I signed up for Chabad services, but the good Lord said Let it rain and Jeffrey and I didn’t feel like driving the 45 minutes into Seattle, searching for parking, dodging tents while wearing our “Sunday best.” Oh, and in Seattle, umbrellas are frowned upon. Then the guilt clutched me like a scared toddler. I texted my sister in Los Angeles. “What are you guys doing?”
“We’re streaming services. Want my password?”
She was home too! The guilt would lift when I tuned in to her synagogue in Los Angeles. (Perhaps I’ll sign up for the Chabad’s Sukot celebration- a lesser-known holiday— maybe because it’s a happy one.)
Yom Kippur is unlike any other new year celebration. It’s an emotional holiday. A day of gratitude for the life you’ve been given, a day to reflect on your behavior of the last year and ask G-d, friends, and family for forgiveness. It’s humbling as we also contemplate the coming year. How can we change for the better? A rabbi might also ask a deeper question, Who will be granted life for another year? That’s heavy. My inner reply is always, “Pick me! Pick me!”
As I punched in Vicki’s secret password I thought, “I am now live streaming G-d into my living room—and Enter.” Presto-- There they were— strangers dressed in white, live, from a Hollywood schul, singing and chanting Hebrew on my computer screen whilst I sat in my sweatpants, cuddled with my pooch and Jeff played video games. I also tried to fast but by 11:30am I had a headache and needed food. Besides, I’m already a Skinny Minnie; I need calories. (And why isn’t the name Minnie back in vogue like Hazel or Hannah?)
This is how the fasting day goes for me:
7:30am—I can brush my teeth, can’t I?
8:30am—I’ll just allow myself water today.
9:30am—I’ll drink three gallons of water—that will fill me up.
10:30am—One biscuit couldn’t hurt.
And, we know what happened by 11:30. Gorged and engorged on an early lunch.
Why fast?
It purifies the spirit and helps the mind concentrate on the prayers. Sorry but, if I don’t eat, I don’t focus. In fact, the last time I succeeded in fasting a nap was in order by 1pm.
Back to my computer screen
I was amazed at the number of rabbis and cantors on the Bema (stage). Who the heck was leading this congregation? They all took turns like well-trained kindergartners. I knew this schul was the result of merging with another behemoth synagogue. I supposed one or two folks of the cloth must have retired— hopefully willingly. I imagined it going down like a gangsta scene from the 1940s. Think, On the Waterfront.
“Listen Reb, we’re gonna be one schul, ya hear me? This Bema ain’t big enough for the both of us.”
“But I’m at my peak. I’m gonna fight this.”
“It’s my way or the 405 highway.”
“I coulda been a contenda. I coulda been somebody’s Rebbi.”
Houses of worship in this country are closing their doors at an alarming rate. For many Jews it’s the financial burden. “You want to charge what for an annual membership?” There’s one synagogue in LA that offers a near-spa experience. It’s known as the Schul with the Pool. Now that’s the way to bring people back to G-d. Besides the young hip pastors or the Secular Sabbath synagogues and churches might consider implementing ideas from extravagant gyms: Virtual Reality workouts and Biometric Trackers. Not only will you work out your body, but your spirit will be robust!
This could be an ad for a Catholic church:
Go to 1 confession- get a facial. Bring a friend and receive a free manicure!
Last month Jeffrey and I saw the Sistine Chapel. I was ready to convert. “You mean, these frescos come with the religion? I’m in.” Imagine—the Sistine Chapel with a juice bar and free wifi.
We’ve been in the Seattle area for over 8 years. It’s an odd Jewish community here. If you don’t live in the fancy schmancy areas of Bellevue or Mercer Island— where most of the synagogues reside— you are relegated to a commute. And if you bond with that congregation, you’re labeled GU. Geographically Undesirable. Nurturing friendships from our tribe is tough. Jeffrey and I commuted for a while. But as I mentioned above, the rain can deter the best of us. The spirit is willing but-- there’s traffic. Plus, you’d think Seattle-ites would know how to drive in the rain. News flash—they don’t!
I miss the connection with people. Especially as a writer— which is a secluded, reclusive form of work. (I fared well during the pandemic. I was already familiar with the aloneness.) Our town has no synagogue. If someone asked, “Where’s the Jewish community?” They would point to our front door.
When Jeffrey and I were in Rome two weeks ago we learned that there are 900 churches yet only 450 in use. I thought about all those potential communities. Where did they go? Generations never to meet. Dispersed like Jews in the desert. Did these once potential relationships form other types of bonds online instead? I’ve made friends through Substack and Facebook too. But the in-person human connection is forfeited. And since Covid, people are hug wary. After a hand shake a bottle of Purell is drawn like a firearm and smeared over that germy hand. I’m guilty of this. Although, I have the courtesy to wait until that hand-shake person is out of sight, all the while holding up my hands like a surgeon, then carefully retrieving the antiseptic gel from my purse with my elbows and teeth. I’ll squeeze a half dollar sized clear lump into my palm and with the excess, rub the bottle clean as well. I’ve had Covid. It wasn’t fun. I had the version where you are so weak you can barely crawl to the bathroom.
After a day of prayer with a few breaks, the fifth Amidah was sung, and shofar (ram’s horn) blown signifying the new year. How about a synagogue where you can earn points like the airlines. If you participate for 5 Shabbats consecutively you earn enough points to get you free Challah for a year.
Now let’s party like it’s 5784.
If you’re not of the Jewish persuasion, were you confused?
What would you like to improve about yourself? Don’t be shy.
Happy New Year.
What else is new?
Thank you for sharing your technological challenges over the holiday services. I literally watched Temple Israel of Boca instead of Michigan and didn’t notice for almost 15 minutes, I just thought they had new rabbi’s. I absolutely love that quote at the top, perfect for us that practice on the holidays. To be honest since the end (control of Covid) I have found a new appreciation of going to services, twice a year, in person. I see what is happening in our world and this sappy man loved attending services this fall with my adult children,
I'm not Jewish but I keep the Sabbath and the holidays Moses kept. I have no Sabbath-keeping place of worship in my sleepy suburban town either so one has to pierce the increasingly hostile urban veil to collectively witness the face of God (or at least presumably godly people) when a holy day rolls around. Like your Seattlelites, no one in New Haven Connecticut knows how to drive in the rain--or snow, or on a sunny day in May either. Neither do they know how to leave the automobiles of other people alone, so the question of returning home in your intact vehicle is always a concern.
When God called us out of Egypt, and away from the company of the Amorites and Amalakites, I suspect he was already preparing us for the lesson of the decaying American metropolis, where rights of property are no longer widely understood and a camel unattended is some Hittite's beast of burden come sundown.
As I no longer have a church job that ties me to a physical location (I used to do all the audio-visual stuff till COVID hit and the anti-vaxxers were shown the door), I too stream God and hope for a better connection. My internet is fine but the flesh remains weak.