Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Shana tova!

Three posts in one day is a little insane, but this one is more explanation and less photos, and a strikingly different topic than the prior two.

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Celebrating the high holidays in Spain has been an interesting experience. They are definitely not anti-Semetic here — in fact anyone I've talked about the holidays with has been intrigued and wanted to know more. Rather, it's just that the Spanish are unaware of and unaccustomed to Jewish people, which is a strange phenomenon coming from New York. For example: our group trip to the Pyrenees and its perfect correlation with Rosh Hashanah. It was not intended to be that way — the CASB trip directors just didn't know the holiday existed. So we celebrated the new year in our own special and unconventional way: we ate apples and honey on a bus, and threw cookie crumbs into a waterfall.

For Yom Kippur (Or should I say, "Iom Kipur,") we decided to go the more traditional route. (And following Mercè, all the more sin to atone for.) As we learned when visiting the old Jewish Quarter, there are four active synagogues in Barcelona today, and we attended services at the largest of them, Comunidad Israelita de Barcelona. We think it was a conservative temple, though it's not entirely clear. Regardless, it was cool to see the Spanish Jews in action. The synagogue held Ashkenazi and Sephardic services simultaneously, and in both, the men and women were separated.

We went to Kol Nidre last night and morning services today, and here's the key lesson I learned: bring Jews and the Spanish together and you have no chance of starting anywhere even close to on time. The service was largely in Hebrew, but it was amusing to see the prayers I'm familiar with punctuated by "a pie" (stand), "oficiante" (cantor) and a Spanish transliteration that replaced the nasal "ch" sound with a "j." It was also a much more formalized experience — no sermon, less hand-holding and participation, and more direct following of the prayer book. But the crowds were more than happy to gossip and catch up throughout the entire service.

Fasting was a challenge in a country where food is the second religion, but we made it until the end and had our very own breakfast. We replaced noodle pudding with tortilla española, but managed to find the one store in Barcelona that sells bagels. After all, what would Yom Kippur be without bagels, lox and schmear?


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