Rosh Hashanah in Beijing

Wednesday marked the beginning of Rosh Hashanah and I figured I needed to find a place to celebrate the Jewish New Year because I had skipped the past two years: last year we were in the frenzy of getting ready to move to China, and the year before I was days away from getting married. My Jewish guilt was officially sinking in.

Thanks to a colleague here in Beijing, my search didn't take long. I found Kehillat Beijing, an amazing Jewish organization that puts together everything from Shabbat dinners to bike rides around the city. (My favorite thing is their URL: www.sinogogue.org).

On the eve of Rosh Hashanah, I arrived at a banquet hall that was outfitted to be a synagogue -- complete with a black lacquered Chinese armoire serving as the Ark (where the Torah is held). I was smitten.

The room was packed with Americans, Europeans, South Americans and Asians. I was surprised by the diversity -- my Nashville version of Jewish services usually involved white women donning pearls and too much perfume -- and it reminded me of the Yom Kippur I spent in Paris, with one of my aunt's friends. Despite different languages, the melodies and prayers all sounded the same in Beijing and in Nashville and in Paris. There was something quite comforting about this universal call of worship.

But the coolest part of the evening was meeting the woman sitting next to me, a Chinese citizen named Esther. She is from a city east of Beijing called Tianjin and she's been coming to Kehillat events for the past six months. Raised a Christian, she visited Israel last year and was fascinated by Judaism, a religion she never had the opportunity to learn about growing up in China. She told me it felt like a better fit for her -- more laid back and flexible than Christianity. She felt she could practice her way and didn't have to spread it to others.

I was fascinated by Esther. I had never met a Chinese Jew before, much less any religious Chinese so far. She told me how she's learning to read Hebrew and how she comes to services every Friday night. When I asked if she wanted to convert, she looked at me sadly and told me she can't. In China, Judaism is not recognized as a religion and it's against the law to convert. She said she'll have to go to Hong Kong if she decides to go that route.

After the service, which was led by a Rabbi who had flown in from New Mexico, Esther and I exchanged business cards. I asked her if I'd see her for Yom Kippur next week and she told me she was purposely delaying the national holiday here to stay for services. I was shocked.

Let me put this in context: Oct. 1 through Oct. 7 is National Week, when the entire country shuts down and travels, spending time with family and taking a much-needed break from work. So for Esther to not go home until Oct. 4, once Yom Kippur is over, is sort of like someone in the U.S. working on the Fourth of July.

I understood why she delayed her trip, though, when she told me her parents don't know about her interest in Judaism. "They'd kill me if they ever found out," she said.

Her comment struck me for a variety of reasons. For one, Esther's choice is another example of a Chinese young adult branching out, but still being held back by societal norms. Her choice also made me excited, knowing that she is trying to find her own ways, as hard as it may be.

Her story is a great reminder of how we can grow and evolve and choose our own paths. For those celebrating, L'Shana Tova. May the new year bring happiness and health.