I bet you’ve wondered where we’ve been. So have we. In all this connecting to our ancient roots, we found ourselves wandering through the desert since last November. Let’s just say Alotta Shabatta has been Alotta Nada in the last five months. Sorry, readers. To make up for lost time, we decided to go big this Shabbat. Get ready to RAWK!
Friday. Night. Live. Bitches.
After months of living on nothing but matzah in the desert, we stumbled upon a schmantzy stretch of Wilshire Boulevard. In a pre-makeover Pretty Woman moment, these East Side-istas gazed up at LA’s own shimmering, behemoth of a Mount Sinai replica, Sinai Temple. In case you don’t know, once a month Sinai Temple hosts the infamous Friday Night Live, a raucous Shabbat service that’s kind of like Jesus Camp for hip, single Jews.
Amongst a sea of BMWs, we arrived in our Shabbas chariot, Lauren’s dented 2002 Prius. Sensing that we were strangers in a strange land, five security guards kindly asked us to pop the trunk before entering the expansive, multi-storied parking garage. Spotting a mere twelve yoga mats in our trunk, we were reduced to Code Yellow and granted access. Cha-ching! Let the mayhem begin.
We immediately noted the demographic differences between this ‘gogue and the rest. For once, the twenty to forty age range was well-repped, and these peeps were dressed to impress. Unaccustomed to the cultural norms of West Side natives, we showed up in East Side formal attire (ironic cowboy boots and denim). We just couldn’t compete with the Shahs of Sunset.
The sanctuary was poppin’ when we walked in. The service was led by a famous Celebrabbi, a charismatic camp counselor cum song leader, and an eclectic Israeli rock band. There was also a token crowd fluffer wandering between pews and clapping vigorously. We tried to avoid eye contact. With all of the clapping, dancing, and jamming happening, you’d never guess that the entire crowd of 300+ was on Day 8 of the annual Passover Atkins diet.
With a captive audience of young writhing bodies, Sinai’s Celebrabbi took advantage of the opportunity to deliver a sermon about meeting romantic potentials at Friday night services. Hott. We started to speculate that this whole shebang may have been sponsored by JDate. Following the sermon, we were ushered into the special “Young Adults” oneg (#MakeJewishBabies) complete with an endless supply of wine and kosher-for-Passover cake (#ImminentConstipation). Once we made it through the El Al-trained security at the door (not an easy feat), the meat market that ensued was a shellshock to these innocent vegetarian Jewesses. Skirts seemed to be hiked higher, yarmulkes were checked at the door, and men exaggerated their employment statuses to woo marriage-minded Jewish vixens on the prowl. It seemed that everybody but us was looking for a hot piece of Shabbas ass.
Given the revelry of the night, we were a little grumpy to find out that this place is pretty rigid about Shabbas decorum. For people who typically follow the straight and narrow, we were surprised to find ourselves repeatedly breaking the rules and getting in trouble. To be fair, there are a lot of rules at Sinai Temple. For your convenience, we’ve listed the rules that we broke below.
RULES OF SINAI TEMPLE
1. Don’t talk about Sinai Temple
2. No cell phones
3. No returning to your seat post-bathroom break when Rabbi Goforthandmultiply is speaking (there was straight up crowd control and we almost got pepper sprayed)
4. If you want to attend the young adults’ oneg, you’d better be between 21 and 39 and have the valid state-issued identification card to prove it
Chai-lights:
1. Cheap live music if you can’t afford Hollywood Bowl tickets
2. Ample multi-level parking
3. Free non-Manischewitz wine at the oneg = bloggers be buzzed
Kvetches:
1. Rules, rules, rules.
2. The occasional Jesus Camp vibe freaked out these Southern Jews
3. Passover-induced constipation
Total Bagels:
Bagels aren’t kosher for Passover, people. This ‘gogue gets two boxes of matzah.
