Last Friday, I dragged another good friend of mine, Laurel, to her first Jewish experience... ever. Unfortunately, it was not really indicative of Jewish synagogues in general in this world. But there is always hope :) It's called Beth Chayim Chadashim and it's significantly south-west of where I live, towards the ocean, at 6000 W. Pico Blvd. I first heard about it from this article:
http://articles.latimes.com/2010/jun/26/local/la-me-beliefs-cantor-20100626 (L.A. synagogue hires first cantor ordained in Germany since WWII). Thanks to answers.com, it became clear that a cantor is "the Jewish religious official who leads the musical part of a service." And musical it was. I specifically chose last Friday because it was the last Friday of July, which, according to the schedule meant it was a specifically musical Shabbat service. Score! In addition, Beth Chayim Chadashim was, I believe, the first synagogue founded for and by LGBT Jews (in the world? something like that. So yes, most (though not all, obviously) of the congregants were queer/gay/bisexual.
Laurel and I found parking and walked up to the building. But for the name emblazoned on the wall, it was otherwise unremarkable: no windows, a single security official sitting on a folding chair outside the door... and a clarinetist on the sidewalk? The music began before we even got in the door! The wonderful Zack Lodmer, the "guest musician" of the service was warming up on his clarinet outside, looking for all the world like a Jewish busker, complete with yamaka and jazz riffs (minus cap for money).
...and then our clarinetist:
Bizarrely enough, the elderly woman he was shaking the hand of had been attacked by a dog while walking there and was bleeding from the cheek upon arrival. She seemed to think that I worked there because I was standing outside. I encouraged her to go in and get bandaids and wash the growing amount of blood on her face and hand.
Inside, it was a very intimate setting, and sadly I took the advice of my friend Sarah and did not take any pictures of the actual inside. But the congregation is moving to a new building in a couple of weeks anyway so were you to visit anytime in the future, it wouldn't look like this anyway. We were eagerly greeted by a nice man who encouraged us to look around and partake in the copious cheeses and grapes and DELICIOUS white wine which tasted like juice and which I am desperate to buy for myself.
The small entrance lobby-room opened into a larger room with about 60-70 chairs in a semi-circle around a raised platform which sufficed as a stage. Behind the little stage were two Torahs in a plastic case and some narrow but long horizontal stained glass with images of waves, candles, and the Torah. Sitting on the stage were Rabbi Lisa Edwards, Cantor Juval Porat on guitar (famous from that article), and previously-mentioned Zack on clarinet. We began, strangely enough, with the rabbi fighting with a speakerphone set at the front of the stage so congregants could listen to services from their home! A great idea, except for one point during the service when someone seemed to be having a conversation w/o their phone on mute, so we could hear it--oops. The service began at 8pm and the entire first hour was music. We both were given prayer-books which opened right to left and were all written in Hebrew and, thankfully, phonetic Hebrew. We began with "A New Song to God: Psalm 96" to celebrate "Ruach Chayim": "Spirit of Life." The cantor played chords on guitar and sang through a little wireless mic attached to his cheek and Zack, the clarinetist, began riffing. And not just regular stuff. He was a regular Gershwin! He was clearly not using written music and was throwing jazz riffs around and bending notes like nothing I'd heard since Rhapsody in Blue. He accompanied the cantor on most songs. Laurel and I mumbled through the words, me more so than her (I've been practicing singing, as my next post will explain).
There were various prayers given, for one of which we all stood up and faced the door (east?). New members of the church were welcomed to the front to light candles. The rabbi asked us to pray for family, lovers, partners, etc. She was very inclusive, which was nice. A note I made of her prayer:
"May we say the words we need to say to one another. May we be who we say we are."
Great words. The rabbi then read some Walt Whitman (woo, lgbt synagogue. no need to read this whole passage if you're just skimming this blog entry): "This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body."
[back to me now, goodbye Walt] After more than an hour of wonderful, everyone-singing music, Rabbi Lisa Edwards did her short sermon. She began by talking about her wife, Tracy, and how when the two of them travel, they have difficulty remembering to bring along all the power of attorney forms, etc., which prove that they are married for states that don't recognize their marriage. But they only remember the forms about 50% of the time. She then likened that experience to what is going on in Arizona now, and how immigrants would have to have their papers on their person at all times and how difficult and dehumanizing that was. She then turned uss to the
Torah Verse of the Week: "So circumcise the foreskin of your heart, your neck you are not to keep-hard anymore." And while I'm a mature college grad, I was barely able to not snicker the first time I read it. And was definitely curious about how that quote would relate to the Rabbi's talk. And indeed, we got it. She explained that Jewish values promise that God loves the stranger and so must you. You must circumcise your heart and no longer keep your neck stiff. Now I will explain this for you. Circumcise is a. a sign of a covenant with God (okay) and also b. traditionally gendered (like orthodox Jews :-/ ). But when it is the circumcision of your heart, it is not just for men. You need to cut away the thickness and allow the softness to come through (yes, we are not talking about a penis here, but your heart. Do your best to follow along.) Stiffening your neck, then, is about being able to look behind you and see where you come from! Which everyone benefits from doing, she said, as no one got to where they are now without help. The rabbi talked about the biggest pride march that happened in Jeruselum the week before, and how the deputy mayor of Jeruselum helped lead a counter-protest (ugh). The counter-protest apparently had a sign that had a picture of a donkey in reference to the "bestial nature" of homosexuality. But, as the rabbi pointed out, in the Torah there is a passage where a donkey is the only one who sees the angel and it actually even speaks its wisdom. So boo yah. It is important that we trim away our shell of fear and defenselessness. She tied it all together by saying that we all know how it feels to carry documents or not have them, and that it is important that we bond together in efforts to better humanity. What a great sermon! Short but sweet.
The entire service was actually about two hours long, as there was a big ceremony of consoling mourners: "may their memory bring you peace, give you strength, and be a blessing," and everyone touching everyone else to reach to the Hallah bread, which was very tasty. Laurel and I practically had a whole meal of breads, cheeses, grapes, and wine during Shabbat services. Yum.
Overall a very pleasant (albeit a little long) experience. Everyone was very friendly and I think I figured out how to pronounce a lot of Hebrew by the end! (though I hadn't a clue what it meant unless there was an English translation)
Shabbat Shalom, everybody.
