Should A Rabbi Say She'he'chiyanu For Her First Mass?

Really, that was my first thought as I left Mass last Wednesday for the first time.  My colleagues and I had spent a day at The Shrine of St. Anthony.  While I was expecting a "professional development" day, because with Jewish educator ears, that is how we use the word retreat, I was surprised that the entire day was filled with reflection and prayer.

Don't get me wrong.  Being a part of the Jewish community, I pray regularly.  Jewish prayer takes place three times a day, and on Shabbat and holidays the service is extended.  At a retreat of Jewish educators there might be a morning service...maybe, and for sure a blessing before a meal.  But my retreat at St. Anthony's was something all together different.

I learned many things on our retreat.  I learned the difference between a Shrine and a Parish Church. (Shrines are more insular, dedicated to a Saint, and often like this one, have a relic.)  I learned about the deep history of my school and how for generations the Sisters of Oblate not only focussed on formally educating children of color in school, but in a way that was holistic, working with their families and the larger neighborhood community.  We talked about the challenges facing our students.  We talked about the greater challenges facing Baltimore and how our students are being most affected.  I learned the word Sankofa, an African word from Akan tribe in Ghana which is the idea that "we cannot truly move forward without first going back to the past, understanding it and embodying all of it as seeds of wisdom for the future." And all of this learning was blanketed in ritual and prayer.  I had no idea what to expect, and I certainly did not know how to fully participate.  I know that my experience exposed me to different expressions of holiness and the Divine.

Mass was another new experience. I love ritual, I love ritual items and ritual clothes. Mass is filled with it all.   I was amazed that nobody was using a "siddur" prayerbook. Everybody knew the liturgy. Everybody knew the responses, when to bow, and the words of the hymns.  here was a spectacular choreography to it all. The priests entering the sanctuary, the Eucharist, the recessional.  I was there as a spectator, and that is the role I will continue to play, but being a spectator in somebody else's sacred space means that you have to be open to realizing that the space is truly sacred.

What stuck with me the most is Sankofa. The idea of Sankofa is sacred in Judaism. We use our past to inform our present, and hope for the future.  For 2000 years we have allowed our past to teach us, shape us, and bind us together as a Jewish community spread throughout the world.

I feel blessed to have now an Akan word, taught to me by nuns, in a sacred space that was not my own, to describe our Jewish existence.