Stalin statues but left Lenin and Marx up. The echoes of communism are still quite clear in the architecture and the statues that are about.
We took a nice long walk back to the hotel and had dinner. I had the infamous chicken Kiev. It wasn’t so great. It’s just breaded chicken in a ball with butter. Not a winner. After that, we decided to check out the casino inside the hotel. Going in there was a bouncer that asked where we were going. We said, Casino. There were 4 tables for blackjack and poker, and a roulette table. We sat down at an empty blackjack table and a new dealer came out. We had a nice time. Misha didn’t want to gamble as he doesn’t like it. He enjoyed learning the game though. One thing that I learned was that in their culture, if you whistle, it means that you are an oblivious person who will lose money very soon. How sad that a whole mode of expression is taboo in a culture. After playing for about an hour and losing a bit of money, we went to the bar. It was a dark room with electric-blue walls. It wasn’t until after about half an hour that I noticed there was a stripper-pole at one end. No one was there now but it just made the place feel that much more shady. Misha left and I went to bed around 12:30 AM.

Day 4 10/23/05 – Sunday
Today Misha and I met early to go to the big market in Kharkov. I’m not talking big market, I’m talking biggest market in Europe. This place puts Walmart to shame. It’s a collection of outdoor/covered markets. If you’ve been to the shuk in Jerusalem, imagine a market about 15 times the size. You could fit about 20 Walmarts in that space. They have ANYTHING you could ever want. I ended up buying some fun gifts and a few things for myself. I wanted to buy a hat for Rachael, but all the nice ones were fur! Rabbit fur! I couldn’t believe how much there was too. It was kind of funny as I freaked out about every single one and Misha just laughed and said that this was the culture there. I walked through mazes of ‘tchatchkes’ ranging from alarm clocks to toys to toiletry kits to hats to leather coats to home improvement stuff to clothing to shoes to sports equipment (lots of hockey stuff) etc. There was no end! I even bought a map to the place it’s so big. Haha. It was a lot of fun. They even had schwarma there but Misha said it doesn’t even come close to the stuff in Israel. After a whirlwind of two hours, we went back to my hotel, I changed, and we took a cab to the bus station. We were to spend the rest of the day in a town called Poltava, two hours west of Kharkov, in order to lead Sukkot services there. On the way there, I noticed that every time the cab passed an Eastern-Orthodox church, our driver did the whole Catholic cross-thing. Not meaning to belittle it, but it reminded me of this game when I was I kid, I would hold my breath every time I passed a cemetery. One time we came to a red light next to a cemetery. The game stopped.

Misha had picked up our tickets the day before. I was amazed to look around and see 30-40 year old buses still in use. Some of them required a crow-bar in order to open up the cargo area. It was something out of the history books. Thankfully, our bus was a modern one. The bus left around 12:30. I had packed a few snacks consisting of Combos (my only bag from the states! It’s my favorite snack.) and a couple of duty-free twix bars. This bus had the same service the other one did. We were given snacks and a drink by the stewardesses. They played one movie, the Vin Diesel flick, The Pacifier. It was dubbed in Russian and most people seemed to enjoy it. I didn’t watch it, the same way I didn’t watch it when it played on the plane to Italy we took in August. During the ride, I noticed many of the same multi-colored houses that I’d seen in Russia three years ago. It was interesting to notice how many there were and how vivid my memory was.

When we arrived in Poltava, we were met by Alla, one of the active students. Like in Kharkov, the congregation in Poltava was mostly youth oriented. They had one staff member and Misha as the visiting rabbi. Alla was studying in the University. One of the things she was studying was Hebrew and her English wasn’t very good. So, we only talked in Hebrew. And then it hit me. There were three of us in our group with three languages, not having one language in common. I spoke Eng-Heb, Misha spoke Rus-Eng and Alla spoke Rus-Heb. So no matter what one of us said in any language, we always had to translate it for someone else. It was a great feeling to speak with Alla as we both met on the common ground of our second language. I felt sad not being able to talk to people in their language and always having them strive to talk with me in mine. So it was a nice change. At the bus station we looked up the times for the later buses and as we were discussing it, Alla looked at me and said, “ein lanu z’man l’kachat et ha’autobus hazeh.” And my brain shot up and I sang, “ein (yeish) lanu z’man” and we all continued together, “mitachat lashamaaaaaaayim”. It was an amazing feeling for the Jewish diaspora. There we were, a Russian a Ukrainian and an American all jumping into the same Israeli song spontaneously.

From there we walked around Poltava for a bit. It was a beautiful city. We were mostly walking downtown. We grabbed some lunch in a mall cafeteria. Again it was greasy food…but it was hot. I had been very cold all of these days and anytime a warm meal came my way, it was welcomed, no matter what it was.

At that time, my biggest culture shock hit me. I was getting very tired of the language barrier and the food and the inability to eat any raw fruits and veggies. I had to ask several times what certain food items were and it was very tiring. After eating, I needed to go to the bathroom but the only bathroom in that mall was for staff only. What a crazy concept.
We ended up walking past a protest of some kind where the former Ukrainian Prime Minister was speaking (with minimal security). I wanted to get a picture with the former PM but Misha said it was a bad idea for a number of reasons. Alla told us about the town as we walked around. It was the hometown of Jewish storyteller Shalom Aleichem. They had a statue of Shalom Aleichem and a street named after him but they were on the other side of town so we didn’t go. She also showed us the town’s seal, which had yellow six-pointed stars on them…an interesting parallel? We saw what was the town’s synagogue. It wasn’t decorated on the outside and we couldn’t go inside. Alla said it was open to ChaBaD for services because they bribed the city council. Then we walked to a lookout point in a park that was lovely. There was a church on the middle of a park with a walkway on the outskirts overlooking a valley below. The ridge rose up again about 100 meters away from us. We had lots of fun walking around and taking pictures etc. Being a tourist is fun when I’m in the mood for it. We went to the church and I used a public bathroom there but I had to pay 50 kupiks (their cents) and it was pretty gross. The lady there had to sit down there and I don’t know how she could stand the smell.

So around 5 we walked to the Poltava World Union ‘office’. And get this; it was on the fifth floor of a building with a strip club on the first. This wouldn’t have bothered me so much, but there was a poster of a topless woman staring at the door with the words “nothing for free” in Russian. They saw that every time they went to the synagogue. Wow. Crazy. The office was nice, similar to the Kharkov one. It wreaked of cigarettes, one thing that I have conveniently placed out of my memory, but it was revolting.

Misha and I planned the service. Even though it was Sunday, we still used Shabbat nusach and did the Hallel service for Sukkot. For them, this was the only time they would see the rabbi or have any Sukkot celebration. In a square 12’ X 12’ room, they had set up a number of fishing lines across the ceiling with paintings of schach (the stuff we hang from a sukkah). It was a great adaptation and when we did the service it felt pretty real. We did some of the same getting-to-know-you games that we did in Kharkov when I had first arrived. It was a nice group, about 18 young people showed up ranging from a 10-year-old girl to a few 20 somethings. As it ends up, Alla had a great voice and sang a couple of the tunes that I hadn’t heard before. And as people were singing along, I was hit with a serious question. As we sing tunes and lead congregations, what is more important-tunes that people know or singing the correct traditional motifs. I’m speaking mostly in terms of the first three blessings of the Amidah. I have been so trained at HUC to sing the correct motifs for the times that it was very hard for me to sing Shabbat nusach on a weekday when a group was getting their only service in weeks from a rabbi and what might be years from a cantor. I know this is an extreme case but I need to think more about applying this to everyday uses in a synagogue setting. I think that over time we could introduce different nuscha’ot to a congregation, if there is a consistent group, but otherwise will they learn it? And if they don’t, will it turn them off to the worship experience? Will the appreciate it or reject it? This was all going through my head during the service.

At the end of the service, I gave some of the gifts that I’d brought from Israel to the community. They loved the Hebrew stickers and the toys, but especially the chocolate. I had brought Israeli chocolate that has pop-rocks in the middle. It was a great treat to be able to share with them and to watch their expressions as they discovered what it was doing in their mouths.

After the service, I taught some Israeli-dancing. They hadn’t ever done it and were so excited that they just wanted to keep dancing! It was an incredible feeling but time was low and we had other things to do. I ended up teaching Zemer Atik, Mayim and Zodiac. Then I showed them pictures of my family that I’d printed out. We’d been advised to bring them as many people there were curious about our lives in the US.

I had found time with Alla to record music. She had a GREAT voice and knew many tunes that I didn’t. And then an idea hit me: What if I could record many tunes and bring them back. I could make a CD, sell it, and give the proceeds to these communities that I’d visited. I ended up recording a number of tunes from Alla and I was grateful. She was sweet to do it and a great sport.

On my way out, I saw one of the mugs people were drinking out of. It was the same as a mug I have at home. I thought it was such a coincidence that I asked a student to hold it as I took a picture. I then realized that it isn’t that big of a coincidence, both mugs probably came from China. Hehe.

Misha and I couldn’t catch the last bus to Kharkov but we ended up getting a cab and it was CHEAPER! I couldn’t believe it. Misha said that the inter-city cabs can be much cheaper than the city cabs. We both nodded off to sleep to the sound of old underground anti-communist music of the 60’s and 70’s. That kind of music is very popular now but most listened to it during communist times in secret.

We got back around 11:30 and went straight to bed. It had been a long day.

Day 5 – 10/24/05 – Monday

Today was Simchat Torah. At least it was at night. We met up at 10 AM (sleeping in was GREAT!) and took a cab to the Holocaust memorial in Kkarkov. Misha, the community’s administrator, came too. In the cab, Misha and I discovered that we’d both been at the WUPJ conference in Jerusalem in my first year and he might have been at the Shabbat Morning service at which I sang.

The Kharkov Sho’ah (Holocaust) memorial was built in the late 1980’s. During the Sho’ah, the Germans took Kiev (7 hours away) and many fled to Kharkov. When the news arrived of the mass killings in Kiev, many left Kharkov also. But the elderly and young families couldn’t flee so they stayed and hoped that it wouldn’t happen to them. The Nazi’s called the Jews to gather in the center of town a while after they’d arrived. They marched them to the edge of town (it was a 30-minute cab ride for us, so imagine how long it would take to march) to a place with many hills. The Nazis picked this place because it had many natural ditches. People were told to dig and were killed in groups of 150-200 in huge mass graves. Up to 30,000 Jews were killed in that place.

The memorial was built to look like a synagogue. A menorah is on the road to designate the place. Further down the road is the main memorial. It is a tall, white, probably 50-foot structure in a thin arch. Inside the arch is a set of tablets that resembles the 10 commandments. On the right tablet, the same commandment is written in Hebrew five times, lo tirtzach, don’t murder. On the left tablet the same phrase is written in 5 other languages. Misha pointed them out to me – 5 Slavic languages, I remember Russian was one of them and Czech was another, and other the other side was the same Hebrew with Spanish, English, French, Ukrainian and German. It was interesting that they chose to put German on there and that it was put on there at the bottom of the tablet. One could interpret the meaning of that for hours.

Inside the memorial itself, there was a large room with lists of names on the walls, very similar to many other memorials. Apparently the Germans had recorded the names of everyone they had killed there, so the exact names were known. How ironic that we are grateful for their organization to keep the memories of their victims alive. There was a large stone well-like structure in the middle of the room. Within there were many small lights and mirrors. It was to resemble the well of the souls and to appear bottomless. It was beautiful. Very much like the children’s memorial at Yad Vashem.

Outside, there were paths that went around to the different mass graves. I asked if we could walk around and Dima said that he didn’t want to. Apparently the ground there was made of clay and sometimes rain had washed too much earth away and bones could be seen. It was something we didn’t want to encounter. Some years ago, a few of the sites had been recovered but it was still an occurrence there. There was another memorial built there in the 1950’s but it was very simple. Misha was the first rabbi to visit the site and was asked by the caretaker to reaffirm the mezuzah on the building. Afterwards we left.

Hearts that are heavy still can’t get in the way of stomachs that are empty. So we ate lunch downtown. During lunch I asked Dima about the congregation (since it was Misha’s first year). He said that he started the community 3 years ago. But since Kharkov is such a college-town, students are mostly the populus and the synagogue is mostly filled with students. Misha’s number one goal is to begin attracting older people with programming, learning and events. But since the fall of the iron curtain, there are several Jewish organizations trying to get people’s time and many FSU Jews feel overwhelmed and end up doing nothing.
At one point during lunch, Misha got up to take a phone call. And this left Dima and I to just sit and stare at each other. It was a fun moment but then Dima cut it and got his phone out.
The lunch was decent, I was pretty hungry. I ordered a single-pizza and a chicken cutlet over rice, not knowing what would fit my appetite. And it was all pretty cheap so I didn’t see any trouble in ordering that much. My food ended up coming way before the others’ and I ate because it was getting cold, but I’m talking 15-20 mintues before their food came out. It was crazy. They had gotten salads of tongue and mushrooms. I tried it and it was pretty tasty. I wanted a glass of wine and Misha told me right away that they don’t have dry red wines like they do in the west. They focus on sweet wines. He knew them pretty well from living a few years in London. I settled on one but it wasn’t so great. The restaurant was in the big square in the middle of town. Outside our window we could see the statue of Lenin. A very Russian experience.

After lunch we walked around a bit. In a park we saw a statue of a great Ukrainian poet. Misha commented that “even the best Ukrainian poet wasn’t even close to a good Russian poet.” Apparently every country is very proud of their literary greats.

We ended up also seeing the Kharkov Synagogue. It was a synagogue and a museum. It was built in the 19th century to be an orthodox Ashkenazi synagogue, the second biggest in Europe, next to one in Budapest. It now belonged to ChaBaD, who is expanding and repairing the building. Apparently, after the fall of the USSR, it was GIVEN to a progressive community. But there was a scandal and they lost it about 10 years ago. And then the community folded. It was a lovely building with some interesting Hebrew quotes on the walls, on the ceiling is Ani Ma’amin, a very religious phrase stating, “I believe in the coming of the messiah etc.”
We then walked back to the hotel, I changed and we went to lead Simchat Torah services. The service was similar the other services we’d led in Kharkov. We did the seven hakafot with the Torah and had a nice time, but they didn’t really understand what it is to dance with the Torah and rejoice etc. They just walked in a circle etc. no biggie, it reminded me a lot of American Jewish weddings where there aren’t a lot of dancing Jews.

Day 6 – 10/25/05 – Tuesday

I woke up to the sound of Misha knocking on my door. My alarm didn’t go off! It was a good thing I had packed the night before. We were to leave at 6 AM for a 7 AM train that would take me to Kiev in 6 hours (an hour shorter than the bus, probably because there weren’t any cigarette stops). We took a cab to the train station, he saw me onto the train and we said our goodbyes. It was great working with him and we had some good times. More on that later. We had gotten a first glass ticket because it was only $3 more than the coach class ticket. So I got into my 3-seater car, took my middle seat and met my neighbors. One was an intellectual who spoke very good English but was enjoying his book. The other was an obnoxious guy with a heavy accent who talked loudly on his cell phone most of the trip. When he wasn’t doing that he was chewing gum like the whole train could hear him. Our car had a TV in it. They played the Tim Burton version of Planet of the Apes. It was dubbed like all other movies on the trip. They then played a live comedy video. Apparently each university has a comedy club. They do skits and musical numbers. They compete against other teams for prizes etc. And when people graduate from University, they can join the city’s team and then cities compete. Much like sports in the States. This kind of thing was well received nationally and was televised. It would be a GREAT program in the states. It would also give a lot of opportunities to lesser-known actors etc.

When I arrived in Kiev, I was met by Alexi, a NeTzeR youth from the Kiev community. His English was pretty good and he took me around. Our first stop was the rabbi’s condo. Rabbi Alex Dukhovny was ordained about five years ago (I think) at Leo Baeck Rabbinical College in London. He is the only other Progressive rabbi in the Ukraine, next to Misha. He also went He had an AMAZING apartment, like one you see in those trading spaces programs on TV. He said that all the apartments in his building are like that. He served us an AMAZING lunch with Israeli salad, cheese and Spanish sun dried tomatoes, and some homemade poppy-seed blintzes. What a lunch! We talked about my trip etc and my idea to sell the CD of recordings. I had asked if we could call the ‘cantor’ in Kiev (their musical leader), who writes songs and ask him to come over to play?

Alexi and I then walked to Babi Yar, the holocaust memorial in Kiev. We were probably walking the very steps that the Nazi’s had taken the victims before they were killed. There was a Jewish memorial and also a Christian one. They hadn’t just killed Jews at that place. But apparently they had taken the children to another place to be killed. There was a beautiful statue built there as a memorial with 2 children there, one reaching out and one sitting. There was also a clown with its head half-off. Just a beautiful and sad monument.
We then went to the center of the city to see other sites. It was a nice walk. On the way, the rabbi called and said that the ‘cantor’ would come and play so that I could record him. When we got back to the apartment, my friend and the trip’s advisor, Rabbi David “Gingy” Wilfond was there. It was great to see him. He had just arrived in Kiev from Odessa. We talked a bit and then Misha, the ‘cantor’ had arrived. He played a few songs on my guitar and I was deeply impressed. This guy’s music will be big and hopefully he’ll grow and mature. He’s in college now as well as the community’s musical leader. But our time was over and I had to go to the airport. I thanked them all and said goodbye to my new friends.
The airport experience was pretty standard. I was grateful to Alexi for riding an hour with me there. I got in, got on the plane and fell asleep. I was exhausted from the long day.
Rachael was waiting for me at the airport in Israel. She had gotten back from a six-week trip to the states and it was…umm…good to see her.

Upon reflection, almost two weeks later, it was an amazing trip! Gingy said that we (Shayna, Devorah and I) were maybe the first (student) cantors to sing in Ukraine (Devorah and I ) and Bellarussia (Shayna) during the chagim since before the Holocaust! That’s an incredible feeling! I am so grateful for the trip. For the good and the bad. I learned a great deal. Gingy sent us an email a few days ago saying that after looking at the budget, they want to send us again for Purim!!! What an exciting prospect! I owe the World Union a great deal of gratitude for sending me. Misha and I began a life-long friendship. We have a great deal in common. I can’t wait for the next trip to bring more joy and more song to the Jews of the Former Soviet Union.

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.