In twos and threes the men arrive,
clean, well dressed, solemn.
Prayer shawls in packages tucked
under arms, white or colored caps
perched upon balding heads.

The building greets them,
swallows them up like sugar.
They mingle and mix as they unpack
their shawls, kiss the words on them,
drape them over their shoulders
and pick up prayer books.

It doesn’t matter if blind Sam or crazy Phil
or your angry brother-in-law are there.
All are greeted with ‘good Shabbas’,
and a nod, a handshake or a bow.
All Jews deserve a good rest. A day of peace.
Cessation from hostilities and grievances.
Ha-shem in his wisdom knew this.

In this place, all mitzvahs are honored.
All grief is shared. All joys lift all members.
Place of study. Place of learning.
Place of community. Place of shared meals.
Place of belonging. Place of holidays.
Place of fond memories and dear friends.
Our schul. Our synagogue.