Torah Portion:	Korach
Synagogue:	Katanga Caulfield Beit Hamedrash, modern orthodox Chasidish
Walking time from home:	25 mins
Reason for going:	Something different
Kiddush:	Small but traditional

As previously mentioned on this blog, one of the reasons why Melbourne has so many shules is because there have been many breakaways and de-amalgamations over the years which have formed new communities. Sometimes these occur because of a dispute with the rabbi and a community coalesces around the rabbi resulting in a new shule, and sometimes because some of the congregants disagree with the direction of a particular shule and part ways to form a new one.

By far the most successful of these – if longevity is one of the measures – is the Caulfield Beit Hamedrash, which got its colloquial name of Katanga from a small African nation which broke away from the Congo in 1960 and claimed independence – the same year that the new home of the shule was built on Glen Eira Road. A number of families first broke away from Mizrachi in the 1950s and started to meet in private home until land was secured and a new synagogue could be built. The shule has thrived ever since, and though they initially decided not to appoint a rabbi and have never had one, they have succeeded in building a community and a loyal following.

Several decades ago Katanga was known as the shule of disputes that sometimes resulted in fisticuffs, but that reputation is no longer warranted. In fact, the president (who I have known for many years) made a point of telling me that he considers Katanga to be one of the most open and least judgemental shules in all of Melbourne. There is a gay couple that attends regularly and is openly embraced, there are often people who turn up in t-shirts on Shabbat and there are many who come just for the kiddush – especially for their monthly extravaganza – and not for the service, and all of these things are accepted and are a point of pride. Of course there are other shules that have a lot more diversity to be sure, but amongst the orthodox shules in town, some would frown on such behaviour. On top of that, since there is no rabbi and no one with real authority, there is also no one to tell people how to behave, so there is often chatter in the shule and as such, according to the president, a very friendly vibe, which I certainly noticed. Many people said hello even if they didn’t know me, and there were numerous friendly but whispered conversations throughout the service.

However, the big caveat on all of that is that the shule is friendly and welcoming for men, but women are very much an afterthought, and the regular congregants readily agree with that. In fact, some said that they only come to this shule when their wives aren’t able to come to shule at all because most women do not feel entirely comfortable, unless there is a celebration of some sort, or it is Yom Tov when other women are there. This week, when there was no Simcha, there were 50-60 men, but only about 5 women and none of them stayed for the kiddush. In fact, I didn’t even really see them at all, except their shadowy movements behind the curtain.

To me, no matter how friendly a shule is, this is very much a drawback. The regulars and leaders of the shule agree, but equally say that as a result, this is one of the only shules in Melbourne that harks back to the shtetls of Eastern Europe and to a time when women didn’t feel the need to come to shule. Katanga in general is a congregation that is steeped in the traditions of the past. Most of the announcements are still made in Yiddish (though usually then translated into English, but not always), herring is the mainstay of the kiddush and although the shule is very much a modern orthodox community, many of the congregants are old-school Chasidish and although most of the people are Ashkenaz, the service is Sefard (as opposed to Sefardi). Yet at the same time, because of the Mizrachi DNA, the shule is also very Zionist, with not just a regular prayer for Israel, but Pslams for Israel as well, which stems from the time of the Six Day War in 1967. There was no sermon because there is no rabbi, but like the shules of old, there was instead a small shiur (class) immediately after the service just before the kiddush. As a male I felt relatively comfortable throughout, but I equally felt for the women who weren’t there.