Jewish Outreach at Sea: An Unconventional High Holy Day Journey

Twelve years ago, about ten days before Rosh Hashanah, I received a seemingly random email seeking someone to serve as a rabbi on a week-long cruise to Alaska. That year I had not yet secured a High Holy Day pulpit, and somehow, this seemed like an adventure worth exploring. In short order, my husband Reb Simcha Raphael (Renewal ordained) and I (a Reconstructionist rabbi) began making plans to travel. Thus we found ourselves leading Rosh Hashanah prayers on a cruise ship in Alaska. 

I did not realize at the time that serving as a cruise rabbi would become part of my rabbinic career, on and off, over the following decade. Rabbis are placed by a company that hires entertainment acts for cruise ships—with placements made for the High Holy Days, Hanukah, and Passover. Over the years, Simcha and I have led services or Seders on Alaskan, Caribbean, and more recently European cruises— about eight in total, and two this past year alone. 

My overt reasons for going on these cruises were to see the world, to have a good time, and to be of service. However, I know sometimes G!d acts in invisible, “covert” ways with some task I am called to fulfill or some unanticipated experience that I need, and some I could have never imagined. Teaching about Jonah while whales were breaching in the Alaska waters, or volunteering to lead an Easter Sunday service because the cruise priest failed a COVID test and could not get on the ship, were some of the more memorable moments. We met Jews and non-Jews from five continents, with amazing synchronistic moments, like the Passover seder when we spoke with a couple that turned out to be my neighbor’s parents and another couple who lived in the same condo community as my mother.

This Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur we traveled through the Aegean, Mediterranean, and Marmara Seas between Greece and Turkey. Usually, an email is sent out six to nine months in advance with openings for available cruises. There were two ten-day cruises to Greece and Turkey for October 2024. I thought I would take just one, but this cruise preferred to have one rabbi for both Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Two back-to-back identical ten-day cruises: Athens to Istanbul and back to Athens, twice! We signed up for twenty days at sea. 

Five days before departure, we discovered there were no mahzorim on board the ship, only copies of an Orthodox siddur originally published over fifty years ago. We were told we would have one hour for Rosh Hashanah and one hour for Yom Kippur. We scrambled to assemble a Mahzor with Yamim Noraim highlights and packed a small shofar and our talitot. A rabbinic lesson we had learned from our teacher, Reb Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, is that when you go into the world to reach and teach the Jews, meet them where and how they are. We were as prepared as we could be. 

Cruise #1 – Rosh Hashanah

The first ten-day cruise included a Rosh Hashanah service following the second day in port, during which passengers spent the day touring and returned to the ship late afternoon or early evening. It is certainly challenging to communicate the essence of Rosh Hashanah in one hour, but we hoped that the Shema, Avinu Malkeynu, Shofar, Kaddish, and Kiddush, followed by challah, wine, and apples, and honey, were enough to transmit a sense of the mystique and power of Rosh Hashanah in an abridged version. Sometimes, less liturgy and more interpersonal conversations work to build a small community. 

We had about twenty folks from around the world: Argentina; London; Americans from New Jersey, Montana, Oregon, and Texas; one young American woman who had made aliyah to Israel; and one woman from Venezuela who worked on the cruise and was Catholic but drawn to Judaism. After services, a tall, African-American man came over to say hello. It turned out he was a pastor with a church in Florida and had played NBA basketball, and then lived in Israel for four years and played for an Israeli basketball team!

It’s quite magical to pull all these people together in such a setting to celebrate the Jewish New Year, even if only for a short service. We could feel the connection between everyone as we united in our prayers for peace for Israel and the Jewish people, especially in the shadow of the anniversary of October 7th. The community we began to form that night continued with a symbolic tashlich service two nights later (we could not throw anything overboard the ship) and an Erev Shabbat service, where we were joined by people who introduced themself as “Sabbath Day worshippers” – i.e. Seventh-day Adventists.

Oddly enough, while on previous cruises we often had Israelis attend services or seders, but this year, aside from that one young American who had made aliyah, there were no other Israelis present. Although one could hear languages from all around the world on the ship—this cruise was truly a global gathering of people—at no point was there an Israeli accent or Hebrew to be heard. It is hard to say if Israelis were reticent to travel to Turkey given current political realities, or if they wanted to stay close to family the week of October 7th. Either way, it was noticeably different from every other cruise we had been on. However, when we stopped in Turkey we had a chance to visit a Jewish museum and a few synagogues, and found the Turkish people warm and friendly.

Cruise #2 – Yom Kippur

I knew Yom Kippur was going to be a challenge because Kol Nidre fell on the first night of the second cruise, barely an hour after setting sail. People usually spend the first afternoon on board getting their luggage, unpacking, and settling in. Even though Yom Kippur service had been listed on the activity itinerary, I suspected we weren’t going to have much attendance. The reality is, when doing this kind of rabbinic work, it is quite impossible to know what to expect. One year we had over 70 people at a Passover Seder; another year, five.

Lighting candles, welcoming Shabbat, Kol Nidre, and a few other yontif prayers covered all the bases for that first night. But I also realized some folks would miss Kol Nidre because they would be disoriented on the first day of the cruise; jetlagged; or might not have read the activity itinerary on their app and in their room. So I requested the cruise director allow me to do a second Yom Kippur service Saturday night, knowing it would also serve my personal needs to have some sort of Neilah service and end with a Tekiah Gedola.

We set up a second gathering for the end of Shabbat after a port day in Mykonos—little more than a minyan of people attended, similar to the previous evening. Again, they came from all over the globe: England, Venezuela, a family from Mexico with two younger children, one of whom was close to his Bar Mitzvah, and Americans from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, California, and New York. Sure enough, they had not read the daily activity sheet and missed Kol Nidre. I planned a Kol Nidre reprise enhanced by some teachings on Jonah, how he was swallowed by the whale and “cruised” for three days in the underworld as an initiation. I also asked them to think about their ancestors who had influenced them such that they would choose to attend a Yom Kippur service while on a cruise. Next, Simcha led a meaningful Yizkor service, inviting people to reflect on their ancestors and share the names of lost loved ones. More than any formal liturgy, remembering those we’ve lost always works to connect people with the tradition and with each other. 

At some point, I was explaining the power of Kol Nidre as an ancient Aramaic incantation formula, said to be used by the Marranos of Spain to annul their vows. I mentioned that today, through DNA testing, many Conversos in Latin American countries were discovering their Jewish roots connected back to Spain. The young woman from Venezuela, a member of the crew on the ship who had been with us over Rosh Hashanah, raised her hand and said: “This is my story!” Raised Catholic, she never felt connected with it, and always felt Jewish. Recently, she had done DNA testing and discovered her Sephardic Jewish ancestry. That was certainly a jaw-dropping moment for everyone in the room. 

Toward the end of the service, I asked if there were any other special requests for songs, anything else that needed to be sung. A man in the front row raised his hand and said: “Can you sing Dayenu?” Somewhat taken aback by this unusual request to close out Yom Kippur, I asked where he was from. It turns out he was a pastor from Ft. Collins, Colorado, and loved Dayenu, which he knew from attending Seders. I first blew a Tekiah Gedola and since the upcoming full moon of Sukkot was in Aries, I linked the Aries ram back to Passover and we sang Dayenu, then ended with HaTikvah.

It was not quite a Yom Kippur like the one observed in my family’s synagogue back in Tennessee, or the Orthodox synagogue Simcha had experienced in Montreal. But it was definitely an honorable way to offer wayward Jews (and non-Jews) a meaningful Jewish connection before they went on their way back into the adventures and festive buffets of cruise life. 

Cruise #2 – Sukkot Under the Full Moon

Following two stimulating in-port days exploring Istanbul, Sukkot arrived. The draw of a clear sky on the boat deck was too irresistible to miss honoring the Sukkot Full Moon. I requested of the activities director to do a Sukkot program, this one on the lawn deck under the awning atop the boat. We scheduled a Sukkot gathering at 10:30 PM. Four people showed up, all of whom had been to my services before: one woman whose father had died was saying kaddish; the young woman from Venezuela who had been seeking a Jewish path since discovering her Jewish DNA; and two business partners, Howard and Joe, celebrating Howard’s 70th birthday. 

Howard was one of the people who had missed Kol Nidrei the first night. As the conversation ensued about Sukkot, we meandered through the traditions and sang some songs. I discussed Hebrew names and asked Howard if he had a Hebrew name. He didn’t remember. I asked him who he was named after, and he said he wanted to give a new name some thought. Similarly, Osi, the woman from Venezuela, said she would think about a Hebrew name. We concluded our Sukkot program, and I went to bed. I assumed I would most likely never see these people again, even though they promised to stay in touch.

On the final Shabbat, Osi showed up once more. She said she wanted to take the name Ozi Malka. At candle lighting, we gave her a Shabbat blessing with her new name. 

Twenty days at sea was a long time and we were looking forward to getting home, having done seven different services on two cruises.

And the Mystery Unfolds

A few days after the cruise ended, I got an email from Joe asking if I was the Rabbi Rayzel Raphael from the ship. He told me Howard had been hit by a car and died. Would I be available to do the funeral? Flabbergasted and shocked, of course I said yes. In preparation for the funeral, I asked his family for his Hebrew name and they also didn’t know. However, they said he was named after his grandfather Chayim. 

During the funeral, as I comforted the family and friends saying: “Although we may not understand, Howard’s soul had completed his time. He ended it at 70 – a full life according to Jewish tradition; he had an amazing last week on the cruise and he heard that last Kol Nidre.” In the middle of speaking, I looked down at the funeral brochure and saw his name was Howard Michael, so his Hebrew name would have also been Mi’cha-el – therefore his name Chayim Mi’cha-el.

This experience brings home my sense of the “covert” mission of a rabbi — in this case, being deployed to help Ozi Malka from Venezuela land in her Jewish life, and to help escort Howard’s soul to the world beyond while solving the puzzle of his name. I am humbled in the face of the mystery of it all. 

Being a cruise rabbi might not be for everyone, but for both of us it is a chance to live our Jewish values of bringing God’s light into the world.