This post popped up in my reader immediately following a dinner conversation with my wife. We’re visiting various shuls in our neighborhood in central Brooklyn in the course of getting more involved with Judaism. At the same time, my wife is looking for a job, having recently received her MLS. If she ends up getting a job in a place that requires an awful commute, we’ll move in the spring when our lease is up. I was worried that this placed constraints upon how we can attend shul in the meantime. We don’t pay a couple of thousand bucks to join a synagogue we’ll no longer be able to attend in 6 months, and commuting to central Brooklyn with a 2 year old from Queens or the Bronx is not a realistic option.

My wife, on the other hand, didn’t see any reason to join a shul at all, saying that people often go to services for a year or more without becoming member when financial and other considerations (i.e. transience) obtain. And that’s what you explain here. Thanks!

Re: Previous post about Trusting Parents Who Bring Tots to Shabbat

I did wince at the thought of the glass wall keeping parents out. That was not my intention of the mention of that idea as I love seeing children at worship services, babies too. I see the glass as another way to let nursing moms and active kids still hear and see the service and participate more than they might “out in the hall.”

In any case, I’d rather congregations add a welcome and additional programming for families with young children—rather than adding an architectural feature. Many do pipe the sound of the service into another space–would that also feel inclusive or exclusive?

Thanks for keeping the dialogue going on this.

Paula Brody,
Director, Outreach Training Institute
Union of Reform Judaism in Boston

My brother died at age 23, and at that time, was very much disconnected from Judaism as well. He did, like I, though, find his way to some Jewish singles groups. Who knows? He later in life might have been interested in his faith. But I would say that is a huge maybe.

In terms of the progress of mourning, I agree. My loss has ripened and softened with age. Going to Yizkor is a way to remember my brother and to affirm the new place faith has in my life.

Linda

I also believe that there is never a limitation to mourning but there is a progression. You move and grow and change and as you do, that loss changes for you as well. I remember the first few weeks after my father’s death feeling like a deer in the headlights, dazed and lost in my world, but as I continued to say kaddish and yizkor that first year, I was healing. My loss felt less fresh but it was still there just different. I met others who were mourning for a more recent loss and could see that dazed and lost look on their faces. It helped me notice that I was in fact healing and moving forward in my own grief.

Thank you for your insightful and beautiful comments.

Linda

I began my wedding day with a visit to Mum’s grave, and returned the day after with my new husband to place my bouquet on her headstone. We then wandered around the cemetery for a while, reading the headstones. It was a fascinating look at this small community’s history, with many names that I recognized from my childhood. Just as I pointed out names to my husband and told him an associated story, so other people will see Mum’s headstone and say “oh , I remember Janice Heron, she used to…” No-one is truly gone when people remember them and tell stories about them.