Although I attended Hebrew School and Confirmation classes
in my youth, some of my most profound lessons about what it means to be Jewish
have come to me as an adult.
My husband David and I love foreign
travel and always try to visit a synagogue on our trips.
In 1984, we
managed to locate a shul in Delhi, India, when our cab driver finally understood
our request and took us to "The New York Times Church." Serving a small Jewish
population and doubling as the New Delhi Philharmonic's rehearsal hall, the
shul's tranquil interior felt strangely familiar, even though it was situated on
a noisy street teeming with pedaled rickshaws and wandering animals.
Some years later, Greek locals directed us through a village, seeking
the one elderly woman who kept the key to a threadbare, but still beautiful
shuttered synagogue in Rhodes. As the afternoon sunlight streamed onto the worn
wooden seats, I could envision Jewish families like my own praying and
celebrating together through the generations.
I will also always
remember the time that I begged my way into a heavily secured temple that was
off limits to visitors in Sydney, Australia following terrorist threats. When I
explained my need to recite Kaddish for my father's Yahrtzeit; the rabbi warmly
greeted us into the ornate, gilded, 100-year-old sanctuary as though we were
long lost cousins and davened with me.
These experiences and others
have taught me and my children that, wherever we are in the world, our Jewish
identity binds us together as a community and offers us an oasis of comfort,
familiarity and welcome.
By Myra
Lurie
These stories are
brought to you by the Temple Emanuel RE-IMAGINE project, an 18-month initiative
sponsored by Hebrew Union College, devoted to re-thinking and re-structuring our
religious school.
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