2 Sephardic shuls in Carmiel, which is in the Galilee. I was in Carmiel visiting my mother’s friends Elie and Leah. Friday night: this was the first time I’ve seen Indian Jews in a shul. Strange seeing central Asian faces under fedoras dressed in black with long beards. There were also numerous African Jews and East Asian Jews (Filipinos?). Friday night’s shul was the most culturally diverse shul I’ve ever davened in. Spiritual popcorn? Perhaps. What about the feature presentation: the davening? Most of the time I was lost. I didn’t bring my siddur because I thought I would find an acceptable one in the shul. And I did. The siddur i found was perfect for someone who reads Hebrew like it’s second nature. But I read Hebrew like it’s a second language. Furthermore, the nusach (liturgical texts) were Sephardic at this shul, and that meant that I was seeing several texts I hadn’t seen much before. On top of that, while Ashkenazic congregants let the cantor do a lot of the singing for them, Sephardic congregants (Jews from Moslem countries) sing every word of their nusach in unison, and I’m not so familiar with the tunes. As a consequence of all this, I was disoriented, winded, and had little idea what the people around me were saying some of the time. My most disoriented moment was when everyone chanted Song of Songs. The whole thing. I had almost no idea what they were singing. At the end of the service, a few people approached me to wish me a Shabbat Shalom. Sephardim have a tradition of shaking your hand and kissing the outer edge of their own index finger. Where did this tradition come from? I don’t know. But I like it. I bet that they kiss their own finger to signify the sacredness of friendliness and of human communication.
Saturday morning I went to another Sephardic shul about twenty minutes by foot from the other shul. While they didn’t sing Shir HaShirim (Song of Songs) and they weren’t as culturally diverse as the other shul, this shul had one clear advantage for me over the other. A man in the pews helped me out and made me feel at home. When I first walked into the sanctuary, I did a little 5-second fake, dodge, parry, and double-take, sub-consciously signifying that I had no idea where I was or what I was supposed to do next. Also, I stood out a bit because I was taller, gingier, whiter than nearly everyone else, and I was the only one wearing shorts. This last difference was the result of poor planning and decades of forgetting to bring important articles of clothing on short excursions. First, my man in the pews pointed to where the tallitim (prayer shawls) were. After I had taken one, he gestured towards the seat next to him, into which I promptly plopped. Be-tallised and beseated, I looked to my left to find that my man in the pews was offering me a copy of Tehillim (Psalms) and Torah. He took in hand the siddur I had brought with me and stashed it in the cubby in front of me. There was a bar mitzvah and young whippersnapper read very well. Have you seen Sephardic cases for the Sefer Torah (Torah scroll)? They’re something like beautifully adorned euphonium cases with elaborately designed crowns. Hmmm. No. They’re not really like euphonium cases , but they might be approximately the same length as euphonium cases. They really aren’t similar to euphonium cases in any other way though. You’ve probably never seen a euphonium case anyway, or if you had you wouldn’t necessarily know what they look like, so my comparison is perhaps not so wonderful. Hrmphh. The sefer Torah stands inside these euphonium cases and the leyner (Torah reader) can look straight ahead when he leyns . Ashkenazic Sifrei Torah get laid down flat so that the leyner has to bend over to read them. I bet it’s good for your back to be a Sephard. Since it was a bar mitzvah, the men got pelted with candy from above: women getting their revenge on a tradition that forbids them from approaching the sacred text or even seeing it clearly during services. A well-wrapped morsel of strawberry hard candy hurled by a female with a good arm made a 4-hour crater in my right cheek. The crater was still there when I got back to Elie and Leah’s house a few hours later, but no permanent damage. No harm; no foul. The Torah reading went very well. I had studied the Torah portion thoroughly during the train rides I took to Carmiel on Friday morning, reading each Hebrew verse twice and its English translation once. I was pleased to find myself comprehending the Hebrew more than ever before when it was read in the shul. After the service was over, my man in the pews wished me a Shabbat Shalom, shook my hand, kissed his finger, and asked me where I was from (in Hebrew). I told him that I was from Chicago, that I was living in Jerusalem and that I was visiting friends in Carmiel for the weekend (in Hebrew). He invited me to return for afternoon prayer at 6pm and to join him for the bar mitzvah party outside. A very kind fellow. I felt a bit bad when I walked straight out of the shul, onto the street, down the steps, left at the mailboxes, and right down the second street back to Elie and Leah’s house. But I was really too tired to party. I slept from 11 am to 2pm, when Leah served lunch. I didn’t return to my man in the pews and his shul for minchah. Instead I davened minchah solo, and maariv, and the next morning’s shacharit.
