Kaballat Shabbat behind the Mechitza and under the Moon

One of my friends suggested that we check out a synagogue in our neighborhood for Friday night services.  It was an orthodox congregation, with a mechitza (the divider between men and women's sides), but he said the services were spirited and fun, and I was curious to get a taste of a traditional service.

We arrived and split up, the men going in one entrance, and the women around the back.  We entered a room with a high mechitzah, separating the women's section from the men's.  The women were sitting silently as the men prayed.  This did not bode well.  Luckily, we soon realized that our male friends were not up front.  We were thrilled (or at least I was) to find that this was not the right service.  We went upstairs, and found another room with a mechitza.  This one ran down the middle, but the prayer leader was on the men's side.  It was hot, and there were no open seats.  I struggled to find our place in the siddur (prayerbook).  I was happy to see the women singing and praying audibly this time, but except for the times when I recognized a familiar tune, I was adrift.

Then, the unthinkable happened.  The lights went out.  Had someone leaned on the switch?  If so, we were stuck, because no one in that room was going to admit being willing to flip the switch back on after Shabbat had begun.  Since it was too dark to follow the siddur, many of the women walked outside, where there was still some light.  (The men stayed inside in the dark.  Go figure).

That's when the magic began for me.  The moon was bright and visible through the clouds, which were turning pink and drifting across the sky.  We could see a star peeking through here and there.  All around us were the sounds of people singing to welcome Shabbat.  It was wonderful to actually see evening fall.  Shabbat was arriving in a tangible, visible way.  Then the lights went back on, and many women went back inside.  I stayed outside for awhile though, not wanting to give up the breeze and the freedom.

All in all, the service was not my cup of tea.  But I'm glad I went, in part because it shows me just how far I have to go in being able to skillfully pray the traditional service.  I hope to go back at the end of the year and see if it feels different, or less foreign.

Next on my list is Shira Chadasha, and orthodox feminist congregation, which requires 10 women as well as 10 men to form a minyan, and which allows women to read Torah.  I hear the mechitza is lower, too. I'll be curious to see if that experience feels different, and less alienating.  Or whether it's like yoga, and the first 10 times are just going to seem awkward and uncomfortable no matter what.

Stay tuned!