Story of the Day 3/ 19/ 2011

It was a long day, and that was all before 11 A.M.
I say that because by that time I had already run into my third story of the day, while sitting down in synagogue.
Services start at 8:30. Not that I would ever get there by 8:30. I aim for 9:30, but , today, it was probably closer to 10 , by the time I arrived and had slid into my seat.

Sarah stood up.
Well, she didn’t stand up, she just hadn’t sat down. This is because she was signing over the mehitzah to her brother. A mehitza is a divider in traditional synagogues between the section where the men sit and the section where the women sit.
Ours is about shoulder height and not taken very seriously. People stand on either side and chat- or kiss cheeks, or just got to the back and walk through to the other section, but if you are sitting down, it does block your view.
So, Sarah was standing and signing to her brother. We had arrived just in time for the Torah reading and, since they both find it rather dull to sit and “listen” while the Torah is read aloud, they usually disappear to another room where they sit and chat.
But, Aaron told her, he was going to stay in the room today, because Larry told him that it was a very special reading, this week, and it was important to hear it.
Sarah listened to her brother signing this to her, and responded, “but you are deaf?”
“It is the thought that counts.”


Sarah resigned herself to sitting with me.
I thought she had fallen asleep, and maybe she had, but about 15 minutes later, she asked me, “Do you like music?”
Now, I wasn’t quite sure what she meant.
You see, in ASL, the word for music is the same as the word for singing. I don’t play any instruments, so it was narrowed down to listening or singing.
I asked, “Do you mean listening to music like on the radio?”
She said no, she meant signing.
“Yes, I like to sing, but no one likes to be around me when I am singing.”
Sarah gave me a big smile, and told me “You can sing for me!”
Hey, it is the best offer I am ever going to have!


Now, at some point in the service, Bill Levy stands at the front – which, in our synagogue is the middle, and makes announcements.
There were two, one for the sisterhood meeting, next week Sunday, and one for NCAA night.
However, a voice from the crowd asked about services, tonight.
Tonight is the start of the holiday of Purim.
Bill explained that they were at 9.
This caused some confusion, and the guy who acts as the rabbi, went up and explained about how we have to make sure Shabbat is over and what time we can do that and what time we can start the evening service.
And a voice from the crowd told him that the synagogue across the street does it at a different time.
This voice came from a guy who regularly attends that “place across the street” which is how we usually refer to it.

He comes to us, as do several of the members of that synagogue, on a week when they have an annoy- although they don’t call I that. An annyo is an anniversary of a loved one’s death.
The other synagogue is bigger, and more formal, and the same select people get the honors, every week.
At our smaller, very informal and definitely low-rent place (despite the gorgeous building that most of us still consider a miracle almost on a par with the parting of the red sea) , an honor or an aliyah or anything else can be had for the asking by anyone who shows up, regardless of their “status”, their garb or their monetary donations or lack thereof.

Basically, we do require them to be breathing.

Anyhow, this guy didn’t get the fact that he was not in his regular synagogue, and he again said,”“ They said that Shabbat ends at a different time.”
Our semi-rabbi again said what time we end it at.

And this man argued about what time the rabbi on the other side of the street said it was.

A slight pause and then “ Well that time is for the white people. This is the Sephardic synagogue.”

The rest of us managed to not laugh. Aloud, that is.