Volunteering to serve as a greeter for shul would seem to most almost inconsequential. Open the door, smile, say “Shabbat shalom,” and keep safety and security in mind. And yet, this small mitzvah became the doorway through which I would walk to find myself at home at HEA.
My husband and I have been members of HEA for several years. We would, on occasion, attend Shir Hadash together; I would venture to the Traditional service alone some weeks. Family services and Tot Shabbat were our go-to as we could socialize in the perpetually interrupted and self-effacing way that parents do. Together or alone, we would shake hands with a few total or near-strangers, perhaps encounter a face or two we had some familiarity with, and would depart after the service – kiddush seemed too much to two people who feel the pangs of social anxiety (though we fake it well).
A little less than a year ago, an email went out to the HEA membership from James McKeon, Director of Communications, whom I happened to know a bit through the adult b’nai mitzvah class in which we were both enrolled. He was calling for volunteers to participate in the Greeter/Security Team. I don’t know what it was about his email, but something compelled me to raise my hand, to take the step to volunteer in a way that seemed accessible to someone who felt “outside,” a participant but not fully vested in some way. I met the requirements: I am accustomed to being on my feet, don’t mind being outside regardless of the weather, can open doors (albeit heavy), and can be generally pleasant and safety conscious. So it began, a journey I never anticipated, a journey that brought me closer to the Judaism I chose and the “Jewish family” I never had.
It felt a bit strange the first time I was a greeter. My face was unfamiliar to most. The “Greeter” lanyard we wear provided some comfort: “I belong. I’m official. I’m not a stranger.” That first shift, Amir Kaufman, HEA Safety Team leader, made me feel at ease in the way only an Israeli can, and afterward, he and Rabbi Gruenwald raised a l’chaim with me in honor of my first greeter shift. It felt… communal; that I had done something for and with my community. I had engaged in a way that was more than coming to services and scurrying shyly out afterward.
Each time I serve as a greeter, whether I enter into the service – or not, go to kiddush – or not, I am enveloped by a sense of community. Amir, James, Leslie, Adam, Ted, Steve, Arnie – the list goes on and on. These are faces and people I now know. These are smiles and hugs or handshakes or both that I am now greeted with whether I am a greeter, attending services, or yes – even kiddush.
When I tell our daughter we are going to see “our Jewish family” at synagogue – and she sees those smiles and the community embracing us, she sees that it is real. That Judaism and HEA are home. That we are home. That we belong.
Shabbat Shalom!
