Elise in San Francisco
Elise’s Shabbat in San Francisco.
It was my parents’ yahrtzeit last week. Julian, on our staff, found a shul where I could say kaddish. Congregation Magen David was closest to the hotel – a short 3 miles, for which I needed to leave at 6:30am. My Russian cab driver wasn’t paying much attention to me or the paper I handed him but when we arrived in front of the synagogue – which though modest, jumped out in the middle of the plain block where it was located – he asked why I was going. To say Kaddish, I explained, and so it was clear I was Jewish and of course so was he, from Odessa, somewhere I’ve always wanted to visit. Auspicious beginning…
The shul is Sephardic so I was surprised, as I entered up the women’s staircase, by the sound of Russian. There were a handful of old men on the other side of a modest mechitza. The shul was brightly lit by at least 10 chandeliers (each with a small tag dangling, acknowledging its donor) and it was quite handsome. Artwork on the walls, signs in Hebrew not to talk during prayers or Torah reading. One old man acknowledged my presence. There wasn’t a minyan and I was concerned – not only that I couldn’t say kaddish but that this was the last of a “tribe” of men who got up early, daily, to say their prayers. What would happen to other people who need to say kaddish on a Friday in the middle of summer? Fears unfounded: over the course of the next 20 minute men of all ages arrived, the voices and cadences swelled. What struck me was no matter how fast the baal tefila read (and one old fellow was unbelievably speedy, though every word was perfectly articulated) the sense of urgency and fervor was always present. These men knew the meaning of the prayers. Their phrasing, cadences, pitch and emphasis, raising their voices, even shouting out certain words together was so different from my recollection of the muttering I associate with orthodox prayer. And even on Friday morning there was a drash – on the importance of carrying out the small mitzvoth such as feeding your animal before yourself. In spite of my antipathy to the separate seating, etc, I was encouraged that a young man led part of the services (it seemed almost choreographed how leading got tossed around the room without any stop – like a great game of volley ball). I left most satisfied and delighted by this odd discovery.
Later that evening…
Not being sure what I’d find for Friday morning, I arranged to go with my friend Francesco Spagnolo to attend Kabbalat Shabbat at Sha’ar Zahav, the GLBT synagogue in the Castro where his wife Sharon is the Cantor. My 15 year old son was with me, as was Francesco’s and Sharon’s cherubic five year old son Ariel. I wasn’t sure what to expect, mostly because it is a very progressive shul. Raised conservative and allergic to bad English translations, I was predisposed to dismissing what I expected to be a watered-down version of my favorite service. But I’d planned to say Kaddish and I’d invited my brother to join me.
What a surprise was I in for. First off the Synagogue, in an old church, is gorgeous. We are greeted by the Shul VP and another member and asked to put on a name tag (hmmm- is this something most shuls do so people learn each others names? novel). Francesco introduces us to several amazing people including Rabbi Eliot who works in a Jewish healing center. The hallways of the shul are clean, well lit and the community room has beautiful decorative painting along the top. But the sanctuary itself is a marvel. The high ceiling slants up with warm wooden beams, light streams in from skylight and windows and the benches are arranged in a semi circle so the bima is close. The congregation is glorious. One young person with long pink Mohawk is next to a white mom with her dark skinned daughter. Same sex couples, trans folks with babies, and lots more. The minhagim are wonderful. New folks are asked to introduce themselves (some do, not all). Everyone puts their arms around each other when we start singing Hinei Mah Tov. Different congregants read parts of the “context” from a gorgeous new prayer book, which the congregation put together a year ago. It has gorgeous poetry, drawings and photos, and fantastic information. (It did not surprise me to read later in their newsletter The Gaily Forward, that Joellen Green Kaiser, the powerhouse editor of ZEEK, is an active member of the shul). There are 6 versions of the Amidah and many rewrites of prayers with changes of gender, acknowledgement of queer perspective and all through a very Jewish lens. So exciting. The singing is robust – it is all in Hebrew and the songs range from old regulars to a complicated Algerian tune for Adon Olam. Sharon does a wonderful drash – a completely different take on the parsha that had been commented on early this same morning – about how God’s “carrot” is to take care of the crops, insure our well being, etc if we do for God and that the “stick” is that God doesn’t do that. She took reward and punishment into the realm of love and how love can be shown, even in a workplace situation, and that it is worthy for its own sake…I’m botching it badly but it was brilliant.
The end of the service sounds so corny but it was really lovely. Everyone joins arms across the aisles for Oseh Shalom, and then after Kiddush, everyone touches someone else as the challah is blessed. Its so welcoming, Hamish, genuine and deep in its reflection of Jewish values. I felt doubly blessed.
