חג ראש השנה בבאר שבע

I spent Rosh Hashanah (חג ראש השנה) with the first of my adoptive families here in Be'er Sheva. It was awesome to meet such a warm, welcoming family who didn't seem to mind that I looked NOTHING like them. My family, after all, are Timanim, which means they are Jews from Yemen. I think I was as delighted to meet them as they were to meet me (or at least, I hope that's the case)!

The family was very surprised at how excited I was to meet Jews originating from Yemen. The matriarch of the family and my host father's mother-in-law (the סבתא) was born in Yemen and moved to Israel in her late teens, I believe during Operation Magic Carpet. I was so embarrassed at my lack of Hebrew, yet she pulled me aside to tell me (in Hebrew) that it was ok and that I'd learn - just like she did as a new immigrant to Israel. As a resident of Yemen, her first language was Arabic. It was a very simple thing, but it really meant a lot to me.

She grew her family from very humble roots as an immigrant to Israel. She and her husband acquired a small home, which was gradually added to until they had enough rooms to house all 7 (or was it 9?) of their grown children. She was actually the first member of the family to verbally welcome them to the fold. I was staying with her son-in-law, her daughter, and her grandchildren, yet she was the one to cup my cheek gently to praise me for praying as required of the holiday and to say that I was welcome anytime.

Lucky for me, Havakuk (the son-in-law) spoke English, as did his sister-in-law Karen. The rest of the family had little to no English ability - or at least, that's what they told me. I've since learned that Israelis often downplay their linguistic abilities, most of the time out of humility. I had a great crash-course in Dati (religious) observance of Rosh Hashanah, in Temani style, with only a handful of known Hebrew words. Sink or swim was the situation, and I think I successfully only choked a few times. :)

Ironically, my Madricha advised me that Native Israelis don't know the word "shul", which is Yiddish for synagogue. Few Israelis actually speak Yiddish anymore, even those who came as Yiddishkeit. She advised us instead to use the word "synagogue". When I asked the family about their synagogue, however, they were puzzled. They'd never before heard the word! When I said, "You know, the shul? The place you pray?" they were all, "Oh yeah, shul! We call it Beit Knesset here" (בית כנסת). We all laughed - but I had to wonder why my madricha didn't just teach us the actual word used here. I still don't know why, but I think they actually knew "shul" because Havakuk's sister-in-law is actually Ashkenazim.

We attended the Temanim beit knesset and did tfilla in their home when we overslept services - I've learned that I do that a lot here. It's apparently not that uncommon among the Dati so I don't worry overmuch about it. It was a revelation to me that women come and go throughout services here. If they miss prayer at the beit knesset, they just pray at home. I also enjoyed the way they prayed - their melody style (also known as trope) was literally like a song. And even the youngest boy participants had perfect trope - no hesitation or stumbling over the words. It was beautiful. Also, the women were a lot less shy about peeking into the men's area through the curtain to see the Torah as it was brought out.

They ended Rosh Hashanah with a toast to me - after first giving me a hard time for gifting them with better wine than what they used for Kiddush. In my family, being given a hard time is the greatest sign of being a part of the clan. It was such a great feeling to be so welcome. Havakuk let me know repeatedly that I was always welcome to spend any time with his family, be it for Shabbat or a weekend. It was a lovely gesture and I can't wait to spend more time with them. Especially since my Hebrew is MUCH better. Not perfect by any means, but I'm proud of my progress after only four-and-a-half months.