Friday night I went to Dor Chadash, a Reconstructionist congregation. I'd been there once before for a Purim service that a friend was involved in and once on a Shabbat morning (I think), both several years ago. They do not have Friday services every week; currently they're doing two a month, and I don't know if that's a summer thing or their normal routine.

There were about 20 people there, which someone said was a little small. Dor Chadash is a lay-led congregation, though the person who led this service is in rabbinic school (currently off and back home for the summer). There was also a cantorial soloist (someone said "cantor" but I don't think so). There was a lot of singing; many were melodies that I'd heard but don't know, but they were easy to pick up. I wish I had retained any of them. At least one felt like Carlebach to me, and I think I heard one or two of them at the kallah a couple weeks ago. Oh well; I'll encounter them again someday. Even if I would use a recorder on Shabbat, it's not like I would be inclined to carry one with me to services. :-)

They sang or read passages from several of the psalms in kabbalat shabbat (not all). At a rough guess the liturgical time was split fairly evenly between kabbalat shabbat and ma'ariv, which probably only stood out because of the kallah two weeks ago where kabblat shabbat was very much the lion's share with a quickie ma'ariv tacked on. Dor Chadash started the t'filah together but immediately went to individual recitation, and I was surprised by how fast they were (that is, how quickly people sat down). I was reciting it pretty efficiently (and skipping some bits once I picked up the vibe), but I was still the last to sit down. As a visitor I felt awkward, as if I'd come in from outside and slowed them down. But whoa was that fast -- maybe four minutes? (The cantorial soloist then chanted Magen Avot, which I suppose "covers" you if you didn't do your own, but I didn't know in advance that she would.)

There was a rabbi there (introduced as a guest), who gave a d'var torah. (He mentioned that he'd be reading torah the next morning; I don't know if he had any other leadership roles.) He talked about the beginning of Matot, which lists all the places Israel camped in the wilderness, and about the importance of remembering history and the effects of displacement. (It was more coherent coming out of his mouth then than my memory now.) Toward the beginning he asked the congregation how many places Israel camped and there was resounding silence, so I quietly answered. (I was in the second row, right in front of him.) I don't think I knew that I knew that until he asked, but I guess I did.

Everyone was very friendly after the service. I was the only newcomer, so it was easier for them to learn my name than for me to learn all of theirs. I talked for a while with a professor of music history at Pitt; we talked about 16th-century counterpoint, which I suspect surprised him as much as it surprised me for Shabbat conversation. And it turned out that the person who looked really familiar but I couldn't say why is a neighbor on my block, so we went home together. (And the friend who motivated that first visit was there too.)

Of the (local) places I've visited this summer, Dor Chadash is the clear winner so far. Next time I want to be somewhere other than my own congregation on a night when they are having services, I expect to go back.

This summer my congregation is starting Shabbat evening services earlier than normal. I'm not sure why this idea is popular, but ours isn't the only place doing it. (I don't mean not waiting until sunset when sunset is late; I mean moving the start time earlier than it is during the rest of the year.)

Personally, I find summer shabbatot long already (Saturday afternoon into evening is a long haul), so I'll only add 2+ hours onto the beginning if there's something in it for me. "Something in it for me" can mean a real d'var torah or sermon (aimed at adults, not dumbed down for kids), or a significant role in conducting the service (hard to get), or a new experience. So while I've gone to my congregation a couple times (once to support my rabbi in something, and once because our educator rabbi would be leading), I've also been seeking out new experiences elsewhere.

I've been to Tree of Life for their monthly music and to New Light (a 5-minute walk from my house), both Conservative. This week I sought out Young Israel. I had the impression that they were on the liberal end of Orthodox and that there might be singing and others my age. I'm not sure why I had those impressions.

Not knowing the lay of the land I dressed conservatively (I would never wear long sleeves in summer otherwise). Good call; black hats were the norm. Their entry way had only one door into the worship space (no separate women's entrance) and the women's section was on the far side, so I quietly opened and closed the door and tried to be unobtrusive while making my way over there. (Mincha had already started.) I saw no obvious place to get a siddur on my way past and didn't want to disturb any of the men standing there. (None of them looked at me.) On the women's side I found assorted books, which might have been people's personal copies, but there was no one there to ask. So I picked up an Artscroll siddur from on top of a bookcase and joined the service.

The service -- the remainder of mincha, then kabbalat shabbat, then ma'ariv -- was very matter-of-fact. There was a little bit of singing during kabbalat shabbat (not as much as I've seen at other Orthodox congregations). Mincha started at 7:30 and we were leaving the building by 8:30. I felt like I'd had a decent prayer experience personally, but didn't feel part of a community. No one greeted me as we were filing out, though someone did on the street half a block later.

I know that the conventional gender roles in the Orthodox community mean many women don't come Friday night, and if you want to meet a community you go Saturday morning. I have a place I'm very happy with for Saturday mornings, and I can't see anything currently that would cause me to skip that for someone else's regular service. (If there were a simcha involved for a friend that would of course be different.)

So far this summer, aside from the kallah, my Friday-night experiences have been "eh". They would have been "eh" if I'd gone to my own synagogue every week, so I haven't lost anything, but it's still a little disappointing. (On the other hand, it's confirmation that my own congregation is well above average when it's in "normal mode"...)
Does anybody in this city celebrate Shabbat, as opposed to just getting through the service, at an hour that doesn't have one leaving the building with the sun high in the sky?

(Yes, I know you're allowed to accept Shabbat early. Coming out of ma'ariv into sunlight feels weird to me, and as I said before, I'm reluctant to add a couple hours to Shabbat this time of year.)

Oh well. There are still a few weeks left in which to explore.

I won't be leading shacharit tomorrow, so no daf bit, but instead I'll share a few short notes from some recent unusual-to-me services.

I've seen this a few times. The congregation chants a word or phrase from the part of the liturgy you're supposed to be doing, over and over, while the service leader chants the entire passage over it. The load on the congregation is lighter (useful if not everyone is fluent), the problems of skipping text are avoided (the representative of the congregation says them), and you might get a sort of minor meditative thing going that helps with focus. I wouldn't have predicted that I could be happy with my entire contribution to Ashrei being "Halleluyah" in a tight loop, but it worked.

The service leader is the locomotive; the congregation is the train. The leader leads, but everyone has to get there together. (This is an approximation of something said by Hazzan Jack Kessler.) This analogy breaks down if you look at it too hard, but I found it interesting enough to note.

This almost set off my woo-woo alarm but I tried it anyway: say Ashrei with a partner, delivering your part directly to the other person with intention. The reason I feared woo-woo is that I thought this would take praise of God too close to praise directed at the other person, but it didn't actually feel that way. I felt like I was praising God through this other person. It's not something I'd make a habit of, but it was an interesting experience.

I appear to be ok with thoughtful drumming during prayer. I am still not ok with chanted English where liturgy belongs -- doubly so if the English isn't a translation but something creative. Singing English is ok, but I find that I want the nusach, the traditional chant melody, to be reserved for more-or-less traditional Hebrew text.

The amidah is your private audience with God. What do you want to say to him? (Rabbi Richard Simon.)

More later, I presume.