6 Culture Shocks in a Conservative Synagogue

Hello all! Hope those who celebrate Chanukah are getting excited! This is my first foray into a list-style blog post as seen on your favourite click-bait sites, but has somehow managed to be the longest post I’ve written so far. But don’t let that put you off – hope you enjoy!

Last Saturday morning, I stood at the front of the synagogue my husband and I attend here in Kansas City, chanting from the week’s portion of the Torah. It’s something I love to do, but just a few years ago this would not even have been an option for me. Whereas my current shul belongs to the Conservative movement, which encourages equal participation by men and women in services, I grew up praying in Orthodox synagogues, where men and women sat separately and only men were allowed to lead services and read from the Torah. Whenever I attend a Conservative synagogue, I’m still struck by the ways differences in practice and outlook such as this shape the culture of the services, even though much of the liturgy is identical to that of most UK Orthodox synagogues. In other words, while I may on the whole feel at home in my new community, there are times when I still feel like a ‘stranger in a strange land’. Here are some of the ‘culture shocks’ I have experienced:

1. On your Toes

As a spiritually-minded teenager growing up in an Orthodox synagogue, my usual spot in the women’s section was somewhere near the back, close to the wall. I liked to retreat into my own little world, concentrating on the prayers and trying to avoid distractions. I could do this with relatively little fear of interruption, because there was no possibility that I would be ‘called up’ to say the blessings over the Torah or receive other honours such as hagbah (lifting the Torah scroll to display it to the congregation) or gelilah (‘dressing’ the scroll in its decorative cover after reading). Because not much is usually expected of women in terms of participation in services, there’s actually a certain amount of freedom to do our own thing, whether that’s praying on our own or chatting with friends. However, in a Conservative synagogue, there’s always a chance, no matter how small, that I might be called upon in front of the whole congregation, so I get to feel that sense of slight nervousness and anticipation when the Torah service rolls around…

 

2. Shake on it

And so, we find ourselves on the bimah (‘stage’ for leading services at the front of the synagogue). Whilst I’ve been participating in egalitarian services for a few years now, I still feel a little uncertain whenever I’m up there, because on some level, it’s not a space in which I am used to belonging. Take, for instance, the Ashkenazi custom of congratulating someone on being called to the Torah with a hearty handshake and the words yashar koach (basically wishing someone strength). As a child, this always seemed a very ‘masculine’ thing to do, enforcing the idea of the bimah as a sort of boys’ club where women had no place. So much so that later, when the opportunity presented itself, it did not even occur to me that the polite thing to do would be to shake the hand of the person who had been called up before me. When this was pointed out to me, I felt like I’d made a faux pas to say the least. And while we’re on the subject of shaking hands…

 

3. The Magic Touch

Many Orthodox Jews follow a practice known as shomer negiah (‘guarding one’s touch’), which means abstaining from physical contact of any kind with members of the opposite sex apart from one’s spouse or close relatives. This means that I would never offer to shake hands with an Orthodox rabbi (the vast majority of whom are male), as doing so might cause embarrassment or offense. In communities where many congregants are not actually ‘shomer’, this can also lead to a kind of game of chicken after services in which two people have a matter of seconds to try to work out if each can shake the other person’s hand! The synagogue I attend now leans towards the more traditional, ‘Conservadox’ end of the Conservative spectrum, and the rabbi could easily pass for Modern Orthodox in his appearance and observance. Imagine my surprise, then, when upon meeting for the first time, he offered his hand straightaway! Whilst initially this felt strange, I’m now more used to being in a religious environment where a handshake, to paraphrase Freud, is just a handshake.

4. A Woman’s Voice

If ever you should find yourself in a synagogue that follows traditional Hebrew liturgy, chances are you’ll be struck by the melodious (or not so melodious) chanting and singing of congregants as they join in with the prayers. In Orthodox synagogues, since men and women sit separately and men generally take a more active role in services (coupled with the traditional prohibition on men hearing women singing for reasons of modesty), the voices you hear are more likely to be male. Growing up, this gave services a distinctly masculine flavour. In services where men and women participate equally, and where often women are more likely to turn up than men, it follows that you’re more likely to hear women’s voices as part of the ‘soundtrack’. This subtly alters the general feel of the services (or at least it does for me), reminding me that my voice, too, has a place there.

 

 

5. To Cover or not to Cover?

What people choose to wear to synagogue varies greatly even within denominations, and even within individual communities. That said, most shuls have a basic standard when it comes to dressing, whether that means black hats or jeans. In the UK, it’s very normal for married ladies to cover their heads in Orthodox synagogues for reasons of modesty, even if they don’t do so every day. In the USA, this is less common across the religious spectrum, and is definitely a rarity in Conservative synagogues; you’re more likely to see a woman in a kippah (skullcap traditionally worn by men) than a hat, wig or headscarf. I grew up expecting that I would cover at least part of my hair in synagogue once I got married and today, doing so helps me to feel like a grown-up, married lady (or at least the married part). While I try to keep my head coverings stylish and modern-looking (Saturday’s sparkly headband was greatly admired by a four-year-old), the air of being frum (very religious, usually in an Orthodox way) that they give me can sometimes make me feel like I’ve just stepped out of a production of Fiddler on the Roof. Not that I mind being seen as different; it’s just that covering my hair serves as a further reminder that the religious culture in which I was raised is no longer the norm here.

 

6. Just Drive

I grew up in the United Synagogue, the main Orthodox denomination in the UK. Orthodoxy is the largest Jewish denomination in Britain, so if people go to synagogue at all, even if it is only once a year, it will usually be to an Orthodox synagogue. Within the United Synagogue, this means that most members aren’t especially observant, even though the organisation itself is run according to a strict interpretation of halachah (Jewish law). For example, driving on the Sabbath is traditionally prohibited as a form of work, but many members of Orthodox synagogues don’t see it as such and have no problem driving to synagogue. However, many are still embarrassed lest the more observant members of the congregation (particularly the Rabbi) notice their transgression, leading to the widely observed phenomenon known as ‘parking round the corner’. In the USA, there’s generally less anxiety over not appearing observant. I’ve even heard a Modern Orthodox rabbi in Baltimore assure his flock that everyone walks to synagogue – it’s just that some people walk from their homes, and some walk from the parking lot! I’m still getting used to the size of synagogue car parks over here, and am still slightly amazed at how people at my shul just rock up to services in their cars like it ain’t no thing.

 

So there you have it. In some ways, moving to a Conservative Jewish community has been as much of a cultural shift as moving to the United States. To all you lovely readers out there, have you ever experienced culture shock when encountering a different religious denomination from the one you were raised in? What differences did you notice? Feel free to comment below!