|
Imagine, if you will, the War Veterans Room at the JCC in St. Paul on a Shabbat morning in 1986. The diverse population attending services evolved due to the merger of the Sons of Jacob Congregation, a “traditional” shul, with a primarily elderly population, and the New Conservative Congregation, that included young families, both committed to fostering the growth of a new dynamic, engaged and traditional egalitarian Jewish community.
One of the many “characters” of this newly minted congregation was Sam Saide. Sam was a Holocaust survivor who had experienced the horrors of Auschwitz, and was resettled in St. Paul, along with other survivors. As a lay leader at Sons of Jacob, he was the gabbai, ran the services, read Torah and was a “ben bayit”, someone who could be called upon for ritual assistance. In addition to assuming many of these responsibilities in the new congregation, Sam took it upon himself to set up vases of (plastic) flowers each Shabbat at the JCC. He also set out the sweets for kiddush each week, and was a constant presence in the life of the shul.
Sons of Jacob Congregation was not part of the shift to egalitarian ritual practices for both men and women. The women of Sons of Jacob were involved in the kitchen and the Sisterhood, which served an important role in the life of the synagogue. In the merger discussions to form the fledgling shul, the agreement was that ritual participation would be equally accessible to men and women. This was a huge paradigm shift for many Sons of Jacob leaders, who were not yet comfortable with this model, but wanted to ensure the survival of their congregational legacy.
When we moved to St. Paul, I joined the very small cohort of women who read Torah on a regular basis. At the time, I had not adopted the practice of covering my head in shul, which much upset Sam. He felt strongly that if I was to chant the Torah reading, I should also wear a head covering. I understood his concerns and also his discomfort, so at that point I did adopt the practice of covering my head in shul.
As the membership grew, increasing numbers of women learned how to chant the Torah readings. Sam often served as gabbai, and would chant along with the assigned reader, to the dismay of many.
Gradually Sam made his peace with the inclusion of women in ritual practice at Beth Jacob. As the years passed, Sam read Torah less and less frequently. However he held a “chazakah” (ownership/right) to the Maftir Torah reading on the High Holydays. Typically he would chant this reading in the fashion that he had learned in Poland, not in the trope pattern that we use today, which has a special melody for the High Holydays. I also had readings on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur - my “chazakahs”. I, however, had learned the special trope.
Finally, one summer, Sam approached me in shul to ask if I thought that he could learn the special cantillation for the High Holydays. I was so touched that he felt that he could reach out to me, and that he wanted to try. I made a cassette tape for him, and brought it over to his home.
On Rosh Hashanah, he came forward to chant his reading. It was clear that he had worked very hard to learn the trope patterns. He was so proud of himself, and I was so touched. Our relationship had come a long way since the days at the JCC with the newly minted joint community. The mutual respect and understanding that developed over the years was not a “given.” Beth Jacob was nurtured over time by the relationships that developed, recognition of the importance of being in community together, and the sharing of experiences.
Phyllis Gorin
| 
