‘Song of praise’ ignites memories

I’m not a writer as such. Words for me wait to find expression through song, voice – physical, or poetic form. However, it’s interesting that when being asked to pen something, it focuses your thoughts in a different way to the embodied form.

As an actress and theatre maker, I work with my instinct. Always. Here I was, a very secular Jew, being asked to write a piece on Rosh Hashanah.

As I drove down Glenhove Road thinking about this, I immediately heard what I will refer to as the “prayer of praise” that was my dad’s favourite – and then mine.

I was immediately filled with a quiet joy as I remembered the enormous pride I felt when I saw my dad standing on the bimah. He always sang in the choir.

I was flooded with memories of the old Linksfield Synagogue where Dr Yageel was a formidable presence, and Rabbi Isaac Goss and later Rabbi Avigdor Bokov presided.

This was the synagogue of my youth, and some of my adulthood. I started to cry as that melody hit me in the gut. My tears were of deep belonging, and longing for that belonging.

I saw myself as a young kid, in my new Rosh Hashanah clothes that were at times sewn by my mom, and later, when my parents could afford more, were bought from a boutique in Norwood. The name escapes me, but it was a Rosh Hashanah ritual to come to shul in our brand-new clothes for a grand new year.

The shul was always packed. You couldn’t find a seat. My sisters and cousins played outside with our “shul friends”, and then looked forward to a gathering large and loud at a relative’s home. It was the mid-1980s. Before our vast family scattered across the globe.

In the late 1990s, I went to live in New York City. During my time there, I searched for the synagogue of my childhood. It was a long search. Sometimes it was easier to stay home on the high holy days, and not go to shul at all, as the feeling of dislocation, of not belonging, was so strong.

One year on Rosh Hashanah, my friend, Darrill, and I stumbled upon a shul on the Upper West Side. It had a similar feel to Linksfield even though it was conservative. You didn’t have to pay to enter, which was welcoming too. It had a gorgeous choir led by a magnificent female chazan. We sat together – male and female – which felt a little strange yet comforting. And then they sang that “song of praise” with that same melody, and for a brief few moments, I belonged in a country that wasn’t my home.

I now reside in Johannesburg. My parents and sisters live in America. I have spent many a Rosh Hashanah there, wanting to be with my immediate family, but also escaping the loss of the huge extended family that once lived here.

These times are triggers of longing for what once was, but also times of deep gratitude for what is.

My dad is in the winter of his life now. We have had many “last” Rosh Hashanahs with him. With COVID-19 and travel restrictions, this year we’ll be celebrating on different continents.

I will hold my dad in my heart, and in my being, as I hear the “prayer of praise” which is actually the mourner’s kaddish, but on Rosh Hashanah and at the end of the Ne’ilah service on Yom Kippur, it’s sung with buoyancy, strength, and great optimism.

Shana tova.

• Gina Shmukler is an actress, director, and theatre maker.