Shabbat: Pain and a ‘ Hallelujah’

At 7: 30 a. m. on this gloomy Saturday, the scene outside Congregation B’Nai Israel at 2710 Park Ave. in Bridgeport was muted, the beauty of fall tamped down by the overcast. Leaves lay thick and slick on the ground.

The only colors that penetrated the drear were the vibrant violet and scarlet lights atop Bridgeport Police Officer Cynthia Dolyak’s patrol car posted outside the synagogue.

The morning Shabbat service was to start in half an hour.

Inside the temple, a half- dozen guys sat kibbitzing — “Shabbat shalom,” ( Sabbath of peace) they offered almost in unison as a stranger entered. I introduced myself. The conversation was genial. Among them were a dentist, a lawyer and a retired school psychologist.

Other members of the congregation trickled in. Hugs, handshakes, lots of the normal rituals you’d see among people who see each other no more than weekly.

When Rabbi James Prosnit arrived, the Shabbat service got under way. I’d never been to a Shabbat service. It’s a sacred, religious event, of course, but I never knew how uplifting and joyous it was. Singing occupies probably 75 percent of the service and Cantor Sheri Blum led the way with crystal voice and guitar. ( My favorite part was the congregation’s decision to apply the melody of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” to Psalm 150: 1- 6, also a Hallelujah.)

Some 60 people — young, old, men, women, plaid shirts and jeans, a couple of guys in shirts and ties, a few North Face vests, the occasional prayer shawl and, well, just a slice of the kind of folks you see every day.

Equipped with my Mishkan T’filah, a prayer book, and with the assistance of Jerry Saunders, the retired school psychologist mentioned above, I followed along with the service.

We sang; we prayed; we listened. Officer Dolyak sat outside.

We were doing what the Jews gathered in Pittsburgh last Saturday morning were doing — singing, praying, listening — when a gunman burst in shouting about killing Jews and opened fire with an AR- 15 assault rifle, killing 11 people.

Eleven people, just like the people in this temple — our neighbors — slaughtered because of mindless hate.

As he proceeded through the service, Rabbi Prosnit periodically emphasized that some readings bore particular relevance in the light of last week’s events.

This one in particular: “From the cowardice that shrinks from new truth, from the laziness that is content with half- truths, from the arrogance that thinks it knows all truth, O God of truth, deliver us.”

Indeed.

“The events in Pittsburgh,” Prosnit said during brief remarks to the congregation, “were shocking....” He paused, and added slowly, “... but not so shocking.”

I went to the Shabbat service out of curiosity and out of the belief that we share a common humanity and that an assault of any group, simply because of religion, ethnicity, nationality, you name it, is an attack on us all. Put simply, in Bridgport fashion, we should all be watching each others’ backs.

Prosnit said the hourlong weekly Shabbat service — once again, this one in particular — is an opportunity for congregants to re- establish their equilibrium after the stress of the work week, or stress in the family, or stress from whatever. It’s quiet time. For some it may even be more social than religious.

He told the old story of the Jew who explains to his rabbi the reason he comes to Shabbat service: “Blum comes to talk to God; I come to talk to Blum.”

I sat with Saunders for a while after the service. A week later, he seemed to be still trying to sort out his thoughts on Pittsburgh.

” Even in the context of these times,” he said, “it was just hard to believe.”

One other verse in my Mishkan T’filah caught my eye: “Love your neighbor as yourself, You said.”