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Once upon a time, a long long time ago, in a faraway land….. I was so in love. It wasn’t about love and marriage, it was about the deepest love and attachment that one could have for a community and for its temple home; Temple Beth El (TBE), Spring Valley, NY. I served as Cantor there 2003-2016.
It was Rosh Hashanah 2014. This year was different for us at TBE. The building was already sold at a special auction and we were able to arrange through negotiations to have just one last Rosh Hashanah Service in our building.
Many fixed objects of art and large judaic pieces were already removed or in the midst of being removed from the floors, walls and ceilings in our gathering spaces, hallways, chapel and sanctuary. While dodging cordoned off ‘de-construction areas,’ we were carefully able to pull off full HHD services at TBE, to a packed house, for the very last time.
It was a fifty year history for the building; from the first ceremonial shovel dug into the ground, to us honoring The Days of Awe for the last time in the TBE sanctuary. For my part, I represented the last of a long line of Cantors for the building, far more distinguished than I, who graced its bima. Some of my predecessors included George Weinflash, Vicki Axe, Fredda Mendelson and Faith Steinsnyder. Each one was legendary in the Jewish world for their knowledge, tutelage and voices.
Back in 2003, a bit wet around the ears but armed with the benefits of being a full blown Cantor nerd, I readied myself for the interview and audition process. The leadership of TBE was looking for something very specific and very late in the process finally reached out to my seminary, The Academy For Jewish Religion.
Back in 2003, a cantorial friend urged me to look into the new cantorial job listing. I would never have had the moxy to even enter my hat into the ring, save for the insistence of my chutzpadik cantorial peer. I was already steeped in the busiest time ever, finishing comprehensives, rehearsing a final practicum and testing in preparation for my ordination.
I was filled with my own special brand of self doubt, as usual, but Marcia (pronounced Mar-cee-ah) saw in me a lot more than I could ever see in myself. She was very certain and very persuasive. I’m unsure if I ever thanked her enough because that hefty push she provided led to an exhilarating 13 years filled with a lot of beauty and many twists and turns.
It occurred to me on the way out of the house on that Rosh Hashanah morning, 2014, that somehow, I needed, even at this very last minute, to record some of this final service for posterity. I handed Mike (my husband) a small hand-held field device that I normally used for recording school lectures, to record some of the music of the service, informally, from his seat in the pews.
In this recording that I share with you today of the final service in our building, you can hear a tangible rush of emotion. The choir sang in full voice and with a sense of urgency. We all realized that nothing would ever be exactly the same again. As I stood on the bima, I reminded myself to memorize all the details of the room, my feelings and as many faces as I could; I attempted to crystalize these last moments.
It was a deeply emotional time. Our voices and prayers were a final cry for the loss of that comforting space and its unique history. It mattered deeply; some of our choir members sang continuously in that pit for 30, even 40 plus years.
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