I attended Shabbat morning services in my daughter’s modern Orthodox synagogue in Skokie, IL, two weeks ago to celebrate the naming (Shir Yona) of our new granddaughter.

As I sat in the sanctuary, I found myself reflecting on the many different Jewish communities I’ve encountered over the years:

I grew up in a Reform synagogue. During college, I attended Friday night Conservative services at Hillel and Shabbat morning services at a local Orthodox shtiebel. We spent a few years at Conservative synagogues and are now part of a modern Orthodox community. I’ve also attended Renewal and Reconstructionist services. I’ve prayed in Sephardic and Chabad shuls, and in Israel, I’ve enjoyed Italian, Yemenite, and Breslov shuls. While I have my preferences, I feel a fair amount of comfort in all of them — even when I stand out as the sole American, English-speaking, Ashkenazi, Orthodox, or non-Haredi in the room.

At a minimum, any two synagogues will have small, nuanced differences. Larger distinctions often stem from variations in nusach — the liturgy, order of service, melodies, and customs — and, of course, from denominational differences. Even liturgically identical modern Orthodox synagogues differ in subtle ways. For example, my daughter’s shul returns the Torah to the Ark along a different route through the congregation than my own.

While I’m fortunate to feel comfortable wherever I go, I recognize that this comfort comes from my background, education, and experience. When someone asks if I’m a Kohen, offers me an aliyah, or says yasher koach or gut Shabbos, I understand both their intentions and how to respond. Not everyone has that luxury. What for me is a beautiful experience of connecting to the global Jewish community can be stressful, confusing, or even alienating for others.

Locally, let’s continue working to ensure that everyone feels truly welcome and at home in our Jewish community.