4 minute read
Two Sabbath Visits to the Great Synagogue of Rome
October 2024
By Cantor Elias Roochvarg
Friday evening, having sent in my information weeks in advance, I walked the 1.5 miles to attend Friday night services at the Tempio Maggiore, Rome's biggest and most architecturally impressive synagogue.
Services were a bit of a disappointment: Either because of the age of the building (early 20th century), or due to some objection on halachic grounds, there was no air conditioning, only two large fans in the front. They were not large enough to have much impact beyond the first few rows. No microphone was used, and the leader faced the ark, so he was difficult to hear. And there was virtually no congregational singing! Even in as traditionally congregational a prayer as the Lecha Dodi. Perhaps the most remarkable part of the service was the male choir. For the entire service, whenever they sang, they only sang in unison, never harmonizing. It gave their participation the flavor of Gregorian chant.
I would ordinarily wear a jacket to services, but due to the heat wave, I didn't. I was relieved to find, upon arrival, that none of the men wore a jacket. One fellow came in wearing one, looked around and took it off. When the cantor came in, he was wearing a long robe and mitre. I hoped, for his sake, that he was not wearing a jacket beneath the robe.
The next morning, Linda and I rode to services. When we got out, before we had even entered the synagogue, we were met by a friendly, elderly gent, who welcomed us and, in labored English, informed us that the synagogue featured two simultaneous services: the formal one in the main sanctuary and the less formal one in the downstairs chapel. (I had thought that one was Ashkenazic and one Sephardic, but studied further and learned that Roman Jews consider themselves part of a tradition that is neither Ashkenazic nor Sephardic; they consider themselves descended from those Jews who arrived in Rome 2,000 years ago, not those who fled from Spain or Eastern Europe in the Middle Ages. That would explain the "Gregorian" flavor of Friday services!)
Our friend told us that whereas there was little if any congregational participation upstairs, which I already knew, the downstairs service was warm and participatory. He added that whereas the women were all in the balcony in the upstairs service, downstairs they were in the same room as the men, divided only by a mechitza. When he saw we were undecided, he added two more arguments: "Our service ends half an hour before theirs, and it's much cooler downstairs," which won us over!
In terms of congregational participation, our new and as yet unnamed friend had not exaggerated. For much of the service, the congregation completed every verse the leader started! The melodies were simple enough to make it easy to join in. They are Orthodox, so like their Ashkenazic brethren, they do every word of every prayer, a full repetition of the Amidah and a full Torah reading. This week's portion included the Ten Commandments. And all according to ancient Roman ritual.
At the end of services, our friend asked where we were staying. I told him the name of our hotel and its distance from the temple. He asked if we would accept a ride back to the hotel. In view of the heat, we gratefully accepted his offer. On the trip back to the hotel, he introduced himself. His name is Giorgio, but he told us that his real name was Shlomo. Apparently, when he was about 2 years old, the Italian Fascists came to his home to take him away. They asked what was his name, and a fast-thinking relative said, "Giorgio." With such a beautiful Italian name, the Nazis felt the baby could not actually be Jewish, so they left him with his family. He has never forgotten his good fortune.
He was driving us in his Mercedes, and so we asked what he did for a living. He told us that he owns a few boutiques all over the world that specialize in gloves with Italian leather. The boutiques are called Sermoneta, which apparently is his last name. Neither he nor I had our business cards with us, but we said that perhaps our paths would cross again.
So on one Sabbath, I experienced two different styles of service and met a remarkable fellow Jew.
