It was a dark and stormy night. You had a sinking feeling, like the evening was going to drop in to gloom and depression. Your apartment was a wreck, it had been days since you touched a broom. You chastised yourself over this. "What a no goodnik," you said to the bathroom mirror. But in truth you had not been completely idle for two days... you had been talking on the phone to a childhood friend. And there was a Torahmate lesson in there as well, by phone. Esther had finished the first Parshah, ending with Ugum and Chava, otherwise known as Adam and Eve. "And so God punished the snake, by cutting off his feet so he would have to crawl on his belly. And Ugum he reduced in size. He HAD been a big big man. Huge, but after he committed sin he was only 12 feet tall." You had been stunned by that lesson. All your life you had never known these odd facts. The snake had feet? God cut them off? You did not mention to Esther what it reminded you of... that awful thing that happened in your neighborhood. But maybe she remembered that too, and ended the conversation. "So next week we'll start going a little quicker, the stories are pretty straight forward now; Abraham and Isaac and Noah and so forth."
After you hung up, you had your late night Hebrew class on the phone. Esther the Hebrew teacher is much crisper than Esther the TorahMate, and she puts up with no questions or nonsense but gets right to work. "Read line five" she said almost immediately. "Ah. AwBa. Bah. Rah Raw."
"Good! Now line six,.."
"I wanted to ask you," you said, "If Hebrew was added to in the 1950's... if a Rabbi invented words in Hebrew for modern words that we use now... did that include the planets or did they already have Hebrew names? For instance, Mercury is Kaspit. or maybe it was Shel Kaspit. Was that a new word or was that an old Hebrew word?"
Esther the Hebrew teacher said she did not know. "This is not a linguistics lesson," she said.
"No," you agreed.
"This is a crash course in Hebrew so you can read the prayers. That's all. You don't even have to understand the words. You just have to be able to read them."
"I see," you said. "I did not know that. I thought it was to teach Hebrew."
"It IS to teach Hebrew. But it's not to understand every little thing. Look at your pamphlet. It is called A CRASH COURSE IN HEBREW. That's what it is." Esther the Hebrew teacher has no time for queries or interesting theories. She does not want to answer questions. She appears to resent you at times. She can often sound like she is ready to explode. This is not unusual, you have noticed. Several other Orthodox women have seemed very put out by your wonder and your wondering. You begin line six.
"Mi Ma Maw Abaw Baw." Then you tell Esther the Hebrew teacher that you are very grateful to her for teaching you and giving you so much of her time. She sounds somewhat molified and urges you to repeat the last line, and to make it sound like a question.
It was a dark and blustery windy chilly night. It was the eve of Simchas Torah. You say the name of the holiday several times out loud to yourself while making a sandwich. "simchas Torah. Simchas Torah. Toi-rah. Simchas Toy-rah." It sounded like a character from a Beatrix Potter story. Simchas Torah the cat looked up and meowed.
The night was gloomy and you were afraid you would get unahppy if you stayed in your messy apartment. So you put on your jewish appropriate clothing: long skirt, stockings, long sleeved high neck shirt, green rubber rain boots, black long sweater, green long coat. And you drove off in the direction of the Bobovs which come to think of it you had just been reading about... And didn't you just watch a movie on YouTube of the Bobover rebbe? He had been praying and singing and crying. And the responses to it were mixed. Some Youtubers said he was faking it, and others were violently upset by that and wrote that he was a Saint and was NOT faking it. They all had Bobover YouTube names like "BoboHobo" and "RebbeGuy". Anyway, you had liked the crying Bobover Rebbe, only because he was so wonderfully peculiar. He sobbed when he prayed, and his voice caught and he couldn't go on, and then he would wipe his nose and all the black hats around him began to chant in unison. And yet, some of them checked their cell phones right in the middle of all that. It was very peculiar. You thought this was a heartfelt passionate yearning trance. But if one was in the throws of passionate prayer, was it possible to pull out your phone and see if anyone called during your ecstatic absence? Even so, the Bobover Rebbe was astonishing and you were amazed. You decided that maybe you were a Bobov at heart. "Maybe THAT'S what I am," you thought, feeling like Tigger in Winnie The Pooh.
The dark enveloping stormy night enveloped you as you drove down Ditmas and into the area of the flat hatted Hasidic community. The sidewalks were filled with women pushing double strollers and little girls walking beside their mothers in identical clothing. The men are beautiful, you think to yourself. The women are almost hidden in their appearance, and the children are absolutely darling. The little girls do not jump or dance about. But you don't want to feel sad on Simchas Torah so you push that thought out of your mind...the thought that the little girls long to dance and sing and are not allowed to. You pull up next to a Synagogue at a red light. You roll down your windows. Well, you did. You rolled down your windows, and the sound of joyful singing poured in.
So during the dark night, which was windy but not stormy actually, you sat outside a building and listened to the children and the men singing. After a while you saw a police car approaching and you worried they would ask you what you were doing, sitting in your car alone on a dark and windy night. So you drove on, back the way you came... crossing ocean parkway, and you came apon another synagogue and this one had the windows open and you could see the men dancing in their elegant mink hats, with their sons in their arms. You parked infront of a fire hydrant and stood on the seat of your car with the door open and peered in. And you became swallowed in the music and it went on and on, repeating the same lines until you learned it, and sang it softly outside. You stood there mouthing the words. A young woman came out and invited you in. You left your car and followed her to the balcony. You looked down into the great hall of the synagogue and saw all the men dancing and twirling and hugging the Torah scrolls.
"This is Simchas Torah. Do you see what they are doing?"
"Yes, they are dancing with the Torah Scrolls!"
"Yes they are."
"I see daddy...I want to go down..." You try not to hear that little girl leaning over the balcony in her small long black skirt . "I want to go to daddy..."
Don't we all, you said. But only to yourself.
"We are joyful and praise God for giving us the Torah."
"How wonderful!" you said.
"Do you know Hebrew?"
"I'm learning," you said. You told the young woman your name and she smiled.
"I'm Esther," she said, and you shook hands.
After you hung up, you had your late night Hebrew class on the phone. Esther the Hebrew teacher is much crisper than Esther the TorahMate, and she puts up with no questions or nonsense but gets right to work. "Read line five" she said almost immediately. "Ah. AwBa. Bah. Rah Raw."
"Good! Now line six,.."
"I wanted to ask you," you said, "If Hebrew was added to in the 1950's... if a Rabbi invented words in Hebrew for modern words that we use now... did that include the planets or did they already have Hebrew names? For instance, Mercury is Kaspit. or maybe it was Shel Kaspit. Was that a new word or was that an old Hebrew word?"
Esther the Hebrew teacher said she did not know. "This is not a linguistics lesson," she said.
"No," you agreed.
"This is a crash course in Hebrew so you can read the prayers. That's all. You don't even have to understand the words. You just have to be able to read them."
"I see," you said. "I did not know that. I thought it was to teach Hebrew."
"It IS to teach Hebrew. But it's not to understand every little thing. Look at your pamphlet. It is called A CRASH COURSE IN HEBREW. That's what it is." Esther the Hebrew teacher has no time for queries or interesting theories. She does not want to answer questions. She appears to resent you at times. She can often sound like she is ready to explode. This is not unusual, you have noticed. Several other Orthodox women have seemed very put out by your wonder and your wondering. You begin line six.
"Mi Ma Maw Abaw Baw." Then you tell Esther the Hebrew teacher that you are very grateful to her for teaching you and giving you so much of her time. She sounds somewhat molified and urges you to repeat the last line, and to make it sound like a question.
It was a dark and blustery windy chilly night. It was the eve of Simchas Torah. You say the name of the holiday several times out loud to yourself while making a sandwich. "simchas Torah. Simchas Torah. Toi-rah. Simchas Toy-rah." It sounded like a character from a Beatrix Potter story. Simchas Torah the cat looked up and meowed.
The night was gloomy and you were afraid you would get unahppy if you stayed in your messy apartment. So you put on your jewish appropriate clothing: long skirt, stockings, long sleeved high neck shirt, green rubber rain boots, black long sweater, green long coat. And you drove off in the direction of the Bobovs which come to think of it you had just been reading about... And didn't you just watch a movie on YouTube of the Bobover rebbe? He had been praying and singing and crying. And the responses to it were mixed. Some Youtubers said he was faking it, and others were violently upset by that and wrote that he was a Saint and was NOT faking it. They all had Bobover YouTube names like "BoboHobo" and "RebbeGuy". Anyway, you had liked the crying Bobover Rebbe, only because he was so wonderfully peculiar. He sobbed when he prayed, and his voice caught and he couldn't go on, and then he would wipe his nose and all the black hats around him began to chant in unison. And yet, some of them checked their cell phones right in the middle of all that. It was very peculiar. You thought this was a heartfelt passionate yearning trance. But if one was in the throws of passionate prayer, was it possible to pull out your phone and see if anyone called during your ecstatic absence? Even so, the Bobover Rebbe was astonishing and you were amazed. You decided that maybe you were a Bobov at heart. "Maybe THAT'S what I am," you thought, feeling like Tigger in Winnie The Pooh.
The dark enveloping stormy night enveloped you as you drove down Ditmas and into the area of the flat hatted Hasidic community. The sidewalks were filled with women pushing double strollers and little girls walking beside their mothers in identical clothing. The men are beautiful, you think to yourself. The women are almost hidden in their appearance, and the children are absolutely darling. The little girls do not jump or dance about. But you don't want to feel sad on Simchas Torah so you push that thought out of your mind...the thought that the little girls long to dance and sing and are not allowed to. You pull up next to a Synagogue at a red light. You roll down your windows. Well, you did. You rolled down your windows, and the sound of joyful singing poured in.
So during the dark night, which was windy but not stormy actually, you sat outside a building and listened to the children and the men singing. After a while you saw a police car approaching and you worried they would ask you what you were doing, sitting in your car alone on a dark and windy night. So you drove on, back the way you came... crossing ocean parkway, and you came apon another synagogue and this one had the windows open and you could see the men dancing in their elegant mink hats, with their sons in their arms. You parked infront of a fire hydrant and stood on the seat of your car with the door open and peered in. And you became swallowed in the music and it went on and on, repeating the same lines until you learned it, and sang it softly outside. You stood there mouthing the words. A young woman came out and invited you in. You left your car and followed her to the balcony. You looked down into the great hall of the synagogue and saw all the men dancing and twirling and hugging the Torah scrolls.
"This is Simchas Torah. Do you see what they are doing?"
"Yes, they are dancing with the Torah Scrolls!"
"Yes they are."
"I see daddy...I want to go down..." You try not to hear that little girl leaning over the balcony in her small long black skirt . "I want to go to daddy..."
Don't we all, you said. But only to yourself.
"We are joyful and praise God for giving us the Torah."
"How wonderful!" you said.
"Do you know Hebrew?"
"I'm learning," you said. You told the young woman your name and she smiled.
"I'm Esther," she said, and you shook hands.
Yeah. That's it. Jewish Renewal has the dancing and singing and praising God in ecstasy - and women who are rabbis. The Episcopal Church has the liturgy and the hymns and sometimes the icons - and women who are priests. I miss the incense and lighting the candles and crossing myself a hundred times a service and kissing the icons - even tho' I do all that in Greece and I do cross myself a lot. I love women celebrating the Eucharist more than I miss the Orthodox Church. And when I get to be Eucharistic Minister and I serve the communion wine, I am in ecstasy. Love and more Love.
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