Pop Up Synagogues
a conversation with my 90 year old dad, Iran should be renamed Ibolt, or I-got-the-f-k-out
I FaceTime with my 90 year old dad every week for an hour sometimes longer. I love our conversations.
Last Sunday, he told me about the pop-up synagogues that were all over Encino (a town in So. California) back in the 2000-teens, when he and my step ma lived there. They would spot them along Ventura Boulevard during their walks.
“There were probably about seventeen of them,” said step ma, Julie.
I pictured her counting. Julie is always precise. She’s a retired microbiologist so she knows about meticulously identifying and categorizing organisms and probably uses this method in her daily life. She is one of the few people who isn’t overwhelmed in Costco.
Dad chimed in. “There was one schul that took over an old restaurant space. It used to be a French restaurant. La- something.”
“There was a small synagogue above the Goodwill building,” Julie interjected.
“Most of the Jews who started them escaped Iran,” said my dad.
“They ran from Iran,” I said. “Iran should be called, I-bolted. Or, I-got-the-hell-out-of-there.”
My dad laughed. He and my ma were always my best audience.
I continued, “If they ever return to pre-1979, the country can be called, I-Welcome, or, I-Am-Tolerant-of-all-Peoples, or, I-Love-being-a-Woman-here.”
Dad agreed.
I pictured cardboard signs in the windows along Ventura Boulevard like the announcement of a garage sale but the arrow would be colored-in with a sky-blue Sharpie and 6-pointed stars drawn along the edges.
“What were the names of these Schuls?” I asked then answered in my best New York Jewish accent. “’Come. We Pray,’ or, ‘Let’s Kibbitz, Schmooze and Kvel.’ And their subheading might be, ‘You bring your tuches1, we bring the Torah’ or, ‘A-Jew; it’s not a sneeze, but G-d bless you anyway.’”
Dad chortled as Julie served him breakfast.
I was on a roll. “And for those of us who don’t speak Hebrew we’ll sing, ’Forget your tzuris, c’mon get happy...’”
It would have been perfect had dad taken a bite of a bagel, but it was an English muffin.
He chomped and was careful to swallow before speaking. “I once said something in Yiddish to a Persian Jew and he informed me that he was Mizrahi. They and the Sephardic don’t know Yiddish.”
“Yeah. The Sephardic speak Ladino. When I went temple-hopping a few years ago I tried a Sephardic temple. The Siddur2 was in Hebrew, English and Ladino.”
“But we all come from the same place.”
“Yup.”
Dad finished the English muffin. I waited as he chewed thoroughly.
“We had a neighbor at the condo who escaped Uzbekistan and started a schul in his living room,” he said.
“Where did he get a Torah? They’re like forty thousand dollars.”
“I don’t know.”
“I doubt one can borrow a Torah. And it’s not like they’re sold on ebay or a pawn shop. Maybe there’s a black market for Torahs. You have to meet up with an old Rabbi in a dark alley behind a nursing home.”
Dad had moved on to an orange and almost choked with laughter on the pulp.
Torahs are essentially the Old Testament but written in Hebrew on a scroll and are not easy to find, purchase—or carry. They’re heavy and cumbersome. Picture holding an anvil wrapped in velvet with tassels, and, if it accidentally touches the ground or if you drop it G-d will smite you. I’ve never seen a smite in-person. I’ve seen one be smitten, which is the past participle of smite that took on a different meaning around 1650. Don’t get me started on smote. I digress. From my eighty-seven years of Talmudic study, it is my theory that the biblical word, smite, was misspelled and that G-d actually smiles upon you. And if you drop the Torah on your foot, He’s downright laughing.
Meanwhile, the special scribe, a Sofer, who handwrites new Torahs, is not allowed any mistakes. If he messes up one letter, the entire Torah cannot be used, even if it’s the very last word, Yisrael. No “whiteout” for Torah writing. The Sofer must handwrite the tiny Hebrew letters on kosher parchment using a Turkey feather quill dipped in special ink. To my writer friends— how’d you like to write your novel this way? Meanwhile, it can take up to a year and a half to write a new Torah. To my writer friends— how’s that novel going?
Back to the Pop Up Schul
As my dad spoke about the hidden schuls, I suddenly appreciated the dedication of these persecuted Jews. No one was going to stop them from practicing their religion. The old me would have felt guilty for being a secular Jew but since October 7th I’ve been studying the Torah with a Chabad community.3 In a world where so many have completely lost their morals I wanted to find answers. Meditating has always helped alleviate anxiety, but as a believer, I wanted to know what the heck G-d was thinking when He created this universe. What better place, for this Jew, to find answers, then the Torah?
Had I been living in Encino during the 2000-teens I may have participated in these tiny synagogues. I was never one to have a hundred friends, preferring two close buddies. It’s the same with a house of worship. A schul with five families would have suited me well. I prefer the intimacy and getting to know everyone on a deeper level. When the kids were born, Jeffrey and I lived in Los Angeles. We joined a behemoth synagogue near downtown. We loved the Rabbi (who still leads the congregation 27 years later) but the number of members was overwhelming. It was the Microsoft campus of synagogues. I also found it tough for me to connect with G-d when there were overly-impressed congregants bragging about celebrity members. But this was Los Angeles. The conversation amongst women in between prayers went like this-- “...Amen. Love your purse. Dior?” Or “... Elohanu melach-- I saw Rita Wilson the other day, Tom Hanks’ wife. She looks fabulous—b’mitzvotov...” And by the time you reached the parking lot that meaningful sermon completely went out the gullwing door because if you didn’t climb into a Hummer or Bentley, you were disregarded as a viable new friend. Needless to say, it wasn’t my scene. (BUT, if you read my essay from two weeks ago you would know that my mom would have found the Rabbi’s Gucci loafers to be Divine.)
All are welcome at every Chabad around the world. Their mission is to “improve the world through education, kindness and action.” Our local Chabad is like a pop up schul. The Rabbi and his family and the “members” have become friends. The “regulars” are interfaith married couples, a Veteran, and one couple I recently met are Native Americans who loved Judaism so much they joined the Chabad. Our discussions are spiritual, Hebrew is optional, and the food is delicious. The Rebbitzin (Rabbi’s wife) even prepares food for me according to my intolerances. If I were to hang a shingle for their little spiritual oasis, the sign would read, “Leave Your Fakakta Kvetching At the Door.”
Where do you get your inspiration from?
Do you finish chewing before talking?
Did you know that Mike Nesmith’s mom invented Liquid Paper (white out)?
Did you know Mike Nesmith starred in the 60’s musical comedy TV show, The Monkees?
Tuches— Butt in Yiddish.
Siddur— Prayer Book.
“Chabad's mission is to reach out to others with acts of goodness and kindness. [They’re] a community-based nonprofit organization whose efforts are rooted in traditional Jewish values -- and many of [their] programs help the needy regardless of background or belief.” Chabad.com
Every Chabad has an individualized mission statement such as this one in Natick, MA— “Imagine worshiping in an atmosphere of total inclusion and acceptance, where you are welcome, in fact encouraged, to ask questions, and where you are implored to be as nonjudgmental of your neighbor as he or she is of you. This is the atmosphere that has been created in our Shul.”
The Chabad mission where I get my spiritual juju—“Our vision is to create a warm, welcoming environment, and to explore and experience our heritage in an accepting and inviting atmosphere... Our inspiration: The Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson of Righteous Memory.”
Informative
Defiantly finish chewing :) I get funny with people who talk with their mouth full, have to leave the room :)