I grew up going to services. A lot of services. I was adept at counting the ceiling tiles, reaching into the thousands as my grasp of numbers grew more sophisticated. The melodies became part of my life soundtrack; I hummed them as my mind wandered during the rabbi’s sermon.
Growing up on Long Island my family belonged to a 350-family congregation. Each year I happily anticipated the High Holiday services and the sense of belonging I felt when I entered the sanctuary.