Give You A Lift? : My Hagba Humiliation
“Art is born of humiliation.” World Within World, W.H. Auden (1951)
Age 17, I moved from Washington Heights in Manhattan to Kew Gardens, Queens.
It was an entirely new world in many ways, including my synagogue.
Although located in “Frankfurt on the Hudson” Heights, Washington Heights Congregation was Polish. Ironically, Kew Gardens Synagogue, Adath Yeshurun, was an offshoot of the famed Heights German Breuers Shul.
Polish and German Shuls have different traditions.
Our first Shabbat there, my father received an Aliya. I was given Hagba [lifting the Torah.]
In Washington Heights Congregation, pre-marriage, you neither perform Hagba, nor wear a Tallit. Accordingly, I strode to the Bima without one.
Very German Reverend Hirsch took one look, uttered “Ach!”, handing me one. Now anxious, I donned it upside down, eliciting “Ach!” #2.
My anxiety was contagious. He prophylactically separated the wooden handles by which one lifts the Torah to facilitate my task. Apparently, he expected the worst.
He got it.
I lifted the 20-lb Torah neglecting to push the handles down to turn it vertical, leaving it parallel to the ground upon which it was about to fall (forcing every person present to fast a full day to atone.)
Our eyes simultaneously widened and met. Muttering “Ach!” # 3-8, he grabbed the Torah before it hit the floor, unceremoniously shoving me to the floor in the process.
Typically, after performing Hagba, everyone shakes your hand congratulating you. As I descended, no one even made eye-contact. A wonderful introduction to my new Shul!
Thank God, I soon left to work in an Israeli summer camp. On arrival, I was informed they had but a single immense 40-lb Torah. As the biggest staff-member, I’d willy-nilly perform every Hagba. I tried to explain my Hagba-phobia. No one was interested. This wasn’t a request, but an assignment.
After hours, I went to the Shul to practice Pumping-Torah. Once I perfected my technique, it was doable. Indeed, Pumping-Torah four-times weekly the entire summer, I became quite buff. By the end of the summer, I was lifting it over my head, 4-feet wide, my campers cheering me on.
I returned to Kew Gardens awaiting my opportunity for redemption. I “casually” mentioned to Reverend Hirsch I repeatedly performed Hagba over the summer. Each time I did, his wordless look simultaneously conveyed “Yeah, sure!” and “Please don’t talk to me!”
There was no way in Heaven or Hell Hirsch hands me Hagba again.
Until, apparently, he had to.
An icy winter short Shabbos Mincha, barely a Minyan present, towards the end of the Torah recitation, Hirsch approaches the back where my pals and I are immersed in conversation, resignedly motioning me to the Bima.
This is my moment! I try not to let my euphoria show.
This time I’m as cool as the ice outside, donning the Tallit correctly, not waiting for Hirsch to prep the Torah. I have this!
In one fell swoop, I have the Torah over my head, 4-feet wide.
Once again, our eyes meet. This time however he doesn’t look frightened, only surprised.
He says five words I will remember the rest of my life:
“You idiot! This is Shlishi!” (i.e., he had summoned me for an Aliya, not Hagba.)
There’s no way anyone could know this, but it’s virtually impossible to gently replace the Torah after spreading and lifting it over your head. Hirsch had to help me again.
Needless to say, for the remainder of his tenure, he never allowed me within 10 yards of the Torah.
When Kew Gardens Synagogue celebrated its 50th anniversary in 1990, I was invited to return to MC. I told the story of my two Hagbas.
Two decades later, it was hilarious (to everyone but me.)
[This is excerpted from an unpublished family memoir.]
