Er ... excuse me, you sure you're in the right place?

Last Friday, I almost gatecrashed a Sabbath service at a synagogue at Waterloo Street!

You see, I had actually taken a back alley short cut from Bencoolen Street and I was approaching what I thought was the Catholic church of Saints Peter and Paul along Waterloo Street for a pre-Christmas penitential service, when a short, bearded, dark complexioned man in a skull-cap stopped me from entering the gate leading to what I thought was the church's compound.

Of course, I was puzzled and immediately taken aback that a person whom I thought was a church warden was preventing me from entering a church! So with much indignation and confusion in my voice, I declared to the man, "But I'm Catholic! Why can't I come in?" To which the man retorted with an obvious tremble of puzzlement and possibly fear in his voice, "What does it matter to me if you are Catholic? You can't come in here without permission!" (or words to that effect!). Still confused and obviously not satisfied by this skull-capped sentry's reason for refusing me entry, I questioned the man again with a slight hint of irritation and frustration in my voice, "But isn't there a penitential service going on here, tonight?" To which the man replied with a somewhat curt and agitated "No!" and began to mumble something that was inaudible to me.

It was then that I took a better look at the building in front of me that I thought was a church and noticed that there were symbols of the Star of David engraved in the high walls of the building! Only then did it dawn on me that I was in fact standing in front of a synagogue, and there was a Sabbath service going on in there and Gentiles like myself were prohibited from entering the compound for fear of defiling the local Jewish congregation's place of worship! Being somewhat familiar with Jewish customs, the skull cap the bearded sentry was wearing should have immediately tipped me off to this fact the first time I saw the man, but for some reason, my normally acute powers of observation failed me that Friday night! Then, in the gradual lightening of my mental fog, I glanced across the street, and sure enough, there stood the Church of Sts. Peter and Paul in all its Gothic glory!

By now turning an brighter shade of pink, I turned back to my somewhat formidable interceptor and apologisedly profusely to him, "Oh, I'm very sorry! I thought that this was a church! I'm terribly sorry!" To which, the steadfast gatekeeper brusquely replied, "Well, yes, of course! You should be! This is a very sensitive thing, you know!" (or words to such effect). This honourable and admirable Jewish sentryman probably presumed that I already knew that I was approaching a synagogue and that I had wanted to enter it regardless of whether I was prohibited from doing so or not! It probably didn't occur to him at the time, that when this Gentile -- namely, yours truly -- insisted on entering the compound that I didn't realize that I was trying to enter a synagogue -- and during the first few hours of the Sabbath even, of all days! Goodness, gracious! I can imagine how startled and indignant he must been to see this clueless Gentile trying to enter his synagogue! Oh, when I finally realized the magnitude of my embarrassing mistake, I felt like jumping down the nearest manhole in shame!

But, since I had not much time then to go searching for a suitably stinking open sewer in the vicinity that night, I just decided to put this face-losing episode behind me quickly and immediately dash across the street to the church to perform a more conventional act of penitence for my sins!