Wow, this was an interesting discussion. Some of you sounded scared of Jewish services, as if your attendance might turn you into the sacrificial goat.
I studied Hebrew at a local synagogue (Reform) when my doctoral committee told me I should have a non-IndoEuropean language. Learning Hebrew was a great experience. My teacher was a German refugee who escaped Hitler but whose father died at Auschwitz. I attended several services at the Reform synagogue and later at the Orthodox shul where the rabbi was Hasidic and, I should add, one of the wisest men I've ever met. I went to several of his classes and enjoyed them immensely. He was always ready to talk Torah with anyone but he held tightly to Hasidic custom; he never shook hands with me. Nor did I expect him to.
Some years ago I had a Korean student who planned to attend an American divinity university. He also had studied Hebrew and we compared our pronunciation. I asked him if he'd ever been to a Jewish service. He hadn't, there being a scarcity of Jews in Korea. So I and my husband took him to the Orthodox shul.
My husband is, by Jewish law of descent, Jewish; however, he knows no Hebrew and has no idea what's going on in a service. I sat in the balcony with the other women while Hubby and Student sat downstairs with the men. They were constantly confusing the books (the prayer book, or Siddur, and the printed Hebrew/English Torah). I tried to help by holding up the correct book. They remained lost.
We'd been praying an hour or so when children appeared, passing out candy. I knew what was going to happen, but the guys downstairs were clueless and I was too far away to help them. A member of the congregation had a new baby, and he was called to read Torah. After he read his verses, the entire synagogue erupted into celebration. The new father's family was originally from Iran, and his female relatives leaned over the balcony going "La-Ya-La"--that funny sound with their tongue. At the same time, everyone was pelting the new father with candy (sweetness), expressing joy in the new baby. Two of the rabbis and the new father began dancing around the bimah (the stand where the Torah is read). It was the neatest celebration I've ever seen. My Korean student had a dazed expression that was priceless. My husband wasn't much better. I loved it.
I've also attended several of the mosques in my city at the invitation of my Moslem students. I found kind, courteous people who answered my questions and served delicious Kurdish food. I stayed for the prayer service. While my Arabic is extremely limited, hearing the Azhan (call to prayer) echoing through the big room was awesome. The Iman gave his weekly talk in English, the only common language among his United Nations congregation, and again I knew I'd found a wise, learned man. I particularly loved a story he related from the life of the prophet Mohammed. Mohammed had been asked about the status of animals and he answered with this story. A dog, almost dead with thirst, tried in vain to get water from a well. A man passed by, saw the animal's condition, and drew up water for it to drink. For this act of mercy Allah forgave his sins. I believe this impressed me because in Southern Baptist Sunday School I was told that animals don't have souls and don't go to heaven.
How can I possibly leave out the Tibetan monks who visit my city every few years? I never miss them. Again, I'm always struck with their astounding wisdom. Of course they love animals, which they believe do indeed have souls. I took my Lhasa apso, a Tibetan breed, to meet them and they were delighted to play with her. My Lhasa ran straight to them as if she knew them. Tibetans believe that monks who have not attained enlightenment are reincarnated as Lhasa apsos.
Someone asked the poster if he would attend a Wiccan ceremony. I certainly hope the answer is yes. Wiccans primarily celebrate the connection between humanity and nature, and their ceremonies relate human life with the cycles of the earth. One song especially stayed with me; the chorus went "We are a circle within a circle, with no beginning and never ending." Then everyone danced around a maypole to celebrate the coming of spring and new life to the earth. It was another great experience.
At some point in the spiritual journey each of us has to decide whether to narrow down or open up. I decided to open and I believe I'm a wiser person for the experiences I've had in different religious traditions. My presence at these services wasn't a declaration of my belief in them; it was a declaration of my desire to learn. This earth has housed a lot of wise people, and I want to learn from all of them.
So perhaps it's not surprising that my favorite spiritual book is St. Therese of Lisieux's "Story of a Soul". I've read it so often I've memorized some parts. On the centennial of St. Therese's death (1997), she was elevated to the status of a Doctor of the Catholic Church, one of only three women so honored. (I suspect St. Edith Stein may join her someday.)
Okay, were you really harmed by being at a ceremony that honored the Torah? I doubt it. Maypoles are harmless, too, and St. Therese said that the most important thing we do is to love.
Could I interest you in stretching?