Wherever You Go

I'm splitting my South Africa blog up into a few sections. This happened the night of Feb 20 2009 (mere hours before I wrote this). I have not yet posted a blog for everything that has happened up to now, I just needed to write this down as fast as possible.

A friend of mine named Kara on the ship suggested we go to a Friday night Shabbat service at a nearby synagogue. We went. And got a lot more than we expected. And I say that in a good way.

We took a cab to the shul, the Cape Town Congregation, which is in the middle of a gardens type area near a church and a mosque and a building where they used to sell slaves. When we got there the security guard was shaking hands with everyone who entered, wishing everyone a good Shabbas. He stopped us and asked us a few questions about who were are, where we're from, why we're here, if we're Jewish, etc. He told us that we can stay for the dinner after the service and that he'll call us a cab when it's over. It turned out to be an Orthodox shul, so Kara went to sit upstairs and I sat downstairs, after being given a bright orange yarmulke.

I opened the small Shabbat notebook and recognized many of the prayers. I'm not from an Orthodox background so some of it was way over my head, but I was able to follow along quite well. The shul wasn't laid out like my synagogue at home, with all of the pews facing the same way towards the bima. Here, it was more in a round style, like a Safardic synagogue in Tsfat that I saw last year. In the middle was the cantor who was singing while he conducted the choir of men that surrounded him in a horseshoe shape. Their harmonies were intricate and their sound rich. Every once in a while I picked up a melody that I recognized and sung along. I was wished good Shabbas by everyone around me, even though they had no idea who I was.

During the service I was almost brought to tears a few times, not only because of the music, but because I am probably the farthest away from home I have ever been and I'm surrounded by Jews, acting just like every other Jew I have ever met, singing the same songs and praying the same prayers that Jews all over the world have been singing and praying for over 2000 years.

The Rabbi's sermon related to Facebook. He said he signed up and went to the “Friends”tab and it said 'YOU HAVE NO FRIENDS.” He spoke about how in Judaism, you don't measure your worth by other people, but how good you are to others and how righteous you are to yourself. His sermon was not a Facebook bashing thing, he just used it as a point of entry. He also mentioned Google in his sermon, so I sat there thinking, “Here I am, in an Orthodox synagogue in South Africa, listening to a Rabbi talking about Facebook, Google, and the Torah.” He struck me as a very modern-type fellow. I later learned that he is only 27 years old.

After the service I met back up with Kara and we met some elderly folk who were happy to hear about Semester at Sea and how we like Cape Town. We waited in line to meet the Rabbi, and we were subsequently invited back to his house for Shabbas Dinner.

Walking, of course, to the Rabbi's house was a short distance, and we were accompanied by a security guard, to whom the Rabbi tipped some apples (and maybe money, I only saw him carry apples out of his house.) His house was behind a gate, and was beautiful. It was in sharp contrast to the township style of living that I have seen. His name is Oshy, his wife is Sarah and he has a little baby.

Upon entering, we were greeted with a room full of people we had never seen before, getting ready to gather around an immaculately set table. We exchanged names and introductions, and I accidentally shook one of the ladies' hands, blanking for a minute that in Orthodox Judaism, men and women aren't supposed to touch. I don't remember whose hand I shook but if you're reading this, I sincerely apologize and meant no offense.

Rabbi Oshy himself hand-chose where each person sat around the table, himself at the head, of course, and Sarah to his left. I felt like we were picking teams in the schoolyard for a baseball game. For the most part I mimicked what everyone else was doing, how they sat in their chairs, etc, so I didn't accidentally do something inappropriate.

Around the table were the Rabbi, his wife, friends, relatives, (I apologize for not remembering everyone's name, if you are reading this. I remember maybe half and didn't want to be unfair to those I don't remember) and two travelers from the United States.

We sang a little bit, did Kiddish and handwashing and Challah before sitting down. And then the food came out and the conversations began.

As I learned here, a Jewish household in South Africa does not differ all that much from a Jewish household in the United States. Or France. Or Israel. In fact, I have now celebrated Shabbat in four different countries. Awesome.

During the first course I ate breaded fish as well as salmon. Yes mom, fish. Oshy asked us each to go around and say a profound Jewish memory about a time, place, camp, persona, anything. The man to my right, Ray, a phenomenally interesting man told a story about when he was in Tsfat, a city in Israel, a man with a Rabbinic look to him helped him carry a heavy load up a hill, on the eve of Rosh Hashannah. After the man left, he was told that this man was the Chief Rabbi in Tsfat, who possibly made himself late to his service to help another Jew in need.

I told a story about camp and how much I grew and learned there and how I have affected others there and how they have affected me.

A woman named Sam and her sister Jody (Sorry if I spelled it wrong) told a story about how they went to Israel and saw a large group of special needs kids at the Western Wall. Another story was told about how an 83 year old woman on a trip to Lithuania (maybe Latvia, don't remember the details) found her house, a place she hadn't been to since she was 12. She had escaped the Nazis, and when she found her house, she said she could die happy that day because she always wanted to come back and tell Hitler than she has a Jewish daughter and Jewish grandkids.

The main course was meat and was excellent! The whole thing was prepared by Sarah herself. As time went on I didn't need to mimic behavior anymore because the room had transformed from a room full of strangers to me to a room full of Jews about whom I already knew a lot because we're all Jews, and having that in common is an unbreakable bond.

After the main course I had a glass of wine and dessert was brought out and was, you guessed it, really good. Nothing except the salad at the beginning had any nuts, so I was completely safe and didn't have to awkwardly decline anything.

Just like at my grandparent's houses after a big meal, the conversations migrated to the couch, where we sat for a while chatting about each others' lives. Then came the prayers for after the meal, some more conversation, and the goodbyes.

Sam and Jody drove me and Kara I back to the ship. Sure beats a taxi. We gave our names for Facebook purposes as well as our blogs in case they want to track our travels.

Both Kara and I felt like we were at home. Jews are Jews, no matter where you go. It's really true, wherever you go, there's always someone Jewish. What started out as “let's check out the service and then grab dinner with friends” turned into a 5 hour night of Judaism and getting to know South African Jews. I learned how similar Jews really are everywhere in the world. The unconditional acceptance and the value of “welcoming the stranger” were apparent in this group, and I would undoubtedly do the same for any Jewish traveler who showed up at my synagogue.

So, friends, if you are reading this, thank you for making my stay in Cape Town that much better, and thank you for letting me into your lives for a brief evening.