ir/reverence

Those of you who have been reading me regularly for awhile may know that I don’t do religion.  I’m not an atheist or even agnostic, I’m just not a joiner and I have a lot of trouble swallowing all the ‘word of god’ stuff.  My questions about religion and spirituality started when I was fairly young and my journey to where I am now is the subject for another post but part of that journey was embracing Reform Judaism.  Not for myself so much but as a foundation for my children.  I fully expected them, as young adults, to continue their own spiritual journey just as I did but my daughter never wavered.  So it was that I found myself at temple last night for services on the first night of Hanukah.

Going to services of any kind for me is sort of like watching performance art.  I don’t participate, don’t join in with the responsive reading but I do enjoy the sights and sounds, the music and the people.  Even when it’s in English instead a foreign language, all the different voices responding in their own rhythms makes it sound like a foreign language.  I’ll close my eyes and listen to the sounds waxing and waning like the surf on a beach.

Last night, after a ‘ridiculously expensive’ (my daughter’s description) latke dinner at the Temple there was a short service about the story of Hanukah with a choir of elementary school age kids who sang the prayers and Hanukah songs throughout the service.   My grandgirl Robin was in the choir.  

It was mostly pandemonium in the sanctuary with all the kids running around while everyone made their way from the dinner to find a seat.  People corralling kids, greeting friends, talking on their phones, other kids are hanging out on the steps to the bima.  I’ve always found Jews to be a bit irreverent when compared to the Christian services I attended as a child and it is one of the things that drew me to them.  My very first exposure, however, was going to Rosh Hashanna services at an orthodox synagogue with my boyfriend (who later became the Husband) and all through the services people were talking to each other, and to my eyes and mind, not paying the least bit of attention or respect.  I know different now but then, coming from a background where the church was sacrosanct and you entered in silence and respect and remained that way til you finally escaped, I was appalled.

Robin was already on the bima with the choir when we got there and joined Mom and siblings (Dad was at work) in the pews.  We all waved wildly at Robin and she waved back.  Robin is such a dramatic kid.  We were all a little amazed at how subdued she was up there.  When the director signaled for the kids to stand for the first song and then again to sit when they were done, Robin still stood, gazing out at the congregation instead of paying attention.  When she finally rested her gaze on her mother who was motioning for her to sit, she cast a glance at the other kids and plopped herself down.  From there ensued some typical Robin behavior.  When she realized her sister was taking pictures of her she held the song card up in front of her head, when her brother started making faces at her she’d stick her tongue out at him, after several songs she’s clutching her throat as if parched.  I think towards the end she was just mouthing the words instead of singing.  That’s my Robin.

After it was over, in the lobby, the Sisterhood had packaged up the leftover latkes and salad and pita bread and was selling them to people as they left.  Marc bought a package of the latkes and the pita bread and while people were streaming by us on their way out, our clan was standing in the big middle scarfing down latkes.

All I can say is, I raised them right.