Shabbat Reflections

I finally got my tush to temple tonight (yeah yeah, I know I shouldn't be blogging). I haven't gone to Shabbat services in a long time, but today I promised myself I'd go. First, I promised two people I'd say a prayer for their ailing parents, plus I had my own prayers to say. So, I went over to the Chabad. Socially I love the people I've encountered. I love going to the rabbi's home for dinner. I love the energy of the people. But temple there felt foreign and awkward. First I was the only woman for most of the service. This means I sat alone on the woman's side of the mechitza (?). Growing up in a reform synagogue(which is not for me either), we didn't sit separate; so I was very conscious of feeling "alone". Yet, at the same time, because I was alone, there weren't a lot of distractions except for my own wandering thoughts. I don't know if I felt very connected during the little service. I tried to really FEEL what I was reading, but being that I don't speak Hebrew, and read the English translations, I never know if I'm ahead or behind in my reading. :) The other thing that was different is that there wasn't even a minyon (ten men). In some ways, the small feeling is "real", but sitting alone I didn't feel like part of the community. I don't know...I think I need to shul shop and find a place I really really click.

After services I walked with Y to the rabbi's home. Y is a very kind 93 year old man. He lives alone. He takes the bus to shul every shabbos. He walks to and from the rabbi's home to shul/bus. He is really amazing. I offered to take him home after dinner and learned so much about him. First, he was born in 1913. I know he had a wife, assuming she passed. He had a daughter who died from crib death, not sure what year. But most intersting is the story he told me of his "significant" as he called her. She passed away 3 years ago. They were together for 17 years. Her story included something about the fact that she was one of the 300 people who survived jumping from a ship in order to swim to Haifa. I'm not sure of the details except something about the fact that people were immigrating to Palestine and the Brittish still had rule, and in order to reach the "promised land", many jumped and swam ashore. She was pregnant and miscarried while she swam. This is truly an amazing story.

I also was reminded that these three weeks before the holidays are truly special and for reflection. I think I'll be doing a lot of this in the upcoming weeks.