On Rosh Hashanah, it’s BYOM (bring your own machzor)

Rosh Hashanah’s coming, so it’s time for a public service announcement. 

Things here in Israel are NOT the same as they are wherever you come from.  That includes shul on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

You probably won’t need tickets, and I don’t know of any shul in Israel that will kick you out if you haven’t signed up ahead of time, but depending on the shul, they might not have a lot of space for you. 

Also, check around your neighbourhood carefully – the davening (prayer services) is very different in different types of shuls.  And I’m not just talking about Ashkenazi and Sefardi (Mizrachi) shuls. 

Yeshivas, for example, may have a longer, more drawn-out davening that’s enjoyable if you like something more spiritual, while “stam” Israeli shuls may have more of a “get in, get out, get home” type of approach.  Most shuls start at 8 am on yom tov, but the ending time really varies, from 10:30ish across the street from me to as late as 1 or 2 in some places.

(So if you’re expected somewhere for either of the lunch meals, it’s extra important to co-ordinate with your hosts so you get there when they want to start.)

If you’re new to your area, ask around to find out which shul is more likely to offer you the best experience.  That depends, of course, on what your criteria are.  Such as whether you like singing or prefer to avoid it at all costs, like at the shul across the street from me, where any necessary musical touches are grudging at best.

Also, if you’re a woman, ask other women – your experience might be very different from what a man would encounter in the same shul.

One thing you won’t get here that you may or may not be used to – calling out page numbers.  Most Orthodox shuls outside of Israel don’t do this either, but our shul in Toronto did because it had a kiruv (outreach) bent. 

5 surprises when you go to shul in Israel (with a helpful vocabulary list!)

Considering it’s called the Holy Land, and considering that so many of us move here for religious reasons, I guess it’s strange that I haven’t said anything about going to shul before now.

When my sister was here visiting last year, she also mentioned that she’d been all over the place but hadn’t set foot in a shul.

Life in Israel is like that.

Are you wondering what shul will be like when you make aliyah?  Here are 5 things that may surprise you when you finally get there:

1.  It’s not called shul.

This may be obvious to you, but then, you’re probably smarter than me.  Smart enough to put two and two together and realize that Ashkenazim like me, and our quaint Yiddish expressions, are not in the majority here.  (Us Ashkenazim tend to see the world through Ashkenaz-coloured lenses.)

Shul here is known as בית כנסת / beit knesset.  Everybody calls it that – even Ashkenazim.

Which is another thing, by the way:  in Canada, I grew up thinking of the Jewish world as divided into Ashkenaz and Sefardi.  It turns out we’re the only ones who call them Sefardim.  Here in Israel, these “eastern” / southern Jews are better known as “eidot hamizrach,” or “mizrachi” (which means eastern, go figure).

But within that “Sefardi” realm, there are so many different types of – uh-oh – shuls.  Just within a couple of blocks of here are Moroccan, Tunisian and Yemenite shuls.  Whereas, since we’re a minority, Ashkenazim tend to have the local “Ashkenaz” shul, and not have as much of a choice.  We’re black and white; they’re a whole entire rainbow.

And the truth is, if you accidentally say shul, everybody will know what you’re talking about.  I don’t even think you’ll offend anybody.  But that’s not what they call it.

Is there a prayer when you make aliyah?

Given that there are prayers and brachot for just about every occasion in Jewish life, wouldn’t you think there would be one for when you move to Israel, one of the most important mitzvot in the Torah? 

What about visiting Israel?  It’s said that every 4 amos (cubits) you walk in the land of Israel is equivalent to every mitzvah of the Torah… so why don’t we make a bracha before we do it?

The closest that I found was this page wherein a visitor asks if there’s a “mi sheberach” for aliyah – the long monotonic intonation of blessings when a person’s called up to the Torah on a specific occasion. 

And what do you know?

It turns out there is. 

Originally written in 1948, here’s the full text in Hebrew (original source here):

מי שבירך אבותינו הקדושים והטהורים אברהם יצחק ויעקב משה ואהרן דוד ושלמה הוא יברך וישמור וינצור כל אחינו בני ישראל אנשים ונשים וטף זקנים וצעירים ההולכים בים וביבשה ובאוירון לעלות לארץ אבותינו.

מלך מלכי המלכים ברחמיו ישמרם ויחיים, ומכל צרה וניזק יצילם. מלך מלכי המלכים ברחמיו יבטל מעליהם ומעלינו כל גזירות קשות ורעות, ויגזור עליהם ועלינו גזירות טובות, ויגיעם למחוז חפצם לשלום ויאריכו ימים על אדמת הקודש. מלך מלכי המלכים ברחמיו יקרב גאולתינו ועלייתנו לארצנו ונבלה שם ימינו בטוב ובחירות על התורה ועל העבודה. ובא לציון גואל וכן יהי רצון ונאמר אמן.

With the help of Google Translate, here is (loosely) what it means:

May the One Who blessed our holy and pure ancestors, Abraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, Moshe, Aaron, David and Shlomo, bless and keep and save all our brethren the Children of Israel; men and women and children, young and old; those who are travelling by sea, by land or by air, to ascend to the Land of our ancestors. 

May the King of Kings in His mercy keep them and sustain them, and from every misfortune or harm rescue them.  May the King of Kings, in His mercy annul from over them and from over us all harsh and evil decrees, and pass over them and over us decrees for good, grant their desires for peace and lengthen their days upon the Holy Land.  May the Kind of Kings in His Mercy bring near our redemption and our own ascent to our Land and we will enjoy there our days in good and freedom through Torah and our efforts.  [As it is written,] “And a redeemer will come to Zion,” and so it shall be his will… and let us say, Amen.

Those are definitely some sentiments to get behind.  What was true in 1948, both about the dangers and about the effort that it takes to build this land, is still very much true today.

If you happen to be part of a shul with a creative-thinking gabbai, it might be worth handing him a copy of this text a couple of days before your last Shabbos in your (current) hometown.

True, we may not technically NEED a prayer for aliyah when the Land of Israel is the central longing of every single Jewish prayer already.  On the other hand, it’s a special endeavour, so it just feels right, perhaps, to mark it in a Jewish way.

Certainly, I can’t imagine a more-than-fitting send-off… than having your current spiritual home send you off in style to our people’s spiritual homeland.

What do you think?

Tzivia / צִיבְיָה

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