They say my zaydeh used to stamp on the grapes himself to make his wine. I never knew whether to believe them or not, but the vision is alive in my mind of my very short Yiddish-speaking zaydeh up to his knees in dark red juice.
He was the reverend and chazan of Brakpan Shul for 40 years. He had the Altshuler voice, which rang through the shul every yom tov.
However, my early memories of shul are of the Etz Chayim Shul, which my German grandfather, my oupa, helped to establish. He and a close friend brought a box of siddurim with them on the boat from Germany in 1936. They used these to establish the shul.
The cheder they started from their adjoining maisonettes in Doornfontein grew to become the beautiful Etz Chayim Shul in Barnato Park, which served the German Jews who fled the Holocaust.
And what a shul it was! Filled with pomp and ceremony, I remember feeling intimidated by the grandeur, the plush cream seats, the men in the box wearing their Homburg hats, and the chazan wrapped in a long black robe with his silken chazan’s hat perched on his head.
And then the service began, exciting and uplifting at first, the Ashkenazi nussachunusual to my King David-Hebrew-trained ears.
Sitting next to my mom and attempting to follow in the Adler machzor would keep the younger me busy for a while. But not for all that long. Inevitably boredom set in.
The only thing to look forward to was yizkor, when we girls fled to the pink brides’ room to hang out together and chill for a precious bit of time.
And then we had to go back to shul, to examine the ladies’ pillbox hats with the netting dotted with fake pearls pulled down over the face, and to dissect their outfits.
And finally, home for a fancy and delicious yom tov meal, with the Noritake dinner service and crystal dessert bowls gracing the table. My mom’s famous pickled brisket in sweet and sour sauce made all the waiting worthwhile. And for dessert, her triple layered cassata ice cream topped it off.
But what has stayed with me into my adult years, I ask myself? The stirring melodies, the rousing Anim Zemiros, the picture of the sea of talleisim while looking down from upstairs as each person stood before his maker, have left an indelible mark on my soul.
The decorum and dignity with which these yekke (German) Jews treated their synagogue taught me a way of relating to shul which has remained with me to this day. I have no doubt that I drew from all of this beauty when I decided to become religious as a young adult. It was these early memories of the power and grandeur of the Rosh Hashanah service and our family traditions that formed the bedrock of my chosen path and all that came with it.
I’m so deeply grateful.
- Rebbetzin Wendy Hendler is co-founder and director of Koleinu, the helpline for victims of abuse in the South African Jewish community.
