A good place in heaven

Shop window, Oxford Street

‘Do you do much of this type of work? Catering?’

The woman looks up at me from under tight gold curls. I am putting out Haggadot at a communal Passover meal in London’s West End. To be honest, I didn’t even know there was a synagogue here until Dan invited me – a synagogue here, between Top Shop, Primark and the filthy grey streets.

I’m putting the Haggadot out because, frankly, I feel really shy. I know no one here apart from Dan – and he’s busy with last-minute stuff. I would rather help Dan and the Macedonian catering crew (‘Matzah – that’s like, the body of Christ, right?’) than stand awkwardly with this well-groomed crowd who are all, apparently, comfortable, and know exactly what to do.

‘Do you do much of this – catering work?’ the woman wants to know. She’s stopped me to ask for a ‘better’ Haggadah – a larger one, with pictures in.

‘I’m not working. I’m here for the Seder like you,’ I say.

‘I didn’t mean anything by it. Come on, dear – sit by me.’ There's space next to her, so I sit. Dan does too. He’s brought his own Haggadah – with hassidic explanations in. We find the place, which I lose again when he goes back to the kitchen to help out.

Nechama is 70. She has bright, lapis-lined eyes and lives off the Holloway Road. She used to be a prison officer – the only Jewish one, ever, in Holloway women’s jail. She stopped going to shul after the rabbi criticised her non-kosher pots. But it’s Pesach, and her sister’s here from New York and she just wanted to, somehow. So she came.

Nechama has crutches and finds it hard to stand. I fetch water so that she can wash for bread. ‘You’ll get a good place in heaven,’ she says. Her sister, Esther, helps serve the food. There are lots of people – maybe a hundred – and the Macedonian crew is finding it hard to keep up. I help serve too, when I’m not talking to Nechama, doling out bowls of watery soup with carrot and matzah meal. People lean back so I can put it down in front of them. They do not say ‘thank you’ or look me in the eye.

‘What’s this?’ says one – a young American with pale blond hair. I look at her. I’m still holding out the soup. She looks at me back. ‘Is this vegetarian? I ordered the vegetarian option.’

‘I don’t know,’ I say, holding the bowl out until she takes it. If Passover is about overcoming our limitations, I realise, I’m not doing too well.

Back at the table, Nechama and Esther have scoped the room out for potential mates – for me, that is, not them. ‘What about him?’ asks Esther, through her teeth, nodding at a guy across the table.

‘I think he’s gay,’ I say.

‘The quiet ones are always best.’

‘Or him?’ Nechama says, of a South African to my right, who’s just told me he has a non-Jewish girlfriend with three kids.

Nechama married young. ‘It didn’t work.’ She curls her lip. ‘But’ – she brightens – ‘when I was 40 I met a man. He was much younger – 25 – and we were together until he died. Sixteen years.’ She smiles. ‘Not Jewish,’ she adds, out of the corner of her mouth.

People are leaving. The meal is done. I play with Mendel, the Rabbi’s son, in the kitchen where Dan is. Then Mendel sits on his father's knee wailing for the closing prayers. Except it’s not wailing – he’s crooning along with his dad’s niggunim. This is loud because we’re all silent. A white-faced man with dark circles under his eyes winces as he glances the baby’s way.

I think of the synagogue in Jaffa, near me. Sometimes I walk there on Saturday to hear them sing. Windows always open – raucous prayer flung out to the street. Colourful headscarves and khol. 

Tonight, I listen to the Rabbi sing. I want his voice to reach heaven, and with it carry some of my prayers. 

Nechama has to go – her ride is here. She can hardly walk but will accept no help. Rising onto her crutches, she begins the slow, painful ascent to the street.

Comments

[Lisa Goldman]

Subtle, sweet and thoughtful. Message received. :)) xx

[DLowe]

I feel bad for abandoning you that night! But you landed on your feet with Nechama and her sister :) A very nice piece. Thank you for sharing it.

[liz helman]

i didnt know there was a synagague there either...i must be a bad jew!..;)..better investigate..nice words...