Members of the Jewish community of Sochi and Israeli delegates to the Olympics held a memorial for the 11 Israelis killed by terrorists in Munich at the Summer Games in 1972. [from a report in The Forward, 2/10/2014]
Jews live in lots of interesting places. The largest Jewish community in the world is the one in the State of Israel, and there are large communities in Los Angeles and New York City. But there are also small communities all over the world, little groups like the one in Sochi, Russia.
Wherever Jews live we feel a connection to other Jews everywhere and in every age. Thus the Jews of Sochi feel a connection to 11 Olympic athletes who were murdered in Munich 42 years ago. This is what Klal Yisrael means: “All of Israel.” Klal Yisrael includes both the yeshiva boys and the Women of the Wall in Jerusalem, the intermarried Jews and Chabadniks in Los Angeles, the totally secular and the totally Satmar in New York. It includes the Jews of Singapore and Nashville and Auckland, the Jews of Buenos Aires and, yes, Sochi.
One of the most common searches that brings people to this blog is some version of “what to wear:” what to wear to a bar mitzvah, what to wear to an Orthodox service, what to wear to a Jewish funeral, what to wear to a bris. That’s a difficult question to answer, given that a reader might be anywhere and standards differ depending on where you live. I’m in California, where dress is extremely casual. I grew up in the American South East, where dress tends to be more formal. I’ve lived in Israel, where I have rarely seen a man wearing a tie at any event, no matter how formal, and … well, you get the idea. Given the reach of the Internet, the question is unanswerable as asked.
However, I can offer you some guidelines:
1. What do people wear to church where you live? That is a reasonable guide for most synagogues other than Orthodox synagogues.
2. Neither men nor women will go wrong covering their heads in a synagogue, but it will not be required in most Reform synagogues. Conservative synagogues are likely to require it for men and recommend it for women. When in doubt, ask ahead or, if you get there and realize everyone else has their head covered, ask an usher for help. Synagogues where head covering is the norm will almost always have some for guests to borrow. At bar and bat mitzvah services, kippot [yarmulkes or skull caps] are often given away as souvenirs with the name of the bar mitzvah and the date inscribed inside.
3. For an event at an Orthodox synagogue, unless you have specific info to the contrary, men and women both should cover all bare skin: no shorts, no short skirts, no tight clothing, either. Generally speaking, when I attend services or events at an Orthodox shul, I wear a knee-length or longer skirt with a top or jacket that covers elbows and collarbones. Men should cover their heads with a kippah (usually there is a supply of them at the door) and it’s a safe bet for women to wear a hat. Yes, you will look like a visitor but that’s fine, you will look like a visitor who cares about the sensibilities of the community.
4. Funerals are uniformly the most solemn occasions in any location. Women: dress soberly,with absolutely no “bling” and very little skin on display. Black is always a safe choice. If you are going to the cemetery, wear sensible shoes even if they look clunky with your outfit; cemetery grass is thick and lush. If all your outfits are lowcut or sleeveless, wear a shawl or jacket to cover up. Men: if you have a suit and tie, wear it. If you don’t, come as close as you can.
5. For Bar and Bat Mitzvah services, look at the invitation. If it specifies dress, believe them. If your daughter is insisting that everyone else is wearing miniskirts and strapless bustiers to the bat mitzvah service, phone either the synagogue office or the mother of the bar mitzvah (WELL ahead of the big day) and ask about dress codes. The same applies if your son is adamant about jeans and a tee shirt. These services are solemn events, and going to them dressed like you’re going to a disco is disrespectful to the congregation and potentially an embarrassment to the family.
The party afterwards may be a whole different matter, with a separate dress code. Again, if you have questions, call the family well ahead of time.
6. Your clothing need not be expensive to be appropriate for any synagogue event. Member families at any synagogue are like most families in your community: they come from all income brackets. The main thing is to be clean, tidy, and modest in your dress.
I’d like to welcome another guest blogger to Coffee Shop Rabbi. Laurie Rappeport grew up in Detroit Michigan and made aliyah in 1983. She lives in Safed, a northern Israeli city known as the “City of Kabbalah.” Laurie worked in the Safed Tourist Information Center for 13 years and continues to remain active in the city’s tourism. She teaches about Israel and Judaism online to American Hebrew School students.
The evolution of the American Jewish community from the 17th century till today can be followed at the Lowell Milken Archives where the development of American Jewry is documented in a wide-ranging series musical and liturgical recordings.
Up until the mid-1800s the majority of America’s Jewish community was Sephardic. These were Jews whose families originally came from Spain and Portugal. They made their way to the New World via Holland. The first American synagogues, including Sherith Israel in New York, the Touro synagogue in Newport Rhode Island and the Kahal Kadosh Beth Elohim synagogue of Charleston South Carolina followed Sephardic liturgy and musical traditions. These synagogues were given names with deep messianic and kabbalistic meanings that reflected the prevalent belief that the upheaval in the Jewish world that had been brought about by the Inquisition and expulsions heralded the coming of the Messiah.The name of the first synagogue in Philadelphia, Mikve Yisrael, was taken from the name of Dutch Rabbi Ben Israel’s book of Kabbalah which reminded the Jews of Yirmiyahu’s promise “O Hope of Mikveh Israel, it’s deliverer in the time of trouble.” Sherith Israel — the remnants of Israel — was named for the prophet Micah’s prophecy “I will bring together the remnant of Shearith Israel.” The formal name of the Touro synagogue is Yeshuat Yisrael which is based on the verse of psalms “the deliverance of Yeshuat Yisrael might come from Zion when the Lord restores the fortunes of His people Jacob will exult and Israel will rejoice.”
Several years ago researcher Edward Kritzler published an account of 16th century Jews who fled the Inquisition of their native lands to South America. The book, Jewish Pirates of the Caribbean: How a Generation of Swashbuckling Jews Carved Out an Empire in the New World in Their Quest for Treasure, Religious Freedom–and Revenge chronicles the riveting history of Sephardic Jews who settled in South America. When the Spanish and Portuguese governments brought the Inquisition to the New World they were forced to flee to areas which were controlled by the Dutch Republic and English crown. Many of these Jews settled in the Caribbean where they turned to piracy, both for economic reasons and as a strategy that allowed them to take revenge on the Spanish fleet.
Portuguese Jews who had managed to flee Portugal’s Inquisition established new communities in Holland. The Dutch Jewish leadership encouraged these people to immigrate to the New World and many of them did so, sailing to Brazil where, until 1654, Jews enjoyed the right to live and worship freely. In that year Portugal wrested control of the country from Holland and the Inquisition began to forcibly convert the Jews to Christianity. A group of 23 Jews fled and sailed from Recife, Brazil to New York where, over governor Peter Stuyvesant’s objections, were allowed to stay. They were soon joined by other Dutch Jews and in 1729 they established America’s first synagogue, Sherith Israel, which continues to serve the Sephardic Jewish community of New York.
By the mid-1800s German Jewish immigrants formed the majority of the American Jewish community. During this time the Reform Movement began to strengthen in America and many of the old Sepharadi synagogues adopted German and Reform liturgy and customs. The Kahal Kadosh Beth Elohim synagogue of Charleston was the first synagogue to make this change and its classical Reform traditions continue till today.
By the late 1800s the immigration of the Eastern European Jews began. Between 1882 and 1924 it’s estimated that 2 million Jews immigrated to the United States from Eastern Europe. Most of these immigrants began to acculturate to their new home and to American society while maintaining many of their original prayer customs and synagogue liturgy. This era also saw the expansion of hazzanut — cantorial singing — and even those Jews who were no longer strictly observant loved the Ashkanazi hazzanut. Hazzanut that developed during these years continues to influence cantors of all streams of Judaism till today.
To learn more about the development of American Jewish music, visit the Lowell Milken Archives website. There you will find a treasury of musical recordings of all kinds.
So, you’ve decided to dive in to Jewish life and find yourself a congregation. You find one not too far from home, and it looks like it might be a fit. Or maybe you’ve found the only synagogue in 100 miles, and whether it’s a fit or not, that’s what you’ve got. A synagogue community over about 150 people is often a community of communities: an umbrella under which several different groups get together for smaller things, and then all come together for big stuff like High Holiday services. If you only go to the big stuff, you’ll never get to know anyone. These tips can help you integrate into your own synagogue community (and it’s never too late to try them.)
ATTEND.The single most important thing you can do to succeed at synagogue life is to show up! Find one regular event at the synagogue and commit yourself to being there regularly – say, 75% of the time – for a decent block of time. If it’s a weekly event, give yourself three months. It could be Friday night services, or Torah study, or an affinity group like Seniors, morning minyan or choir – but if you are a regular, you will make your own circle of friends and feel “at home.”
BE FLEXIBLE.Connecting with people different from yourself but with whom you have shared values can be fun and useful. Be open to connection with people outside your age bracket / income bracket / level of education / profession / marital status. Those friends will broaden your point of view, and they know stuff you don’t. If you don’t know what to talk about at first, talk about the activity at hand: Torah study, the speaker, Scrabble, etc.
ASK FOR ADVICE. The rabbi, the administrator (if there is one) and people on the temple board are good sources of information about finding a likely group to help you settle in. If they don’t have a group for “single thirty-somethings who love to cook” (or whatever your demographic) ask, “What’s the friendliest group around here?”
MAKE AN APPOINTMENT.It’s a great idea to make a “getting to know you” appointment with temple staff or clergy. Trying to build a relationship with them at the coffee hour after services is like trying to play cards in the middle of a tornado.
VOLUNTEER. I have made some of my firmest friends around shul when I volunteered to be part of the group to clean up after an event. Set up for events often brings out anxieties, but at clean up time, everyone is glad you are there.
BE PROACTIVE. If I am at a temple event and I feel like a wallflower, I look for other wallflowers and chat them up. I have met some wonderful people that way, and gotten to know people from all parts of the synagogue.
BE POSITIVE. We’re Jews, and Jews kvetch. But unless you want to be someone people avoid, try to balance your complaints with compliments. Longtime members are proud of their synagogue. Staff work hard. If someone messes up, of course you let them know. But if you also tell them what they did right, they will be more able to hear your excellent observations.
DON’T BE INTIMIDATED. As a fat disabled lesbian with a Southern accent, I have had people say plenty of dumb and/or annoying things to me at synagogue. Out of town, in an environment where I will never see those people again, I generally roll my eyes and move along. But in my congregation, I find that what works best for me is to be willing to do a little education. I let people know what my limits are: “I don’t like to discuss my health with anyone but my doctor, thanks,” or “You know, Abe, I like you a lot, but I really hate it when anyone imitates my accent.” I tell people what I need: “I can’t take the stairs. Join me in the elevator?” When someone drags out the old saw, “My, you don’t look Jewish!” I just smile pleasantly and say, “This is what Jewish looks like in the 21st century.” When all else fails, my default line is, “Can we talk about something else?”
GIVE EVERYONE THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT.If someone says something stupid, odds are they didn’t stay up all night trying to figure out the best way to insult you. If on the other hand, someone is consistently offensive or annoying, maybe you’re just oil and water. In any community of size, there are going to be a few people with whom you just don’t mix easily. Whatever you do, beware the temptation to bond with others via gossip and mean talk about others. That stuff will leave you more isolated, not less.
BE A MEMBER, NOT A CONSUMER. After you’ve decided this is the shul for you, let “Be a member, not a consumer” be your guide. Keep your commitments to other synagogue members and staff. Treat people like you are going to see them again. If there’s a program or service you want, ask for it, but be willing to contribute to making it happen.
The staff are not the synagogue. The building is not the synagogue. The synagogue is You.
My last Christmas tree was in about 1992, I think. My elder son asked me why we had one if we weren’t Christians. I had not identified as Christian for about seven years, and I decided he had a point. I never celebrated Christmas again in my home.
The kids did not seem to miss it. Their birthdays both fell right after Christmas, and they’d always been overshadowed by that other guy’s birthday. From that year onward, I focused on a big celebration of their birthdays. They got presents, we had cake, and it was good.
So when I became a Jew, Christmas was easy: I’d not been observing the holiday for years. For me it had been a religious holiday, and once the religion dropped away, I discovered that we could enjoy other people’s decorations. When people asked about it usually Aaron would pipe up with, “We’re not Christians.” My younger son enjoyed celebrating with Christian relatives, and that was fine too.
So when I discovered that some Jews have Christmas trees, I was a little confused. Why do something at considerable trouble and expense while insisting that it doesn’t mean anything? I’ve never completely figured out the answer to that one.
Now that I’m a Jew, I celebrate Chanukah. I like the idea of a festival of rededication, especially at a time of the year when Jewishness seems to disappear into the dazzling show. I don’t pay a lot of attention to the officious folk who sniff that it “isn’t a Torah holiday.” Partly that’s because they don’t act so sniffy at Purim, which isn’t a Torah holiday either. And partly it’s because I think there’s something in the human spirit that cries out for shining lights and gathering when the nights are long and longer.
I still love those bright shining lights, whether they are for Chanukah or Christmas. My neighborhood is full of lights, and I love them all. But my home is a Jewish home, and I can’t imagine putting up a symbol of someone else’s holiday. This is my mikdash me’at, my little sanctuary, and I work to make it bright and beautiful with Jewish symbols and customs, sweet and savory with Jewish smells.
Those are bright enough, sweet enough, and warm enough: good enough for me!
Christmas is here, in a very odd year. Chanukah’s so last month – no confusing the two!
And many Jews are gathered for a family party, because this is the day that all of them are off.
Some Jews are gathered with Christian relatives.
Some Jews are going to the movies, and out for Asian food (that’s what’s open, right?)
Some Jews are feeling awkward about all the “Merry Christmas” greetings, and some are not.
Some Jews have really been enjoying all the wild lights in their neighborhood (that’s me.)
Some Jews are glad they don’t have to clean up the mess afterwards (again, me!)
Some Jews are working, having traded the day with Christian co-workers; they’ll be off for synagogue next Rosh HaShanah.
Some Jews hope the rabbi doesn’t stop by.
Some Jews are feeling really conflicted about all of it.
Some Jews and many others are working today: cops, firefighters, EMTs, doctors, nurses, people at the power company, people working transit, clerks at the 7-11. (Thank you!)
Some Jews are feeling left out.
Some Jews are ladling food at soup kitchens.
Most Jews and their neighbors wish for Peace on Earth, today and every day.
Because that’s the thing all of us can agree upon: there is too much hunger, too much poverty, too much war, too much disease, too much pain, too much sorrow, too much tsuris in the world today.
May the new secular year be a year in which we can find a way to work together against war, poverty, hunger, and pain.
On March 31, 2014, I and a lot of other rabbis are going to participate in Shave for the Brave, our way of fighting pain in the new year. If you would like to participate in raising funds for pediatric cancer research, CLICK THIS LINK and help us! Even the smallest donations will combine to make a big difference in the lives of young cancer patients and their families with better and more effective treatments.
I have to be honest about my bias on this topic. One of the fixed items in our household budget is synagogue membership. Our children are grown. We don’t need religious school. No one is studying for a bar mitzvah. But to borrow a phrase from Moses – excuse me, Charlton Heston! – I’ll let go of my synagogue membership when they take it out of my cold, dead hands.
Why is synagogue membership important to me? Let me count the pros:
1. I have a rabbi (actually, two rabbis) on call should we need them. I like knowing that if I have a big decision to make, there’s someone grounded in the tradition with whom I can talk it through. I like knowing that if something bad happens, all members of my family will be free to call on the rabbi for support and guidance. I don’t want to be looking for a rabbi at a crisis in my life.
2. I have a community. I don’t love everything about that community, or everyone in that community, but it is my community, people who know who I am and with whom I navigate life. If I am looking for a plumber, or a doctor, or a real estate agent, everyone has a recommendation. If I have something to celebrate, they will care. If something bad happens, they’ll care. I am not anonymous there.
3. I benefit from the Caring Community, or Committee, or whatever it is we’re calling it now. When my kids were still in school, and I fell and smashed my knee, someone picked up my kids from the bus, someone brought dinner, and someone was on the other end of the phone to help me figure out how I was going to deal with life while my leg was immobilized. As an aging woman with some disabilities, this is not a small thing.
4. I have somewhere to develop and use my talents as a volunteer. This goes for small stuff, like bringing food to potlucks, and to larger things as well. Currently I don’t work for a congregation, but I volunteer some of my professional skills for my congregation. If I had the time, I could sing in the choir (I wish I had the time.) I get appreciation for the things I do from time to time, and that’s nice too. I also learn about social justice action opportunities, and have a ready-made group of people with whom to pursue those.
5. I have a minyan with whom to pray. Jews engage in private prayer, but there are some kinds of prayer for which we need a minyan of at least ten Jewish adults.
6. I have people with whom to learn. There is no substitute for a community when doing Jewish learning: it just does not work alone. And even though I went to rabbinical school, I still have lots to learn: learning is a lifelong activity for a Jew.
7. When there is truly a crisis, I have a community and a rabbi. Much of my work is with unaffiliated Jews, and I have to tell you that that more than anything has convinced me of the benefits of belonging. I do my best for families who are grieving, but they’ve turned to me because someone gave them my name after disaster struck. I’m essentially a nice stranger with a set of skills they need. How much better it would be for them to have a rabbi they know, that they can call the minute trouble looms, and who already knows their story? That is what I want for myself and my family.
8. I know that by supporting this synagogue, I am contributing to the future of Judaism in my area. Even after my kids are grown, children will be learning about Judaism at that synagogue. Couples will get married. Funerals will be held. Celebrations will happen, holidays and fasts will be observed. By being a part of a synagogue, I keep Judaism going.
Now for the “cons” of synagogue membership:
1. Yes, it costs money. Having that rabbi on call, and a secretary and whatever else (a building, a janitor, teachers, etc) costs a lot of money. If money is tight, then you have two options: talk with the synagogue about reduced rates, or opt not to belong for now.
2. As I said above, not everyone at my congregation is my best friend. Sometimes there is conflict. There are some people who drive me a little nuts. I probably drive them a little nuts, too. Comes with the territory. As the old joke goes, sometimes it is easier to love Judaism than it is to love real live Jews.
3. Yes, they bug me to give and to do stuff. Linda and I get periodic appeals for financial and volunteer participation. I also feel free to say “no” when I really can’t or don’t want to do something.
4. I don’t agree with the way everything is done by the synagogue. Policy is up to the board, and they call those shots. I get to state my opinion, but I am not the boss. If it’s the only synagogue in town and the disagreement is about something serious, then maybe it isn’t worth it. For example, I am not sure I could be a happy member of a congregation that wanted me to be closeted, or that did not count women for a minyan.
5. Paying dues is just the beginning. To really get the benefits of synagogue membership, you have to invest time and heart.
Synagogue membership is not cheap. It costs money, time, and heart. Sometimes it is aggravating. But for me, it’s worth it.