Impersonal space

I am frequently amazed how life, the Universe (or it's Master) is so clever in the way in which it makes it's point on us. You, deal with this. A booming voice from the heavens, heard in the silence of my head.

This year the High Holy Day services are being held in a place in which I never thought I would pray again. A Christian church. Presbyterian, to be exact. The building is tall and hollow. It was built in 1928 I believe, the same year as Wilshire Blvd. Temple, which is just down the street. The architecture is subdued, and Elizabethan-esque. The dark wood - of what has been transformed into a bimah - is welcoming and restful. Tall stained glass windows depicting christ, saints, and stories of jesus' life cast a gentle glow on our heads as we sit in the hard-seated pews. The tiles floor makes escape to the bathroom a noisy affair.

I haven't had any sort of conversation with life, the Universe (or it's Master) in the walls of a church for many many years. And never in Hebrew. It was not the easiest of things to do with any comfort. I took a great deal of effort to block out being in a Christian space. I battled with a great deal of conflicting impulses in the time I spent at Immanuel.

I went to check the place out on Friday, during the day, as to assess the space for my prayer needs. Being Presbyterian it is naturally devoid of excessive decoration in the way of images. No iconography, save the glass stories. Central however, above the altar, and carved wood choir stall, and the dark tongue-n-groove paneling; three tall windows. The center the friendly, blonde, blue-eyed, smiling 20-something christ. Flanking him two windows depicting worshiping angels with trumpet and cymbal - christ triumphant.

Yes, not the most delightful discovery.

But as we placed the traveling aron, the matching lecterns, the assorted microphonography, music stands, et al the space began to change and fold into it's Jewish self. Then we unwrapped the silver adornments; the rimmonim and breastplates, and lovingly dressed the seferi Torah. After we put the respectfully into the aron, we made ourselves available as general workers to set up the rest of the sanctuary.

This too, eased my spirit into the space, little by little. As did each display set up, and each design and aesthetic point noted. By the end there was a space that I felt I knew, and had a hand in constructing.

Erev went well. I felt a bit out of sorts, having worked hard setting up, and having little time to prepare myself, let alone talk to the boy. I secured seats, made greetings to friends, and was joined by the boy's Dad and his wife, as well as another friend who wanted a change of spiritual scene this year.

She is a great lady. We share a similar theology as far as the enjoyment of imagery, and emphasis on Holiness being by it's nature, Loving. We stood reading aloud together, and I reading the Hebrew for her, with voices that were serious about, and engaged in the business of prayer.

The rabbi pushed us hard to invest in Israel bonds. To the point where I seriously want us to do it with some of the house money. Even if the return is modest, I now think it to be one of the best way for Americans to help build Israel up after the war.

Rosh Ha'Shana morning was quite lovely. While the glass was fully "alight" and christ's eyes were, indeed, the most incredible blue I have ever seen, I was able to enter my Jewish prayer self.

Looking into christ's eyes, I realized the danger in images. They really serve only to meet human needs. The need to be in adoration of the human form, is as significant in image-utilizing religion as in any muscle magazine.

But I was able to move beyond it.

Yesterday, and today I blew the shofar. Nerves aside, it was an uplifting expensive (I'll write about it separately, I think).