Somehow this troglodyte has found her way into a case of dueling blogs.
Part of my religion reporting class, it seems, is posting to the aptly-named class blog, Sects in the City. My first post, on Jehovah's Witness door-to-door training, was an adventure and a half.
Stay tuned for the continuing adventures. Next-up: an afternoon at a restaurant where Muslim cabbies stop to pray.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
G-d's Word is heavy
There was music. There was dancing. There were construction-paper flags being waved from taped-together-plastic-straw poles. And in the middle of it all there was me -- dancing with a Torah scroll.
This weekend is Simchat Torah, when Jews celebrate the completion of the annual cycle of Torah readings and bring the scrolls out for the congregation to see and touch and celebrate.
I celebrated tonight at a Reform synagogue (tomorrow I will be at a Chabad shul), where women wore yarmukles and prayer shawls, and even a shiksa like me is invited to take a turn dancing with a scroll.
Even this reform congregation, where women lead many portions of the service, it was the men who stood up to take the first turn parading the scrolls around the room. The first man -- short, middle-aged, in a suit -- nearly burst with pride as he held the Torah.
I was so touched by his joy that when the rabbi prompted me to take a turn with a scroll, I couldn't say no.
And what I learned is this: not only is the scroll an awkward thing to carry, but it is much heavier than you'd think. The music and dancing are dizzying, and you are at once putting such concentration into not dropping the precious object and also lifted by the jubilant spirit around you.
The children didn't seem to have a real sense of what was happening, and their parents seemed mostly to be putting on a show to get their kids excited about it, but the older people -- this meant something to the older people. As we circled the seats carrying the scrolls, they reached out with their fingers or their texts to touch the Torah and kiss the object that had touched it.
What a blessing, to be responsible, if even for a moment, for something that brings people such meaning.
This weekend is Simchat Torah, when Jews celebrate the completion of the annual cycle of Torah readings and bring the scrolls out for the congregation to see and touch and celebrate.
I celebrated tonight at a Reform synagogue (tomorrow I will be at a Chabad shul), where women wore yarmukles and prayer shawls, and even a shiksa like me is invited to take a turn dancing with a scroll.
Even this reform congregation, where women lead many portions of the service, it was the men who stood up to take the first turn parading the scrolls around the room. The first man -- short, middle-aged, in a suit -- nearly burst with pride as he held the Torah.
I was so touched by his joy that when the rabbi prompted me to take a turn with a scroll, I couldn't say no.
And what I learned is this: not only is the scroll an awkward thing to carry, but it is much heavier than you'd think. The music and dancing are dizzying, and you are at once putting such concentration into not dropping the precious object and also lifted by the jubilant spirit around you.
The children didn't seem to have a real sense of what was happening, and their parents seemed mostly to be putting on a show to get their kids excited about it, but the older people -- this meant something to the older people. As we circled the seats carrying the scrolls, they reached out with their fingers or their texts to touch the Torah and kiss the object that had touched it.
What a blessing, to be responsible, if even for a moment, for something that brings people such meaning.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
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