I had the whole thing puzzled out by then, being as the prayer book was of no use to me. I'd figured out that my uncle knew that my mother had paid some guy in another synagogue to say Kaddish for the year. I figured that her act then absolved me of this obligation. So, saying seated, I knew I was doing what I supposed to do, and that I wasn't going to appear once again to be the idiot in the room!
Out of the corner of my eye I saw my uncle motioning to me. “Get up,” he whispered urgently. “Up. Now!” he said through his teeth. It was nearly the end of the service. And I finally got it. This was where you were supposed to say the Mourner’s Kaddish. Ahh. Needless to say, I was completely confused; perplexed, even.
Spending most of the service in a state of unending anxiety trying not to look completely ignorant in front of my sister’s family to be (and she was more clueless than I was, trust me), I failed to connect what we were doing with anything remotely spiritual. And so it went. Synagogue services were a two-hour bore (unless the sermon happened to be unusually compelling), and I spent most of my time trying futility to keep up with the rapid Hebrew (and standing up at the right time). This was hardly the foundation for anything remotely spiritual.
This became a chronic problem when, after getting married, my husband wanted to join a Conservative synagogue. I was all for doing whatever he wanted to do; it certainly didn’t matter to me which synagogue we didn’t attend (except for the requisite High Holy Days and other special occasions). Except, there was a problem. He wanted to go. Like, often. As in every week (and on every holiday). OY!
By then (it was a year after my sister's wedding) I’d figured out the Hebrew alphabet, more out of self-defense than anything else, and thought I knew my way around the curves and angles of the aleph-bet (that’s what we in the Jewish ed biz call the Hebrew alphabet).
Article comments
1 - Dr Joseph S Maresca
This is somewhat reminiscent of my first attendance at a Temple ceremony in the area of White Plains, NY. The occasion was the highlight of a course in Judaism taught by Rabbi Maurice Davis- a considerable scholar in the area of Diaspora Judaism.
2 - Jim
It's fascinating how unpromising things can be at the beginning of a spiritual awakening. Looking forward to reading more.
3 - Heloise
I have had so many dreams about my past life as an orthodox Jew, what we ate, and how we lived. You should publish something about daily Jewish life. I've watched everything on Netflix about Jewish religious life that's why they raised the prices on everybody. Heloise was eating up the foreign films LOL.
Good article
4 - Heloise
I have a question: do all orthodox Jewish women have to wear the wigs I've seen in movies? I know arab women wear the hajib or a scarf or burka, i.e., if they are orthodox. So what are the rules about hair covering for Synagogue. We Catholics used to have to wear covering only during mass. Then I think that got thrown out.
5 - Barbara Barnett
Hi Heloise--Orthodox women cover their hair out of modesty. Some wear wigs, others head scarves or hats. Covering hair for synagogue can vary depending on denomination. In our egalitarian Conservative synagogue, we cover our hair when praying for the same reason men do--to acknowledge that there is something above us (God). It's a constant reminder that humans are not top of the heap, nor owners of the universe (or even Earth). Others cover their heads out of respect for God, and still other women (orthodox) out of modesty.
Some traditions require covering heads in synagogue only of married women. It is incredibly varied (except in the orthodox denominations).