One of my biggest fears about coming to Rome was how I was going to observe the Jewish High Holidays. The Jewish High Holidays always fall at an odd time of year– school has started, midterms are usually underway, and the warmth of summer is giving way to the crisp breeze of Autumn. It’s an interim time, yet, for practicing Jews like my family, this is the time we come together as a family, revisit the mistakes of the past year, and ask for forgiveness to enter the next Jewish calendar year. Except, this year rather than returning home, I knew I would be in Rome.
Luckily for me, several of the other people in the Cornell in Rome program planned to celebrate the holiday as well. The main synagogue (Jewish term for house of worship) in Rome is called the “Tempio Maggiore”/ The Great Synagogue of Rome, and is located in the old Jewish Ghetto area of the city. Constructed in 1870 after the unification of Italy, it functions both as a historical cite and a place of worship for the people of Rome. In addition, its construction marked the end of a time when Jews were constrained to living in the ghetto, and inside are several markers of remembrance of the Holocaust. This history feels particularly important, as I’ve travelled across Europe and seen Jewish ghettos and continual reminders of the horrors of Nazi rule. Although synagogues in the US are often beautiful, they lack the same urgency that the conditions of oppression towards Jews in Europe created. With this in mind, I was excited to practice my religion in such an evidently important place.
However, at first, I felt extremely uncomfortable at the Roman synagogue. When we entered we had to undergo rigorous and invasive security measures. We were questioned and searched at the doors. This was because of the recent shootings in Germany near synagogues, yet it still felt like an unfriendly entrance. Because the synagogue is orthodox, all the women are forced to separate from the men and stand upstairs. We stood in cramped boxes above, watching as the men prayed closer to the Torah (Jewish holy book). I felt the same way I did when I first arrived abroad—confused, slightly isolated, and completely out of place. Yet, I still returned the second day, because what else was I supposed to do. I came expecting the worst, but my second visit surprised me. Having fasted all day (for Yom Kippur) all the Roman women seemed to adopt a solidarity in suffering. The upstairs was hot, and someone held up a lemon to my nose (a traditional practice to refresh and prevent fainting). When the time came to ring in the new year in joint prayer, I felt completely one with this new community. The service ended, the sun set, and we all smiled at each other in relief. It was definitely different then my service at home, but the relief and joy for the start of a new year felt the same, I left the synagogue and walked to a nearby pasta place to break my fast with my favorite—spaghetti Pomodoro. As I happily shoveled pasta into my mouth, I was grateful to have been able to celebrate this familiar tradition with my new friends in Rome.
Ciao for now!
Ariel