Drama in the Boca Resort

A Yeshiva student was having a discussion with his rabbi.

“Someday, I too hope to become a rabbi,” said the youth. “Aside from my studies, is there any other all-important qualification I will need?”

“Yes, the stimulus of imagination,” replied the rabbi. “You will have to imagine that somebody is paying attention to what you say.”

***

Call me a greenhorn if you will, but for me this was the first time praying on the High Holidays outside the confines of the Chassidic community in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. This year, I traveled as far out culturally as one possibly can: I returned to Florida, where prayers were held in one of the most prestigious resorts in the world, the Boca Resort.

Part of the package deal of being (or wanting to be) a writer, is that one must always keep his eyes open for good writing material. Ears are always perked and eyes may not rest, for ‘here comes some juicy story.’

So naturally, this Rosh Hashanah, I was out looking for some drama. The woman whose wails would resonate throughout the auditorium, the man who would stand up in front of the congregation and commit himself to breaking up with his non-Jewish girlfriend… the works, you know.

Granted, I did have the great merit to watch as a Jew “bought” an Aliya to the Torah for $100,000! The second runner was pretty close behind. And a Jew parting from his money is pretty dramatic, there’s no doubt about it. Yet somehow, that didn’t do it for me. I was looking for the mushy stuff.

The days passed swiftly in a tiresome marathon of praying, eating and sleeping. And now I sit before the computer screen, pondering recollections of the charged weekend. Nothing seems to stand out. Different? Yes. Unique? Of course! But nothing to warrant the eye twitches of a journalist.

My Jewish sensibilities finally take over the journalistic perspective. Hello! Hundreds of Jews, men and women who hardly ever make it to the synagogue throughout the year, individuals who almost deny their Jewish heritage, felt compelled to come and sit for hours of unfamiliar prayers just because they are Jewish. Is that not awesome?

I was expecting the sights of Moscow circa 1990 the first Rosh Hashanah after the fall of communism, or, better yet, the emotions of Yom Kippur in Bergen Belsen 1946. But that is not what brings out the quality of our people, not as much as a bunch of contented Floridians leaving the comfort of their homes, in middle of a regular Thursday, just to experience G-d.

How awesome are your children, oh G-d?