Simchat Tourist

My husband’s October birthday is often an excuse for a break to a destination for some last sunny rays before winter truly kicks in at home in Yorkshire.

And this October half term was no exception, except that this year, being a ‘significant’ birthday, we thought we’d invite the extended family to join us. Which is how we’ve ended up a big gorgeous gaggle (what’s the term for a big family group?!) of Dysons in the Algarve for a few days.

My brother in law clocked that we would be out here for Simchat Torah - the festival celebrating the end and the beginning of the eternal cycle of reading the Torah. It is of course now the Hebrew date anniversary of the massacre and brutality of the Hamas attacks too. Bitter-sweet to say the least.

So despite our being on holiday and away from it all, we found ourselves on Friday morning at the https://www.jewishalgarve.org Ezra and Sasoon Synagogue in Albufeira.

I have to admit I was sceptical. I knew that in all probability I’d be consigned behind a screen as is the orthodox way, and feel isolated and removed from what was going on.

I took a deep breath and followed my brother in law, husband and son into the Jewish Community of Algarve’s home; first through their colourfully decorated sukkah, then into the synagogue, which was divided with a screen of bamboo for me to sit behind, next to the one other woman who was there. Behind us, there was a long banquet table laid out ready for the communal lunch afterwards. I counted 15 places.

So this was a small intimate gathering. Nowhere to hide, whether you were in front of, or behind the screen.

Whilst it was true that just by virtue of my gender I was not counted for the minyan, not invited to hold the Torah, or given the honour of blessing the Torah, I was included in other ways; the Torah in its procession was brought to us to kiss, I was asked for my father’s name for the Yizkor (memorial) prayer.

I found myself totally readjusting my viewpoint  as the warmth of the prayers, the joyful singing, the camaraderie of greeting to everyone who came, the space for contemplation and prayer, the honouring of parents who have passed, and the honouring of everyone present enveloped me with such a deep sense of spiritual Jewish fulfilment that I was able to forgo the initial angst of not feeling like I counted, as a woman, in this male-dominated space.

The truth is, I suddenly felt that this male only space was really powerful, and my being there was a concession on their part which had the potential (though I don’t think it did) of breaking the magic of the sentiment that pervaded the space.

I deeply appreciated the supportive embraces they gave each other. The vulnerability of sharing the names of loved ones who are ill or troubled and they wanted to hold in their prayers. The honouring of each other through ensuring everyone was called up, individually, to bless the Torah, and for everyone else to respond ‘Amen’.

How many spaces are there for men especially to hold each other up and be genuinely present for each other?

We all left the Ezra and Sasoon Synagogue that morning, feeling held by the warmth of this special little community, determined to celebrate, to be present, to honour time long traditions, and each other.

To which we should all say to them the traditional chant for when we read the last word of the Torah - Chazak Chazak V’Nitchazek - in strength, in strength, and may we all continue to be strengthened.

חזק חזק ונתחזק