I confess I was late arriving at Shul.....
Here in New York the service started at 9am and I had decided to arrive around 10am. As it happened I finally got there at 11am (naughty girl). I do plead guilty but with mitigating circumstances as I went to the complete Eve of Rosh Hashanah services last night which started at 6.30pm and ended at 9pm.

On arrival today I crept inside the Town Hall on W43rd Street which is where the service is held. The seats are plush red velvet and very comfortable and of course the venue is normally used for concerts or talks of one kind or another. Last year I was there listening to jazz on one evening and a "keep NY green with bicycles" event on another evening (as a keen cyclist this was an evening of great interest).

The volunteers on the door were very welcoming and I made my way upstairs to the second gallery. I squeezed in between two strangers who smiled. But sitting upstairs is far too far away from what is really happening down on the Bimah so I moved downstairs and sat a few rows from the front (great orchestra seats)!

As the music and singing evolved my tears started to flow quite freely and I began thinking of my parents - now long dead and other friends who are far away. The female Rabbi is well known for her humour and often encourages us to "stay with it in whatever form that takes". She even said she was happy to see us "nodding off from time to time" as that implied that we felt truly comfortable enough to do so. I laughed and then I cried again when the music started. At one point I was so choked up I couldn't even sing and my glasses started to mist up. (In New York EVERYONE sings - and everyone seems to know the Hebrew well enough to join in with all the responses). Whatever your position in all of this our Rabbi is happy - if you join in then fine and if you just want to read the notes in the prayer book then that's fine too. And even if you want to "just sit with your eyes closed taking it all in" then that's fine too. Last night we all had apples dipped in honey as we left the premises - naturally we were not allowed to have sticky fingers on or even near the red plush. A friend took a bite of apple and then passed it on to me. I liked that as it seemed more personal somehow.