In the Torah portion “Vayera” read in all synagogues in the fall, Abraham sees strangers approaching, goes out to meet them, and invites them to enter his tent. He treats them with hospitality, giving them the opportunity to rest. Sarah, his wife, prepares food for the visitors to enjoy and replenish themselves.

Just before we flew off to Paris this fall, I emailed the daughter of local friends who is a member of Parisian Congregation Kehilat Gesher. I explained that we were eager to attend a Friday evening service while visiting in Paris. By return e-mail, Jeanne F. responded, “Yes, come to services at 7 p.m. and stay for the pot luck dinner that follows.”

On Friday afternoon, Jeanne phoned our hotel room, assuring our welcome. The hotel concierge showed us a Metro station map and gave us instructions. At 6 p.m., we walked down two flights of steps into the bowels of the Metro and boarded the train. Transferring from one line to another, we made a mistake. But remembering the concierge’s advice, we trudged up and down several sets of stairs and were soon back on the right track.

We found the synagogue on a silent, dimly lit street. Only a building number marked its presence. No name or other identification was visible. Guards in the street protected the front door—a very disconcerting welcome. Then we remembered that our New Jersey temple, also for security reasons, often has a police presence. We rang the doorbell and were greeted warmly. Ushered to a plain, multi-purpose room with metal folding chairs, we joined about 75 other people and quickly found seats.

The simplicity of the room contrasted markedly with our larger, established Temple Emanuel at home. No Bima elevated the front of the room, but all the familiar synagogue elements were present. A Ner Tamid (Eternal Light) hung from the ceiling; an unassuming closet-like ark held one Torah; a dais stood for the rabbi’s use and Torah reading alongside a tall menorah. French and Israeli flags were displayed in the corner. The walls were brightened by children’s holiday artwork.

The service had just begun. How fascinating it was to pick up a prayer book written in French, English and Hebrew. Each person could read in whichever language(s) they knew. Though most of the traditional prayers and songs were in Hebrew or English, hearing some chanted in French was a very “foreign” experience. Rabbi Tom Cohen conducted a hearty, joyous, spiritual, congregant involved service. We had no problem being fully part of it.

After services we met Rabbi Tom (an American from Portland, Oregon). We learned that France has the third largest Jewish population in the world and that Kehilat Gesher is the only French-English speaking congregation in Paris. Approximately 160 families form the congregation. Members come from the U.S., Britain, Australia, Israel, Belgium, and other nations.

Rabbi Cohen introduced us to a pair of husband/wife rabbis visiting from Marlboro, New Jersey, who, we learned, knew our Rabbi Jerry David. Their congregation had donated a Torah to Kehilat Gesher when it was first established. The agreement between the two temples was that once Kehilat Gesher obtained a Torah of its own, the original was to be passed on to another start-up congregation. Eventually it went to Copenhagen. The two rabbis were on their way to visit that new temple.

In other conversations, we learned much about the French Jewish world—their comfort in Paris, their wishes and obstacles to building an interfaith communication with Christian and Muslim neighbors, their desires to serve the children and to build their community. Many of their goals are similar to ours in the U.S. Differences had to do with their location, the size and demographics of their membership. This was exactly what we had hoped to experience.

To cap the evening, the congregation’s women, as had Sarah in the Bible, invited us to join them for homemade refreshments. The food was very welcomed (we were hungry) and was delicious.

We thanked the rabbi, Jeanne and the other congregants for providing a wonderful highlight of our trip. We returned to the Metro, and contrary to our suspicions about safety at 10 p.m., found it filled with chatty students. We reached our hotel feeling very upbeat and happy. Almost immediately, the story of Abraham and the strangers popped into my head. It was an uncanny image. .

Judith Gensib, a travel lover, resides in Cherry Hill. She wrote this piece following a visit to Paris in November.