Jews!

With the High Holidays right around the corner, I started looking for a synagogue. The Wertheins, who are Jewish, graciously invited me to their house for a Rosh Hashana dinner, although they aren't very observant, and being that I'm in a foreign place I figured it would make sense for me to find a synagogue.

Since I was hoping to find a somewhat liberal synague, I started at the URJ website and quickly navigated to the World Union for Progressive Judaism, and from there found the only member synagogue in Buenos Aires. It's in Belgrano, about 3 subway stops from my apartment, and from their website it seemed nice.

On Wednesday afternoon I tried just walking in. It was almost as bad as Bologna before Passover 2007, when Jess and I were not only shown the door but then followed around the block by the security guard. This guard made it very clear that I was not allowed to come in, but at least didn't follow me when I left. I was pissed off, but determined, and so I went straight to an internet cafe to find an email address and send someone an email about who I was.

The email was replied to by Thursday morning, along with instructions to return to the synagogue at 6pm to buy tickets for High Holiday services. Now I had a name of a human being, and when I returned to the synagogue and met with similar hostility, I stood my ground, and was eventually allowed in. I spoke to the woman who had emailed me about high holidays, and she advised me to come back on Friday for Shabbat services to get a feel for the community before Rosh Hashana. On the way out I advised the security guards of my impending return, and they took my name to make sure I wouldn't get hassled anymore.

So, that brings us to Friday. I had no idea what to expect for services last night, but now that I went I know I picked the right temple to jump into while I'm here in BA. The rabbi, who reminded me of Greg Eskin from WVMS Jazz Band, was not a day older than 35 and had hair well past his shoulders. Rabbi Ale welcomed me warmly, and since I was about a half an hour early, we chatted for a few minutes as people slowly trickled in. He was really excited to have me, and wanted to make sure I had a family to eat with on Rosh Hashana and promised to introduce me to a few of the people my age.

I also chatted with the father of one of the Bat Mitzvah girls, who was clearly not used to being in synagogue, but convinced me that of all the synagogues this is the one he prefers. His family all looked remarkably familiar, as if they had been picked up out of the Main Line and dropped into this synagogue. I sat in front of a lady and her 12-year old daughter who chatted me up for a while before the service, and invited me to their house for holiday meals.

Dress code among the congregation (which was packed; I was told on behalf of the fact that there were 3 b'nei mitzvot today and it's the last Shabbat of the Jewish year) was casual at best, most men wore open necked button-down shirts and some of the kids wore jeans and sneakers.

The service itself was wonderful, if not a bit concert-y, and was 100% musically accompanied. I knew I was in the right place when in the front of the sanctuary I saw no less than 3 bongo drums, along with wireless microphones and an electric keyboard. These are no shomershabboses. They began with about a half an hour's worth of Kabbalat shabbat, the singing of 6 different melodies culminating with L'cha Dodi, a tradition I understand and am accostomed to thanks to the hard work of Max Chaiken, and even recognized a few of the melodies. The rest of the liturgy, barchu, sh'ma, etc, went by fairly quickly, and the whole thing was probably about an hour and 15 minutes. One thing I really thought was cool was that they all get up and dance during L'cha Dodi, the prayer to welcome the Sabbath. It was as if they really felt that Shabbat was a full day, something to be excited to be welcoming, instead of considering the service itself to be the full extent of Shabbat as is often the case in our home synagogues. They also included the kiddush and the birkat hamishpachah (family blessings) in the service, at which point everyone stood up and got into little family huddles while they prayed. Fortunately for me, the mother and daughter behind me forced me into their circle.

I left shortly after the service ended, but I'll be back. With the schedule as it is here, dinner not before 10 on a Friday, I might just make a habit out of going to services. And I'm glad to have a real synagogue to pray in for the High Holidays, even if saying so is going to give my mom uncontrollable nachus.