Well, I hate to say it, but I'm in a funk. This Shabbat which just ended was pretty much a bust.
Wait -- I take that back -- we enjoyed a wonderful lunch with Jeff Pearlstein and Nancy Dallek, of White Plains, who were gracious enough to invite us over for a very nice lunch in Baka. Thanks very much!
No, the real problem was shul. We (or at least I) have not found a shul that really works. Last week we were at this place which was ok, but met the gym of Toby's high school. It was also a little on the dead side, and we didn't really connect with anyone per se.
This week, Toby and I tried a shul, the Ramban shul in Katamon (not to be confused with the shul of the same name in the Old City). It is pretty well known because its rabbi, Beni Lau, is a big deal in the whole Tsohar movement, and also a pretty well regarded writer and speaker.
Ok. As for Rabbi Lau, I was impressed. He was quite a presence, and his drasha (betach b'ivrit) was a very good workout for my Hebrew, and I enjoyed it.
As for the shul itself, what a bummer. Packed to the rafters (which is fine; Toby and I were late, and so can't really complain that we had to look pretty hard for seats), the shul had a mixture of New York-y Americans (I'd say "Teaneck-y" to be more specific) and dati leumi Israelis. A mixture of Hebrew and English in the peanut gallery talking. Toby and I finally found a seat, right smack in the middle of the right hand section of the shul. We davened, we listened to the k'riah, and to the drasha, and I tried to keep up a good face.
After davening, while trying to make our way out to the courtyard by the shul, that was where the annoyingness began. Obviously new, obviously not knowing a soul nor where anything was, Toby and I, I would think, should attract at least one friendly person asking us who we were. But no. Nothing. Not a look, not a "Shabbat shalom," not even a nod or smile.
It's been a long time since I've felt so alienated at shul. Once upon a time, as a young couple in New York, Kara and I felt like we didn't know anyone at the Lincoln Square synagogue. But even there, the resident "good Shabbos - are - you -new - here - where - are - you - from" guy came up and greeted us. Here, shum davar. Nada. Nothing. I felt like I was invisible.
It's a really yucky feeling, I can tell you.
Kara, who went to Shira Hadasha, had a better experience. At least people talked to her there. I think it is the place probably we would gravitate towards, but for reasons related to my profession (ha-mavin ya'avin) it's difficult for me.
I swear, I'm about ready to just crash the Hasidic shtible next door to our apartment. At least when they ignore me there it will be for reasons I can understand.
Oh, and we still have no idea where to daven on Rosh Hashanna, which begins in four days.
Sorry to complain again. Next post better, I hope.
At least here's a nice pic of my sweeties to offset my griping.
Jess, we love the blog, but don't understand all the references in Hebrew. Could you translate for us non bilingual folks.
ReplyDeleteSorry guys. Here's the lexicon for this post, and I'll make sure to include translations in future posts:
ReplyDeleteDrasha: Sermon
B'tach b'ivrit: In Hebrew, of course
Davened: Prayed
K'riah: Torah Reading
Shum davar: absolutely nothing
hamavin ya'avin: Those who understand will understand -- a catchphrase meaning I'd rather not go into detail for the sake of discretion.
Catching up on the blog....assume the shul in Yehuda HaLevi is Shir Chadash (Rabbi Peer)? It gets more crowded/lively once September rolls around.
ReplyDeleteAgree though - it is hard to find a place in your area that you will really feel part of anything...the one downside to shuls there.
Well, I didn't actually know until you wrote, Jon, and then I looked it up, but yes. I have to say, it's remarkable to me that in a minyan of mostly olim, and judging from the English spoken, of a recently and Anglophone vintage, there is so little hospitality. I don't mean like invitations to meals (although I do have to thank the Lurie family for inviting us for lunch), but simply a "Shabbat shalom, I've never seen you before. Welcome!" and perhaps a smile, although even the smile is optional.
ReplyDeleteYou'd think that there would be some sympathy in such a place for people making a big transition and really needing a friendly face/greeting. Maybe I'm spoiled (although God forbid we should be at a point where simply receiving a "Shabbat shalom" is being spoiled), but I've never really experienced anything like the utter lack of interest in newcomers in my life...including in New York, which until now I had considered the least hospitable place (shul-wise) in the world. Move over New York, make room for the Ir ha-Kodesh for that ignominious distinction!