Seattle 66, or A Gut Yor

Rosh Hashanna, erev: I didn't go to shul. Instead, I hosted dinner for close to 30 people, potluck. It was lovely, and full of challah. Special mention should go to Masha's apricot challah, which she delivered close to the end of the meal, piping hot and sweet as cake. People ate dal (a south Indian dish made of red lentils) with tomatoes, quinoa with dates and apricots and mint, a mashed potato pie with a bubbling crust of cheddar cheese, salads, good wine. I lit candles in the candlesticks I received as a Bat Mitzvah gift - only the second time I've ever used them. Using them makes me feel like an adult; no parent or grandparent's ritual objects take precedence. We drank wine out of teacups when we ran out of glasses.

Rosh Hashanna, day 1: I woke early, pulled on a skirt and long sleeved shirt, and thick-soled boots; it rained all night and I was walking to shul. Met Joel, Tamar, Asya and Carrie at house Bet. Carrie fixed me a bowl of steaming oatmeal with honey, which I gulped down while the others got ready. We walked to shul together, up a giant hill. Good morning exercise. The shul was small, with mixed seating and separate seating for men and women, for any who desired. I sat in the mixed section, the only woman with a tallis. The only woman who sang loud enough to be heard, to harmonize. The singing was minimal; it was an orthodox service. Though the amidot (silent prayers) were long and thoughtful, I felt restless and unfocused. There was no shofar; it was Shabbat. Only men were allowed to read Torah, lead prayers. Joel's singing was beautiful; he led Shachrit, the morning service.

We came home and had a cold lunch, after which I took a very long nap.

Rosh Hashanna, day 2: Decided against doing the orthodox thing again, and instead walked to the conservative shul around the corner. Marched up to the man holding the tickets and said "I don't have tickets, but can I daven anyway?" He shrugged. "Sure, it's not like we don't have room."

After the speed of Orthodox services, the Conservative one seemed agonizingly slow, covering half the material in the same amount of time, but oh, what singing! The service was mostly lay-led by different members of the congregation, each with seemingly more beautiful voices and tunes than the last. And not operatic voices either - clear, strong, songleading voices with good pitch. And women! I realized how important it is that I see women up on the bimah, carrying torahs, leading prayers.

As the service continued, I found myself relaxing into the familiarity of it, the tunes, the machzor (special prayer book for high holy days), the people in attendance - I'm used to medium-sized synagogues with lots of families, even though I don't fit that demographic right now. But by the time the amidah came around, I was calm, focused, really praying. Grateful.

After services, I came home and led a shofar-blowing workshop, since I didn't get to blow shofar for a congregation - first time in ten years! My best student was a seven year old girl who took my shofar off to a corner, spent ten minutes huffing and puffing, then silenced the room with a strong, clear tekiah, looking quite red in the face, and absolutely pleased with herself.