fbpx

A Minyan of Our Own

Sitting behind a crocheted curtain, I desperately tried to peer through the tiny holes to get a glimpse of the action on the men\'s side. Finally, I gave up, and pushed the curtain aside, and saw our chazan auctioning off portions of the services.
[additional-authors]
September 18, 2003

Sitting behind a crocheted curtain, I desperately tried to peer through the tiny holes to get a glimpse of the action on the men’s side.

Finally, I gave up, and pushed the curtain aside, and saw our chazan auctioning off portions of the services.

"$101 — going once. $101 — going twice. $101 — going three times. Sold to the man in the black suit!"

And so the High Holiday services began, with our beloved cantor speaking "Heb-lish" in a very thick Middle Eastern accent.

Every year since I can remember, my father formed a minyan with friends — and anybody else who wasn’t satisfied with the High Holiday services in their regular synagogue. The minyan was held in a little room with a makeshift mechitzah (partition) that we had to hold up from time to time because it had this tendency to fall over.

We faced the ark with the men on one side and women on the other — traditional Orthodox style. There was no president, no treasurer, no politics; just a gathering of Sephardic Jews from different parts of the eastern world getting together to pray to God at the holiest time of the year.

The synagogues in the Hancock Park area lent us their Torahs and places of worship. Like other synagogues, we held an auction, but all of the money we raised was sent to needy families in Israel instead of to the shul.

Our minyan hosted a gathering of Egyptians, Iraqis, Afghans, Israelis, Bucharians, Turks and Yemenites, each offering their families’ traditions and tunes, making them feel that much closer to home. It was a place of older men and women, most of them from the old country who remember how their fathers recited the prayers from their corner of the world. Here in America with their American children, they would sing their age-old tunes with joy, instilling their children with their culture and heritage.

When I was a child, when I didn’t have the patience to sit through the services, I would hang around with the other kids and make trouble in the background. But as I grew older, the songs beckoned me, and I wanted to participate in the prayers.

If I close my eyes, I can still recall the sound of my father’s voice as he sang the "Anenu": The whole room became silent to the lilt of the Sephardic tune as he held it for long beats, his words touching the souls of the people who came from all over the world to our little minyan. This is how we shared our holidays — not from a pew in the back, straining to hear the chazan’s voice; not as bystanders humming the tune under our breaths, but loudly, each of us participating.

Every year I looked forward to hearing our chazan lead us in prayers. But two years ago, he moved to New York. He was the glue that kept us together, and when he left, I think he took the heart of our minyan with him.

As we approach the High Holidays, my family and I are nostalgic about the minyan — we know that our annual tradition will never be the same without our chazan.

But we are eager to forge new bonds and make new holiday memories. We have since relocated and many new people have joined with us.

And perhaps, as we pray for redemption, our collective spirit will return to us as it once was. And maybe, as we say in the last prayer, next year we shall all rejoice in Jerusalem.

Did you enjoy this article?
You'll love our roundtable.

Editor's Picks

Latest Articles

A Bisl Sukkot ~ Don’t Be Afraid, Go Outside

The sukkah reminds us to go out into the world, especially when the comforts of insularity beckon us closer—to explore paths we have yet to take and seek journeys ready for wandering.

A Harira Hug in the Sukkah

I love making soup for this holiday because even if the days are still warm, the cooler evenings make you start craving something warm and comforting.

The Beat Goes On

While so much of the world seems obsessed with and consumed by its hatred of Israel and Jews, Israelis continue to build, create, work, celebrate, argue, raise families, and plan for the future.

Viral AI Video Targets Jewish Comedian

“The biggest concern is that people now have a pathway to shut down Jewish voices through complete falsities that people will believe. … For the future of Jewish entertainment, it’s very scary.”

Yiddish Historians: Writing in Their Own Language for Their Own People

Mark Smith has compiled an important anthology of Jewish history using 49 works by Yiddish historians to recreate or at least open the door to a world of Jewish thought that was once almost mainstream, but which no longer exists, except in the minds of too few specialists.

The Everlasting Melody

Most Jews who have sung “Eitz Chaim” over the past half-century probably never knew Portnoy. They did not know when he wrote the melody or how young he was when he composed it. They simply knew the song.

Who’s Really the Victim?

Those who would revel in Israel’s demise are claiming victimhood on every front and denying attacks on us in the same breath.

More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.