Sundown last night was 9:45 p.m. Since we had made arrangements with Rabbi Sholom Krinsky at the Chabad of Vilnius to attend Shabbat services at the Great Choral Synagogue Friday night followed by dinner at Chabad, I was worried about the timing. Would we be eating dinner at 11 pm? I was relieved to learn that services started at 8 (or at least that was the theory). We arrived a few minutes before 8 and ran into a nice-looking young man (probably about my son's age, although that seems so young now) who welcomed us and showed us around the shul. The synagogue, built in the Romanesque-Moorish style, dates to 1903. It is the only one of about 100 synagogues that existed before World War II. During the Nazi regime is was used to house medical and other supplies.
By 8 there were 3 people in the synagogue besides Beth and me, and we don't count as a minyan. In case you might know know what a minyan is, it defines that prayer cannot take place without 10 people; in Orthodoxy, that means 10 men. Beth and I were escorted upstairs to the women's section, the only two women who would attend services that evening. The cantor arrived around 8:10 and the rabbi around 8:20, but, still, there weren't 10 men in the building. This gave us an opportunity to take some photos from a different perspective.
An unusual aspect of the synagogue is the old matzah-making machine for Passover that sits in the women's section. The congregation makes its own matzah for sale to the local Jewish community of about 500 people. Some reviews online suggested that the machine is no longer used, but our guide the following morning said that her family only goes to the synagogue once a year -- to buy the matzah for Passover.
By 8:30 there were a few more than 10 men present, and the service began with the cantor chanting Mincha, the afternoon service. I was enthralled with his passion, hands moving up to embrace G-d and out to welcome Him in. Finally, Rabbi Krinsky stepped up to the bimah and spoke in Lithuanian for a few minutes, so neither of us had any idea about what he was saying. That was followed by the evening service. Several of the other men contributed by reading prayers, and we noticed that some of them had paper copies of a transliteration of the siddur. The service was brief, and soon we were all walking together for about 15 minutes to the Chabad House for Shabbat dinner.
Since the candles had already been lit and the prayers recited, I was no longer able to take photos, but the evening was pure chaos. The rabbi has four children -- two young adults and two young ones. His assistant, the schlicha from Israel, and his pregnant wife has four little ones and a former Vilnius resident and his Russian wife brought who return to Vilnius every summer had one adorable 2 year old. And they all liked to scream, cry, play soccer, run around, and scream some more. Later another 3 or 4 children arrived with their young families who had not been to services adding the the chaos. At the end of the evening, as the rabbi was attempting to lead birkat hamazon, the prayer said after a meal in which people congregate, the rabbi and I were exchanging frustrated glances. By the way, the rabbi is from Boston and his wife from Brooklyn, but they have been in Vilnius for thirty years. Their lovely daughter who occupied most of our conversation for the evening is on her way back to Brooklyn to make a life for herself there.
After birkat hamazon the rabbi and his wife walked Beth and me back to our hotel, just a short 10 minute walk from the Chabad House. It was a raucous evening with good food, way too much food (I thought the appetizers were dinner and filled up before the matzo ball soup), and a unique experience. Had we not gone to services, we would not have been able to visit the interior of the synagogue since it is closed to the public on Saturdays.
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