magnifying reading lamp that hangs on
a swiveling post over the bima.
Often it takes some waiting for a
minyan to gather, with the clergy and rit-
ual committee members peering anxious-
ly around the room, silently counting.
But by the time the thick, rust-col-
ored curtains of the Ark are opened to
take out the sefer Torah, about 15 peo-
ple, mostly men older than 40, have
gathered. Some sit alone, following the
Hebrew of the worn 1960s prayer book;
others quietly chat about health prob-
lems or inquire about family members.
Ritual committee member Dr. Bruce
Friedman, who delivers a
short Torah commentary
before each aliya, has to coax
shy congregants a little to get
them up to the bima, but he
leaves the truly shy alone. The
congregation is fully egalitari-
an, with women counting in
the minyan and invited to
read Torah.
This is a place where a vis-
itor is not only greeted
warmly, but offered an aliya;
where congregants in thread-
bare clothes from Goodwill
sit side-by-side with mem-
bers in tailored suits; where
Wayne State professors and
unemployed cab drivers share
Henny Youngman jokes, and
where the radiator's clanking
is drowned out by the raspy
but tenacious voice of the
cantor.
For many, this is family.
And holding the family
together is Rabbi Gamze. A
small-framed, unassuming
man with a chirpy voice,
Gamze has a reverence for
Jewish tradition, and a gentle
sense of humor. He's particu-
larly partial to wordplays; his
"pun-ishment," he says. So
immersed is he in Yiddishkeit
that even his cats have Jewish
names as well as English ones
— Sammy is Shlomo and
Susie is Sarah Ruchel.
His laid-back demeanor makes him
an approachable presence to Jews who
are less observant or are shy about par-
ticipating in services.
"Whether you're asking people to
come to services or offering help,
being pushy can have a negative
effect," says Gamze.
The rabbi is comfortable with peo-
ple of all races and estimates he has
helped about 100 people, many of
them black, convert to Judaism in his
years at the synagogue.

"Rabbi Gamze accepted me like I
was his son, and he assured me I was
amongst friends from the first day," said
25-year-old Shalomah "Williams, the syn-
agogue's youngest board member. "He
makes everyone feel at home and never
has anything bad to say about anyone."
Williams, a black Jew, followed his
mother, Karen Dooley, to the
Downtown Synagogue when he
returned to Detroit after years of service
in the United States Navy. Williams' par-
ents converted to Judaism before he was
born and they attended Congregation
B'nai Moshe on and off until it moved

By contrast, Williams said, at the
Downtown Synagogue he found a rich
diversity and, like everyone else, the
rabbi's warm welcome.

Loop. But because the congregation
was Orthodox and Gamze is
Conservative, it was a somewhat awk-
ward arrangement, leading the young
rabbi to seek employment elsewhere.
Teacher And Friend
Four years after taking the helm at
Because the congregation has little
the Downtown Synagogue, Gamze
administrative support, Gamze does a
moved with his wife to south Oak
lot of the synagogue's paperwork from
Park, where they still live. He drives
his large wooden desk, a hand-me-down
into Detroit almost every day.
from the building's former owner, the
Another member, Louis Nino, said
Fintex clothing company. A typical day
Gamze has been both a teacher and a
for the rabbi includes mailing out
friend, and the synagogue has become a
yahrtzeit notices, dealing with building
second home. Nino, who converted to
crises (like leaking pipes), answering
Judaism under Gamze's tutelage, literal-
ly lived in the synagogue a few
years ago, sleeping on the
couch in Gamze's office for
two weeks after his divorce.
Now Nino owns a house
near Wayne State, and
because he got a job driving
and maintaining the city's
trolley on nearby Washington
Boulevard ("It was beshert,"
he says of the location), he is
at the synagogue every day.
He fixes pipes and does other
maintenance work, tasks he
enjoys because helping out is
a "mitzvah."
Half Mexican, half Italian
and a self-described "Sammy
Davis Jr. Jew," Nino found
Judaism when he was in basic
training in the United States
Army and wanted to make a
phone call.
"We were very confined
there, so I pretended I was
Jewish and sneaked out with
them when they went to their
service," he recalls. "Then one
thing led to another. I got
involved in religious study
groups in the Army barracks,
and I came to discover this
was the Cadillac of religions."
Nino has visited suburban
congregations, but compares
— Rabbi Noah Gamze
their services to "a Broadway
show." He prefers his syna-
gogue's no-frills, multicultur-
al, participatory atmosphere.
phone calls from congregants and
Keeping Costs Low
strangers (once someone called and
Financial accessibility has always been
earnestly asked him at which florist they
central to the Downtown Synagogue,
might be able to purchase a Chanukah
even when more of its members were
bush) and visiting people in the hospital.
affluent. Brothers Nathan and Charles
Born in Lithuania and the son of a
Agree founded the shul in the 1920s
rabbi, Gamze immigrated to the
to provide a congregation for all Jews,
United States in 1929. He grew up in
regardless of their ability to pay. In the
Chicago. After receiving his ordination
early years, the synagogue charged no
from the Jewish Theological Seminary
membership dues and relied simply on
in 1951, he worked for years at anoth-
donations from patrons.
er downtown shul: his father's
Orthodox congregation in Chicago's
SHUL IN THE CITY on page 10

"Once they
build the
ballparks and
casinos, it will
bring more
Jewish people
back ...
I just hope it
happens while
I'm still young
enough to
„
enjoy it.

from Oak Park to West Bloomfield.
Being both black and Jewish has
been difficult at times: in synagogues
and Judaica stores, Williams often
attracts "astonished' stares or encoun-
ters people who are surprised he knows
anything about Judaism. And as a high
school student at Detroit's Cass Tech,
he clashed with a teacher when he said
he'd rather memorize a Shabbat song
than the "Black National Anthem" (also
known as "Lift Every Voice and Sing")
that had been assigned to the pupils.

4/2
1999

Detroit Jewish News

7

