The sun rises early over the marbled brick building just off Meridian Street. A few cars begin pulling in around 8:15 a.m., but one has been there awhile. The white sedan is in front of Indianapolis Hebrew Congregation almost every day of the week, and is typically one of the first to arrive.
Especially on Sundays. Sundays are the culmination of the week’s work, when the synagogue is bustling with even more people than usual. The weekdays are usually calm, Friday evenings are busy for Shabbat services, Saturday mornings get a good crowd for a B’nai Mitzvah. But Sundays guarantee a building packed with parents and children – the pride of the community. Today is May 6, or 14 Iyyar, the last week of Sunday school this school year, 2011-2012/5772-5773.
The Director of Lifelong Learning steps out of her white sedan in a bright red blazer, the sun shining off of her golden hair, and walks around to the passenger door, hoisting her books and bags into her arms. She crosses the parking lot and enters the building for another day of teaching Judaism’s next generation.
“Good morning, Marcia!” She is greeted by Lea Coleman, the office manager.
The building smells faintly of sawdust, though no construction workers are around today. The construction is finally nearing an end and the rededication ceremonies are taking place this weekend. The new marble floor is slippery, but the staff has gotten used to stepping with care.
“Hi Lea. How are you?” She replies cheerfully as she makes her way past the glass sliding doors of the reception desk.
She is known by many names in the community. The staff knows her as Marcia, to the parents and some children, she is Mrs. G, and to many she is Huggie Bubbe. She prefers the younger children to call her by this name, which came about because of her love for hugs and the way many children think of her as a Jewish grandmother. She loves the name so much she condensed it to be her license plate.
Today is special. Marcia Goldstein would argue that every day is special, especially Sundays when she gets to see all of the families and their smiling faces. But today is extra special.
It is the last day of Sunday school. Sure, that comes around every year. But, this year, it also falls during the rededication weekend. Instead of normal classes, Marcia and a few teachers created a school-wide program to fit in with the weekend’s theme: “IHC’s Great History Mystery: Celebrating and Dedicating 155 Years.”
As families begin arriving, Mrs. Goldstein does her best to greet everyone that passes her, most of the time by name. As 10:00 a.m. nears, she makes her way toward the sanctuary, which had just been completed a few months before. Following the sanctuary’s completion, construction crews moved on to another area of the building, displacing Mrs. Goldstein from her office.
Usually, Mrs. Goldstein would pick up a stack of goldenrod programs – one sheet of 8.5×14 cardstock folded in half with songs and prayers on all four panels. The edges have softened and the corners curled through their use over the years. But today, she picks up different programs. These are freshly printed and have a different feel to them – more official. They are on beige paper and match the color of the Jerusalem stone flanking the arc in the sanctuary.
As she hands out the programs, she chats briefly with the parents and children passing through the sanctuary doors.
“How is your grandma doing, Jacob?” she asks a third grade boy who is accompanied by his mother.
“She’s feeling better,” he replies with a small smile.
Mrs. Goldstein beams at him and gives him a pat on the shoulder. Jacob is only nine years old, but his shoulder is nearly at the same height as Huggie Bubbe’s.
“Glad to hear that,” she says.
The sanctuary fills and the stack of programs thins, and Mrs. Goldstein stands quietly at the back of the room with a subtle, proud smile on her face while the service takes place.
Mrs. Goldstein became a part of the IHC community in 1989. The synagogue is the only Reform Jewish congregation in Indianapolis and has been around for over 150 years.
For three decades, Marcia has watched congregants come and go. She has seen her students grow up and have children of their own, who are now her students. She has written hundreds of lesson plans, led countless staff meetings and hugged nearly every child (and adult) to walk through the doors.
When the service ends, the staff launches into a whirlwind of activities. The entire building is being utilized – there is an extensive, 3-D timeline, a time capsule project, different craft stations and much more. And, as always, there is food. There are donuts this morning instead of the usual bagels and cream cheese.
The event lasts until 1:00 p.m. and a steady flow of families moves through the building. Mrs. Goldstein walks laps around the building, chatting with families and checking on her staff. Time passes so quickly that she forgets to stop for a breath. She is engrossed in the atmosphere. She loses herself in the strong sense of community and tradition. When 1:00 rolls around and the last of the families have walked out of the front doors, Mrs. Goldstein remains. The synagogue is a second home. Her husband, Marv, works as the computer specialist and a seventh grade teacher on Sundays. Today, he is the photographer.
“Mrs. G is always the first one here and the last one out,” said Laura Iosue, a first and sixth grade teacher. “She keeps this place running. One of the many reasons we love her.”
Even after the staff has left, Mrs. Goldstein returns to her brand new office. Another school year over. Finally, around 3:00 p.m., her white sedan pulls out of the parking lot.