Georgian Shabbat - Part 1

On Friday night I decided to go to the Choral Synagogue again. Who knew that there's a Georgian Jewish community that meets in the small chapel upstairs. I have a feeling that the majority of the people that attended the shul last weekend on Saturday morning were Ashkenazim and most likely attend the nearby Chabad on Friday nights. I didn't realize it was Georgian until I saw a color weekly newsletter written in Hebrew, Georgian, and Russian. Why in the world would I know Georgian script when I saw it? Don't ask, let's just say it has to do with pipelines. I don't know how these Jews came to settle here in St. Petersburg; they probably came at some point prior to the fall of the FSU. They were very welcoming to me, and all of them came up to say Shabbat Shalom to me at the end of the services.

I have to admit it brought back a lot of memories from France. When I studied there, I also went often to a Sephardic synagogue, and there are a number of similarities to how that largely North African community conducted its services and this one. For one, the sephardic custom for Kabbalat Shabbat (welcoming the Sabbath) is to go around the room singing one line of the Song of Songs at a time. It's kind of a free for all: the man who is singing loud enough after about 5 seconds gets to finish the sentence. So, that creates a very confusing experience if you don't know where they are.

One big difference between this community and the one in France is the level of education about the Jewish prayer service and traditions. The man sitting next to me was reading a Georgian transliteration of it; there was no Hebrew at all in his book. A number of times in the service the men argued about how to complete a prayer or which prayer should be next. It is pretty amazing how suppressed these communities have been and how they are trying to re-learn the traditions of their ancestors.

I also remembered from France last night that I will never be able to replicate or sound like a praying Sephardi. The normal tune has a sort of staccato rhythm, with quick, unmelodic high and low notes, and with little fluctuations at the end of each sentence that have very little rhyme or reason. Let's just say that when I try to sing along I sound like a combination of a wet cat and an off-key yodeler. One interesting thing was that at the end of the service they all made their way up to the Ark cover and gave it a kiss. Then, one of the men, Yaakov, invited me to dinner next week. I look forward to filling you all in on the cuisine.