A moment in time

Judaism is a story about humanity.

I am studying in Shanghai, China. A city that has stood witness to thousands of years. Dynasties have risen and fallen, leaders have prospered, citizens have despaired, foreign conquests have shifted boundaries time and time again. Now -- growth rages in the city, peasant farmers languish in the fields, and the world argues about international trade balances, debt, and who is to blame.

We must remember – Judaism, is a way to understand our place in time.

The Jewish people too, of course, have been around for thousands of years. The stories of Shanghai and Jerusalem are distinct but if we will open our eyes, they are closely intertwined.

Last night, I set out to attend Friday night services at the Jewish Center of Pudong in Shanghai, China. I took a taxi some 45 minutes through crowded streets before reaching a more or less desolate stretch of road. The driver had trouble locating the building, and I was confident I would be late, but equally calm that I would be warmly received.

After reaching the complex, a few inquires led me to the right building, and a woman at the desk told me she was unaware of any services that night. She encouraged me to go up the stairs to where services are usually held, and I eagerly wound up the spiral staircase only to find a cavern of darkness.

The room was set up to hold a service. The arc of wooden chairs facing a stage was unmistakable. As my eyes adjusted to the dark I set out in search of an Ark, a Torah, some Hebrew writing, anything to reassure me I was in the right place.

I didn’t find a tangible relic to confirm for me that I was in a synagogue, but I did find within me an overwhelming urge to pray.

Slowly, and utterly respectfully I walked up to the “Bema” and took in the semi-circular tall glass panes which gave me a glimpse of the world outside. Patrolling the streets were perhaps dozens of security guards, sweeping the area with flashlights, piercing the darkness in search of something amiss.

In the darkness, in the loneliness I felt for just one moment what it may have been like for Jews who were persecuted for so many years. I thought of how many dimly lit buildings were turned into temporary temples for small clusters of Jews to gather in hushed voices and affirm their commitment to God, to Judaism, to life.

Something moved me then and there, to a much deeper, much stronger voice than I have ever been able to command. I launched into a 15 minute rendition of L’cha Dodi.

As my voice echoed with a power that would bring chills to a passerby’s spine I belted the lyrics and the verses, one time, after another, after another.

I thought of Jews that lived in concentration camps, and I thought of Jews that lived under Pharaohs rule, I thought of the Jews whose names we do not know, of Jews around the world whose history, whose lives we may never know.

I stood broad shoulders and faced the world, and belted from deep within my gut, the Amidah. I sang about the God of our fathers, Abraham, Issac, and Jacob who many thousands of years ago had lives of their own.

Judaism is a story of time.

In 1949 China was swept by a revolution, its previous rulers were pushed out, a new wave were brought in. In 1948 our state of Israel was born.

We must remember, today is only a moment. We think of history, and we go back at most 60 years. The Jewish people have lived in every crevice of this Earth for thousands of years, and more importantly, today is not the end. Today is not the only moment for our people, there will be thousands of years more.

How rich is our history? How strong are our ties? There is reason for our holydays, there is a story behind our every moment. Every Jew in every service in every time sings testimony to mankind, to what we have been, to what we will be, hopefully if religion does its part, if we can manage, Judaism sings testimony to our commitment to become who we should be.

I stood and faced an open window and sang every song I have remembered since I memorized the Ashrey at the age of 9. I stood in that empty, holy building for hours and tears streamed down my face. My voice never failed me, but it warbled and wavered with the beauty of a story, of a history and of a chance so rich that I know I am blessed to have even a momentary awareness of my position in time.

Today is not the final moment, it is not the most difficult moment. It may not be the easiest moment, or the most rewarding, but it is our moment in time.

We are a part of a story. We are a people. We are a people that have endured so much more than high unemployment rates, we cannot even begin to imagine how much we so often forget. I am a Jew. We are Jewish. It is a beautiful thing.