Beth Israel Congregation, Feb. 10, 2011- by Limantina Sihaloho

Friday night, November 19, 2010: I like to remember this day when I was sitting next to Gale Shapiro and Ainsworth Thompson at Congregation Beth Israel, 701 Farmington Ave, West Hartford, CT. Both Gale and Ainsworth were my classmates at Hartford Seminary. Gale is Jewish and Ainsworth is a unique person who has his own way in believing what it means to be faithful to God and how a person can learn to become a better one by learning to believe and to do.

It was my second time to be there at Congregation Beth Israel. I was there before on Friday night, October 15, 2010. I was amazed with the sermon given by Cindy Rivka Marshall, a story teller who presented a story about Abraham’s mother.

Throughout my teenager and adult life,  even when I was a student at theological department at Universitas Kristen Duta Wacana in Jogjakarta, Indonesia, I was not aware of Abraham’s mother. Cindy played a solo performance as Abraham’s mother; how this mother was sad and somehow hopeless to see her son and daughter-in-law leave Ur and her behind, wondering if they would come back one day.

When I was listening to Cindy, sitting in between two of my classmates (Gale Saphiro and Daranee Waraseth), I was sad; I got tears in my eyes, my soul was broken to see an old mother, Abraham’s mother, being left just like that. It brought me home to Samosir Island in North Sumatra to my late beautiful grandmother. I used to see the coming of her oldest son, my Bapa Tua (Big Dad), from a far away place once in  several years for he was on duty in military service, and other three sons who adored her so much. It was always a great moment any time she got any of her sons or daughters came home to visit. I had no idea how my grandmother would feel if any of her sons or daughters, left her and never came back to visit.

I was able to talk with Cindy while having tea after the service. I do admire storyteller and dream to be one. I am laughing now; laughing to expect that I will be one day also a storyteller. Why not, right? I went to Yale University in New Haven on November 6, 2010 for an Indonesian Night, Colors of the Archipelago; on the way back to Hartford, I made up a funny story out of a question of a little kid to the four kids in the car. Later two of them would be my friends. I miss them now and will need to call their mother for a visit since they live in Manchester. Johanna, is in the first grade and one of her talents is to write. Her big sister, Jessica, is incredible in art and music. Being with them, I can feel like nothing but they do believe I am as good as them. They like my stories and my childhood experience, and when I come to their house, they want me to stay longer.

Stories reaches people and unites us humans no matter who we are. We all like stories, don’t we? We do feel the need to share our stories, don’t we? We all like stories without exception, it is our nature as human beings. Yet, it is sad that in our everyday life, many of us prefer to tell somebody else’s story instead of our own story, our own experience, for we think others are better than we are. I am not saying here that we do not need somebody else story, no. We do need a balance; listening to our fellow’s stories and also sharing own our stories. We are all precious before God, aren’t we? To become a human is to share and to receive, to give and to take. Once it is not in a balance, then something wrong happens. We know this is true not only about telling and listening to stories but also in many aspects of our life such as economy, politic, education, etc.

I will never forget that night, November 19, 2010, when Ingrid Mattson was giving a sermon, telling her story at Congregation Beth Israel. Any time I remember that night, I smile humbly and gratefully. There, a Christian, a Lutheran from Batak Land far away from the western part of Indonesia, sitting in a synagogue in Hartford, America, listening to a Muslim giving a sermon to hundreds of people, most of them Jewish.

I have been to several synagogues for the last 8 years, but it was the first time for me as a Christian to experience a Muslim preaching at a synagogue. Perfect, isn’t it? This is what I hope to see and experience more, at least in the three Abrahamic religions.

Again, Ingrid Mattson, this humble and kindhearted professor was telling her story and the story of Abraham. I like it when a person tells her/his story and binds it with stories from her/his holy book or other sources. I am sure that no one will take their ears away when a person is going to tell her/his story. As I said above, we humans, all want to tell our stories no matter who we are.

I can guess that most of the people who came that night to Congregation Beth Israel did know the story of Abraham, and were also familiar with the story of how relatives can share similar things as happened in Ingrid Mattson’s family. Many people from Hartford Seminary came, too. Nice. Everybody knows about Abraham, but why is it so unforgettable to have Ingrid Mattson preaching there? I dare to say that it is not only the fact that she is a Muslim preaching in a synagogue but in my humble opinion and feeling, she embodies what she preaches and by doing so people can easily connect themselves to her stories.

There is no point for me to listen to anyone telling things if I have no point to connect myself to what she/he is telling about. I am sorry, honestly, I have no idea what is left in me from the thousands of  sermons I heard to in many churches so far. I am so sorry. The pulpit is far and high in many churches, and that somehow distances what happens there from what happens with me. I only remember Luther’s sermon in that church in Luther, performed by Joseph Fiennes. Luther walks and talks to the people when giving a sermon. I like that.

To both the humble and extraordinary talented storyteller and professor, Cindy Rivka Marshall and Ingrid Mattson, thank you for your great performance and sermon at Beth Israel. Thank you to Rabbi Stephen Fuchs and Beth Israel Congregation members who welcomed us there warmly. ***