The Capital of Selichot: Four people, one hundred and twenty years, and one prayer in Nachlaot

Fourteen years ago, four people stood in the 'Ohavai Zion' synagogue in Nachlaot and recited Selichot. Tonight (Wednesday), at 12:30 AM, hundreds are expected to arrive.

'We started gathering people and there were only four of us,' says Tomer HaCohen, 38, a resident of Nachlaot and the great-grandson of one of the synagogue's founders. 'Slowly, more and more people started arriving, until by the end of the month there were many worshippers. From year to year, it just kept growing.' His grandfather, who is currently in need of nursing care, previously served as the synagogue's gabbai.

The synagogue is marking 120 years since its founding this year. It was established in 1906 by the Association of Persian Immigrants as a community center to look after the welfare of the community members. Among its veteran worshippers was the Banai family. During the 20th century, the place declined, until the great-grandson decided to bring the early morning Selichot back to it.

'The public is a full partner'

The order in the place is the opposite of what is customary: first, a spontaneous jam session is held with musical instruments, and only afterwards do the Selichot themselves begin, accompanied by shofars and with the active participation of the audience. 'There is no one cantor who leads,' says HaCohen. 'The public is a full partner. We divide the prayer sections among the worshippers, and thus everyone feels part of it.' In the corner, coffee, tea, and cookies await those who come.

'Hundreds of worshippers arrive every evening - Sephardim, Ashkenazim, Mizrahim, religious, secular, and Haredim,' he says. 'The young generation is returning to its roots. It takes the tradition and makes it relevant, accessible, and alive. There are people who come especially from afar, even after a two-hour drive, once a month, just to experience this atmosphere.'

This is the phenomenon that has characterized the Jerusalemite Elul in recent years: not only the abundance of rites, which was always here, but also the movement of a crowd that is not necessarily observant into the old synagogues, in the middle of the night.

'Something in the heart opens all at once'

Rabbi Itiel Goldwich, a resident of the Nachlat Achim neighborhood, leads groups of young people, high-tech workers, bank CEOs, and senior figures in the economy through the city's alleys every Elul. 'When you arrive at the end of a busy day in the center of the country straight to the Jerusalemite alleys at night, something in the heart opens all at once,' he says. 'You see secular people there singing together, stopping the race of life, and reconnecting to their identity and roots. This is not just a prayer, but an internal and deep connection of every person to themselves. Whoever comes once simply returns here every year anew.'

---

A few kilometers away, in Rehavia, Elul sounds completely different. The 'Knesset HaHeichal' minyan is the minyan of those from Rome, and the prayer rite in it is neither Ashkenazi nor Sephardic, but the ancient 'Bnei Romai' rite, within which remnants of the ancient Land of Israel rite have been preserved.

Yonatan, who made aliyah from Rome in 1997, explains the origin of the name: ''Knesset HaHeichal' is named after an ancient synagogue in Rome, which was founded back when the Temple still existed.' The original synagogue was destroyed about a hundred years ago. The Jerusalemite minyan was founded a decade ago in the hall of the 'Evelina de Rothschild' school. During the COVID-19 period, the worshippers were forced to leave the place, and after searching, they renewed their activity at the Jerusalem Institute.

The community has meanwhile become a mandatory stop for visitors from Italy. 'On a regular Shabbat, about 100 people pray with us, and on holidays about 200,' says Yonatan. 'This Shabbat, for example, 50 children from Rome and Milan arrived. We have many traditions concerning the young - children have been reading the Haftarah with us on a regular basis since the first grade.'

He places their liturgical uniqueness much deeper in history: 'In the Friday night rite, we use a text that appears in the Tosefta, from the customs of the people of Jerusalem in the Middle Ages and the Second Temple period - a tradition that survived only with us. The melodies are also unique to us.'

---

In the heart of the Jewish Quarter, in the complex of the four Sephardic synagogues, the distance between the rites is reduced to a few walls. The complex was evacuated in 1948, and some of its worshippers were expelled or taken captive. For 25 years, no prayer was said in it. After the liberation of Jerusalem in 1967, it underwent a comprehensive process of rehabilitation and restoration, and in 1973 it returned to operation.

Evyatar, who has been managing the place for 50 years, describes the division between the synagogues. The 'Yochanan ben Zakkai' synagogue, also known as 'Istanbul', prays according to the rite of the Eastern communities and holds Selichot every day in the month of Elul. Next to it, the 'Eliyahu HaNavi' synagogue was allocated to the Ashkenazi community.

'That is where the Ashkenazi population that did not pray according to the rite of the Eastern communities concentrated, and it was one of the first to return to operation in the Old City,' he says. The Selichot in the place begin according to the Ashkenazi custom, on the Saturday night before Rosh Hashanah, and on Saturdays about 50 regular worshippers gather there.

Mayor Moshe Lion stated: 'Jerusalem is the capital of Selichot of the Jewish people, and its power lies in the huge variety it has to offer. From traditional rites that preserve roots from different countries, through youth minyans that connect all parts of society, to the veteran minyans in the Old City - everyone can find in Jerusalem the prayer that touches them.'

Concluding this journey, we look at Yaakov Vals, who for 30 years served as a ba'al tfila (prayer leader) in the 'Eliyahu HaNavi' synagogue. Vals, from the Modzitz Hasidim, was a master of Hasidic melodies. About a decade ago, he stopped praying there, but his rite did not disappear: 'His son comes every year especially from Ra'anana for the Rosh Hashanah prayers, to preserve the tradition. The worshippers enjoy it very much.'

What started in Nachlaot with four people continues today thanks to the efforts of those who do not let traditions disappear. This, in the end, is the whole Torah of the Jerusalemite Elul: someone has to make the effort.