Most Saturday mornings, I plunk my daughter down in the stroller and we head off to synagogue together. It’s a solid walk – easily half an hour, and then only if we don’t stop to watch the puppies at the dog park, or take a slight detour for a couple trips down the slide. We leave a bit after 9 and don’t get back home until 1.
There are a handful of shuls within closer walking distance, but most weeks I still choose the one that’s farther away. I know more people there, and the kiddush is reliably decent, but even if I weren’t sure of seeing some old friends and a mom-approved lunch, I’d probably still opt for the longer walk. Those hours are the best chance I get all week to spend some quality time with her. Going to shul has become the thing we do together.
But for all the time we eventually do spend inside the synagogue complex (the pace of the service is, shall we say, leisurely), most weeks we barely make it into the sanctuary at all, other than to watch the removal of the Torah from the Ark and to listen to the singing of the Musaf Kedushah. Once in a while, she might want to hear a bit of the layning, too. But when it comes to everything in between, she’d rather do anything else.
So instead, we wander the halls, gaze out the windows at the street below, or munch on Tam-Tams in the playroom. Those are the things she seems to like the best about going to shul, and if I try to take her back inside the sanctuary, she usually voices her displeasure within a few minutes. When she starts to pull my tallit off my shoulders, I know it’s time to make a quick exit. Then the cycle begins again – hallway, windows, playroom – until it’s time for kiddush and her beloved vegetarian cholent.
Sometimes I wonder whether trudging to shul in the freezing cold or wilting away in fancy clothes under the summer sun is really worth it. My daughter doesn’t appear to care much about the rituals of the Shabbat experience. She seems just as happy when we skip shul entirely and go to the park instead. There doesn’t seem to be much point in taking her to synagogue, at least not yet.
But then this past Shabbat, she did something she’s never done before. When we first walked into the sanctuary, she pointed to the Ark and, unprompted, announced with complete confidence: “Torah.”
We were in shul for maybe 10 minutes before she managed to pull my tallit off. After that, we walked the halls a bit and eventually ended up in the playroom. She busied herself with the toy cars while I chatted with two other dads of toddlers about home renovations – and, of course, Jewish community politics.
I tried to take her back into the sanctuary for Kedushah, but she was having none of it. She wasn’t even that impressed by the cholent. Still, from the moment she said “Torah,” I knew we’d probably be back at shul next Saturday morning. — YONI