The congregation I usually attend these days is the local Chabad. (That's pronounced with a guttural "ch", like in "Chanukkah".) It's close to where I used to live, at Shadowdale in southwestern Portland, and now that I'm no longer snowed in I'm trying to make it a regular thing.
Sometimes the rabbis ask me to lead the prayers. (I've been reading Hebrew for - eep! - 40 years now, so my command of the language is fairly decent.) Last Sunday I was tapped to lead, and this week I got a break; it's fine either way, I enjoy leading but I also enjoy just sitting in the back and letting somebody else take it.
Last Sunday was right after the clock change, and there were just a few of us there waiting for the rabbis.
"The Rabbis are late," I observed.
"Maybe they forgot to set their clocks ahead," said Shmuel.
"The Rabbis are living in the past," I said. "'Three thousand years of beautiful tradition, from Moses to Sandy Koufax ...'" JT, who's also a convert, of course got the reference and laughed and gave me a high-five.
We were shy of a minyan for the service, but we must have gotten a 10th man at the very last minute because Rabbi M. had me read the Kaddish d'Rabbanan. After services he said a few words regarding "Ana beKoach". "It's the secret to life, the universe, and everything," I chimed in, but I don't think anybody got that reference.
Anyway, that was last Sunday. This Sunday I just took it easy and hung out in back while the Rabbi led the service.