When the average person thinks of the fall, they tend to think of a new season, of leaves changing, of the weather growing colder, and perhaps of a new school year starting if you are of the student variety. But for many people, September marks the start of a new year. This new year is the Jewish year, marked by a remarkable string of holidays, too much food, and time with family.
This year, seeing as I am a little less than 4,000 miles away from home, my holidays are not quite the same. Different city, different language, different customs, different melodies - observing holidays here sometimes do feel like I'm in a foreign country (pun intended, it was the best way to put it). And yet, I feel remarkably at home. The events of my Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement, truly reflect that.
I went to the local Chabad house for a pre-fast meal, since I was not sure of my ability to cook an adequate and filling meal prior to fasting for 25 hours or so (not to mention the potential trauma that purchasing kosher chicken would wreak on my wallet). I was planning on sleeping over there to save myself the 45 minute hike back to my kollegium, so I went upstairs, prepared my bed, and came back down to help out in the kitchen. At the meal, which usually involves eating potatoes with my immediate family, and worrying about being late to Kol Nidre (even though we never are), I definitely had a different taste. I sat with my friends, fellow Americans, bonding and commiserating over the approaching holiday and what celebration meant for us overseas. True to form, after dinner I ran upstairs to brush my teeth one last time, and then rushed to the Great Synagogue, because we were afraid that we would be late.
As I have described in my previous posts, the Denmark Synagogue is a sight to behold. I find myself comparing it to the Great Synagogue in Cracow - both locations have that old majestic feeling, decorated in grandeur that is uncommon in the United States. There was a lot of chatter, since most of the Jews in Denmark were congregated in this one building at once. I expected to feel lost, but I actually new a considerable amount of the Danish people, not to mention the American students who made an appearance. Seeing familiar faces, having people say that it was so nice to see me, and inviting to meals for future holidays - it was overwhelmingly like I home, and I was thrilled.
The actual service was intense. When the cantor began to sing Kol Nidre, the room went silent and I got chills. The whole room was listening, and together we welcomed the holiday and absolved our vows. There was a sense of unity about the crowd, not only because they are an enclave among a mostly homogenous society, but also because they were coming together as a community to declare their faith, to forgive, and to be forgiven.
The rest of the evening service was long. Because the building was full to capacity, I ended up standing in the extremely warm women's balcony for most of the three hours. The rest of the evening involved chatting with another exchange student with whom I was bunking in the Chabad house, then tucking into bed to get plenty of sleep before our long day on Monday.
On your average Saturday morning at NYU, you will have at least three options for services, usually four. That is more than in the entire city of Copenhagen. Here, there is the Great Synagogue, the small Orthodox shul, and then a reform shul that holds services and events once a month. Luckily there were options, so I chose to go to the small Orthodox shul for morning prayers. It was very quiet, with less than 15 women in our section at peak attendance. It was very quiet, and very conducive to quiet reflection. There were no speeches and no interruptions (neither in Danish nor in English).
Just as musaf ended around 4:30, I returned to the Chabad house hoping to take a quick nap, but found myself in a small informal lecture about the meaning of Yom Kippur. The Rabbi spoke of the importance of the day, the meaning of fasting, and the idea of the scapegoat. He provided some food for thought prior to the end stretch of the day. There was a minyan in the Chabad house and it started as soon as the talk was over, so it was right to it for the remainder of the chag. This was the first time I had gone to the entirety of all five services on Yom Kippur, and it was also the first time I did the whole day without a break. And yet, the last stretch was smooth, easy, and meaningful.
When we sang the traditional "Napoleon's March" at the end of Neilah, I felt like relieved, like the day was over, like the holiday was coming to a close, and like we had accomplished something. Rabbi Loewenthal spoke about how resilient people are, and it is true. As a community, we made it through the day. As an individual, I'm half way through holiday season on my own (meaning without my parents and family to cook and make it easy). I've established myself here in Copenhagen, creating a community with my classmates, other Americans, other visitors to Denmark, and Danish people. Everyone has a niche, and I am thankful to be carving mine out successfully here in Copenhagen. All of these things seem to portend a good year, and I hope that this is true for all of us.
