The High Holy days in Israel were fascinating and meaningful but perhaps not for the reasons one might think. I have to say that the month of Elul was not what it could have been from a reflection standpoint. It's a little hard to reflect when you are trying to keep up with readings, learn binyanim, stand in line to pay utility bills at the post office, and generally keep up with the disorganization called rabbinical school. I wish I could say that my prayer and reflection was intense . . . but not so much . . .
What was fascinating was the scenery of Jerusalem:
Around Rosh Hashanah it was incredible to be walking home after shul and hearing shofars blowing in the distance, most people you pass wishing you well. Unexpected to get a pleasant Shana Tova from the fish monger and David Dagim in the shuk (the best place to get fish by the way . . . great recommendation by Hanna). Usually I just get my wet fishy smelling change. A rabbi who shall remain nameless telling me an absolutely hilarious dirty joke that makes no sense outside of Israel (I shall only repeat in person so I can reserve the right to deny having any knowledge of it . . . ).
Best of all was Yom Kippur. Prior to this experience, I had always looked on Yom Kippur as a solemn occasion with overwhelming weight. In Jerusalem it was different. Certainly there was prayer, reflection, repentance, and all of that but there was also a lightness to it. Throughout the world Yom Kippur is referred to as the Shabbat of Shabbats (Shabbatot doesn't sound quite right) but in Israel it is really true. The world did stop. There was no traffic . . . none. Even the traffic lights were turned off, all flashing yellow. People walking down the middle otherwise busy streets. And the kids riding their bikes in the streets. I will remember for quite some time on Erev Yom Kippur walking home from the Old City, turning up David HaMelech from Mamilla and seeing a young man peddling up the hill, turning his bike around and beginning his coasting descent. Then, displaying for all a feat normally only expected at the circus, he put his feet underneath him on the seat of the bike and slowly stood straight up, hands and arms out parallel to the ground, and rode his bike this way the hundred or so yards down to the bottom of the hill. No doubt he had praticed for months and tuned his bike diligently for this once a year Yom Kippur feat. He got an applause, whop and holler from me, well deserved.
Usually by late in the afternoon on Yom Kippur day, I am beyond consumed by a headache and nausea. Two years ago, it was so bad that I thought my fasting days were over. I just wasn't physically made for maintaining the fast. But, after morning services, a friend and I went on a leisurely walk and talk over to the Wall. We stopped at a roof top overlook he knew, took in the sights, and listened to a pathetic and comical Jerusalem commentary by a tour guide to a group of American Christian tourists. The conversation and the walk made all the difference in giving me that strength to make it through the fast.
I must also say that one of the best decisions that I made at the beginning of the summer was to join the High Holy Day Choir. We started out as 6 Cantorial students and 4 Rabbinical students. But by the time the High Holy Days rolled around the only rabbis left were Polly and I. I had this great vision of learning a lot about High Holy Day music. I can't say I did that. But, I can say I learned a lot about people and how important for me music is in relating to God. My thanks to all of the Cantors for allowing us to join the Choir, especially Vlad, my baritone counterpart who consistently helped me find the right notes and was consistently encouraging despite the many frustrations. And also to Cantor Michal Schiff-Mater whose kindness, gentleness, and love for the music of prayer comes through in almost everything she does.
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