Happy New Year! For all you non-Jews out there (there must be one or maybe two of you out of all my family and friends...), today is Rosh Hashanah, or the Jewish New Year, and the title of my post means "May you be inscribed and sealed for a good year."
I never thought I would be celebrating this holiday in Turkey, which reminds me that every year brings new experiences and that you never know where you will be in a year. Last year I celebrated Rosh Hashanah at Penn Hillel and ate apples and honey, which is a traditional holiday food symbolizing a sweet new year, with my sorority sisters. The thought of where I would be in a year never crossed my mind, and if you asked me where I would be I would have most likely said studying abroad in Prague.
This year I attended prayer services at Neve Șalom Synagogue in Istanbul. While I usually go to services with a large group of friends, this year I went alone. And while I usually attend Reformed Jewish services, this year I attended Orthodox Jewish services. This year has already brought very different and new experiences for me, and for that I am grateful.
Neve Șalom Synagogue is a beautiful synagogue built in 1951 in Istanbul near Galata Tower in the Beyoğlu District. It has a large Sephardic community, and is open to reservations for visits and services. I contacted the Synagogue last week to make a reservation to attend prayer services last night. I had to send a copy of my passport as well as bring my passport to the Synagogue last night in order to pass through security. Security is strict and there are even gas masks under every seat because in the past Neve Șalom has suffered three terrorist attacks. The last one was in 2003 when the Synagogue was hit by a car bomb. The Great Eastern Islamic Raiders' Front, a local Turkish militant group, claimed responsibility for the attack.
While I was a bit nervous when I was waiting outside of the Synagogue after ringing the doorbell to enter, once I was inside I felt very safe. The man who greeted me spoke perfect English and commented that he did not think there were Jews in Hawaii. I responded by saying that I did not think there were Jews in Turkey. He then took me through security where I went through a metal detector and my bag was searched, and then through two doors where the second door did not open until the first door was closed. We then entered the lobby, which led to the main floor where the men sat and the upper balcony where the women sat. Since I am a member of a Reformed congregation, the separation between men and women was new for me. However, I expected as much since I was going to an Orthodox synagogue. I thanked the man who greeted me and then took a Siddur (Jewish prayer book) and headed upstairs.
When services began at sundown there were only a few women and about a dozen men praying. But as time went on more people showed up. None of the rabbis spoke English, and while they led the traditional prayers, it was hard to keep up with their fast pace. Most of the time I was trying to find where we were in the prayer book. But when I finally found where we were, I felt accomplished and followed along as quickly as I could, whispering the Hebrew words a mile a minute. Services finished after about an hour and a half. I had been helping an American woman find her place throughout the service, so I chatted with her and her husband on the way out. They were from New York City and were visiting Istanbul for the weekend and decided to go to services while they were here. We were handed our passports at the exit, and I watched as they disappeared into the night.
After services I felt a mix of nostalgia and loneliness. I was starting the new year alone in a foreign country where not only are there hardly any Jews, but where Judaism represents Israel's politics against an independent Palestine. The day after I arrived in Istanbul I saw a huge poster hanging from a building on the main highway that said, "Israel you will be sorry." I have never felt uncomfortable to practice my religion in my life, but in Turkey I have hid the fact that I am Jewish from my peers and have not once worn my Star of David necklace.
As I walked down the crowded street of İstiklal Avenue with these depressing thoughts in my head, a new thought came to me as I realized I was not actually sad, but proud of myself for going to synagogue on Rosh Hashanah and practicing my religion despite where I was.
Happy New Year everyone.
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