Memoirs of a Shul Cat–2. Machloket!

Machloket means dispute. When referring to disputes in shul, it is often pronounced in Yiddish: Machloykes.  Of course, disputes can happen anywhere.  But shuls present a fertile ground for arguments, because in shuls there are so many things to argue about. Also, such arguments are often public and personal.

Lita comes to Pennsylvania

My father grew up in Hazleton PA, in the northeastern part of the state, not far from Scranton. His father, my Zeyde, worked there as a melamed for 50 years, terrorizing generations of Hazleton boys into learning to read the Torah.

When my father was growing up there, Jewish Hazleton was a Litvishe shtetl. People came from the general vicinity of Belarus where my father’s family came from. They were not yet Americanized. For instance, there was a street in town called Wyoming Street, but my father recalled that the locals called it Vayokom Strit, which sounded more familiar. (See Shemot 1:8)

He recalled the fights in shul every Shabbat afternoon. These were so regular that the local police knew what time mincha was, since they were often called upon to intervene. On one occasion, a shul member whom the cops came to book for disorderly conduct grabbed the bima with both hands and had to be pried loose. (See Melachim Aleph 2:28)

By the time I grew up, actual fist fighting was largely avoided by Jews who had acculturated to more genteel—and effective–ways of expressing hostility.  Largely, but not completely.

When I was in medical school, there was a prominent shul not far away. In the five years we lived nearby, I only went there half a dozen times. That was because I saw a fistfight every time I went.

Once I went there on Hoshana Raba, near the end of Sukkot. Gabbaim had brought piles of willow branches, aravot, to strike 5 times against the floor near the end of the Hoshanot circuits. Daveners would choose one and leave a small donation.

Suddenly there was a commotion. One old gent started to yell. “You took my arovos!” and took a swing at the other guy.

I turned around and left.

***

Toronto, Ho!

When our kids were little, we drove to Toronto to spend a few days. We took a room in a downtown hotel, where Jews used to live before they moved north. There was still a shul nearby, where I took our two sons, then aged 8 and 10, on Shabbat morning.

When we got there on time, the crowd was sparse. Near the start, during Pesukei D’Zimra, we heard raised voices. Two oldsters were standing in the aisle just ahead of us. They were facing each other, each in an aggressive stance. One of them tried to raise his arm, managing to get it just above his shoulder, and took a feeble swipe at the other, exclaiming, “And who sed dot you should be president ennyvay?”

My sons looked at me in wide-eyed horror, but I knew a teachable moment when I saw it. “Boys, this is it!” I said. “This is Jewish life. Right here in front of us!”

Both our sons became Rabbis.  You can’t say they weren’t warned.

***

So what do people in shul fight about?  Let me start to count the ways:

• Why don’t we start already, it’s 7:04!
• Not yet! We don’t start till 7:05!
• Why didn’t you give me shlishi?
• Why did you give him shlishi?
• We always do it this way and not that way. Why did you do it that way?
• We always do it that way and not this way. Why did you do it this way?
• The thermostat is broken—it’s too hot!
• The thermostat is broken—it’s freezing!
• SHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! No talking during davening!
• Who appointed you talking monitor? You’re shooshking is worse than their talking!
• No tachanun today! Whaddaya mean no tachanun?! Whaddaya mean whaddaya mean?!?!
• What’s taking so long? Step it up!
• What’s the rush? You have to catch a train?

There are so many things for people to get outraged about. In some cases a complainer stomps out.

• That’s it! I’m not davening here anymore!

Sometimes a fellow davener calms him down and he returns. And sometimes he doesn’t. As promised, this will be covered in a later post, under the heading, “Abandonment and Betrayal.”

***

Who you calling argumentative!

Jews are of two minds about Machloket. Some are rather proud of it. (“Two Jews—three opinions!”) Others are a bit embarrassed by squabbling. (Well, that’s how we are…”)

If you hang around Jews a lot, you can’t miss the arguments. But I suggest that anyone who thinks that arguing is special just to Jews needs to get out more.

I once met a man who was a retired Unitarian/Universalist minister.

Unitarians reject the Trinity but have no creed. Members can believe in any one of several religions, or in none. They focus on ethics and social justice.

“I was a minister for many years,” said the man I met, “but I finally retired when I could no longer deal with the arguments.”

This interested me. With so much theological leeway, what is there to argue about?  I asked him what the disputes were.

“We sometimes had musical performances at services,” he said. “Some congregants, pleased or moved by the performance, wanted to applaud. Others were strongly against clapping in a house of worship.

“It grew quite bitter,” he said, “and I couldn’t get anywhere trying to calm everybody down. So I quit.”

Someone is likely to point that, at least in the US, many Unitarians used to be Jews. But no one can say that about Jonathan Swift.

In Gulliver’s Travels Swift describes two irreconcilable factions in Lilliput: those who ate their soft-boiled eggs starting with the big end of the egg on top (the “Big-Endians”) and those who started with the other side (the “Little-Endians.”)  A great and irreconcilable Machloket, modeled on the Church of England and the Vatican. Not a Jew in sight.

You had better agree with me, because you don’t want to mess with a shul cat. I am liable to let you know that you don’t cover your mouth well enough when you cough and pose a health risk to the whole minyan!