Celebrating the New Year in a New Place

Rosh Hashanah 5767 will prove to be one of the most memorable of my life. Celebrating a Jewish holiday in Russia is especially tricky when those who identify as Jewish don't even celebrate. Overall, the Jewish community is not religiously affiliated; rather, they prefer the cultural aspects of Judaism. I suspect that holidays such as Chanukah and Purim are more strongly embraced than Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

Since there are only two options for davening in St. Petersburg, Matt and I made a point to share the holiday with both communities. We spent erev Rosh Hashanah and the first day with the progressive (Reform) community, Shaarei Shalom. On Friday night, we hosted our first meal here. We tried to invite some young adults from the community but we found that everyone worked on Friday evenings and could not accept our invitation for an early meal. We hosted two study abroad students, one from England and one from Argentina. It was nice to share the chag with others who were no doubt feeling how we were feeling – far away from home. After dinner, we walked over to YESOD, the Jewish community home where we work, and where the progressive community was congregating. Services began at 7:00 and drew a crowd of 125 or so, including a handful of young families, young professionals, middle aged couples, and a few seniors. After services, there was an amazing kiddush, schmoozing, klezmer (performed by Hillel students) and dancing. The atrium was packed wall-to-wall, the atmosphere was festive, and the energy was infectious.

Not only was this a new place for us to celebrate Rosh Hashanah, YESOD is a new place for the entire community to celebrate the new year. Open for less than a year, this was the first time anyone from the community has heralded the new year at YESOD. Seeing the space used so organically by a home-grown Jewish community really warmed my heart.

Saturday morning at the progressive synagogue on Vassilevsky Island (a 10-minute ride from our apartment) was equally warm and “happy clappy” as the rabbi calls it, but the crowd was far more intimate. About 25 people came for davening, which lasted from 11:00am until 1:30pm – the longest in the community's two-year history! In typical Reform style, we read three aliyot (the reading from the second day of Rosh Hashanah about Akedat Yitzhak) and skipped the haftarah. After services, there was another lovely kiddush where we had a chance to chat with the six other English speakers who were there. We then walked to the Neva River and did a breadless tashlich. At first, I was uncomfortable with the idea of not having bread – the rabbi insisted that I not bring any – but after some reflection, I realized that it forced me to focus on the meaning behind the symbolic tossing of bread instead of the bread itself. It was a new twist on a familiar tradition. As we were standing on the riverbank, a Soviet-era oil tanker pulled into dock, just next to where we were standing – the captain shouting orders to his crew disturbed an otherwise peaceful moment of reflection. It was a distinctively Russian moment.

Across town and across the religious spectrum is the central and magnificent Choral Synagogue, built in 1893, run by Chabad. I arrived at 11:00am to find a scant 30 women sitting upstairs in the huge balcony. The acoustics were tough…the congregation was so dwarfed by the massive size of the traditional Moorish shul. All at once at 11:45, waves of women appeared, as if dropped off by a bus picking up Jews from all around town. Women of all shapes and sizes: Old babuskas, with their colorful handkerchiefs tied over their hair. Young women in jeans, chatting (to my surprise) on their cell phones to others across the synagogue gallery. Young mothers, holding their babies in their arms. Wealthy middle-aged women in pantsuits trimmed with fur. No dress code or behavioral protocol here; it was light-years away from the homogenous crowd I'm used to at home. Few women followed the machzor; instead, they chatted quietly, asking their neighbors questions about what was happening. One elderly woman turned, pointing to the Torah, and asked me what it was. It's astonishing to me that someone who has never seen a Torah would be compelled to come to services on Rosh Hashanah. That really blew my mind. The crowd swelled to at least 200 women in the balcony. I was later told that about 500 men were downstairs at the same time, in addition to two other minyanim that were happening concurrently at the Choral Synagogue. I wondered aloud to my friend Keren (the British exchange student) about how they all knew to come at 11:45. Turns out that Chabad had run ads on local television and in local newspapers indicating that the shofar was going to be blown at 11:40. Fifteen minutes later, when it actually happened, the crowd grew silent and listened intently, leaning forward to capture the shofar blowing, which may be their only Jewish experience of the year. Shortly thereafter, the crowd slowly dwindled. By the end of services at 1:30, there were about 60 women left.

Matt and I enjoyed a festival meal at the home of our boss and his wife. They are the most amazing hosts I've ever encountered in my life; I can only liken them to Abraham and Sarah from the Torah. They fill their home with guests – many of whom speak different languages – week after week, feeding their bodies the most exquisite food and their Jewish souls with stories and songs. I savor the ambiance they create; if I could bottle it, I would. Sitting around their table with Russian Jews of all backgrounds, I realized that this will be a fascinating new year.

With near-70 temperatures and sunny skies, God smiled down on the Jews of St. Petersburg this Rosh Hashanah. From miles away, Matt and I wish you a “sladky, novy got” – a sweet new year!