You may remember Stephen S. Wise from our High Holiday Special Edition Post last fall. To refresh your memory, that was the post in which we froze, slept, and ate in the back row of Ronald Reagan’s Presbyterian Church. To get a more representative perspective of the synagogue, we recently braved post-work traffic on the 405 to daven at Stephen S. Wise’s Brentwood location. Despite our good intentions, a series of unfortunate events ensued.
To start off, the freeway exit was closed for construction, forcing us to drive approximately 17 miles out of our way. When we finally exited, we found ourselves offroading it through concrete rubble, cranes, and ominous lighting. Shabbat Shalom from the Chernobyl Diaries.
Next, relying on our mere iPhones for guidance, we became hopelessly lost in the dark hills of Brentwood. Irritated and slightly carsick, we were about to jump ship to go drink when we finally saw the pearly gates of the Stephen S. Wise campus, guarded by a heavyset Salvadoran woman wielding a plastic badge. Word to the “Wise” (pun intended): get your ass on Google Maps if you want anyone under 72 to find you.
At that point, we thought we had this Shabbas in the bag, arriving only ten minutes after the scheduled service was supposed to start. A note to our readers: after parking, leave extra time to find the correct chapel. On the way to our service, we barged into a 5th grade Shabbat dinner, a bridal primping room, someone’s Bar Mitzvah, a circumcision, and a ritual lamb slaughter.* In short, plan on befriending that Salvadoran security guard if you ever want to make it to the service of your choice.
When we walked in fashionably (45 minutes) late, we tried to slip unnoticed into a pew in the back. While we can’t speak to the portion of the service that we missed, the final eight minutes were mellow and traditional, and we recovered from our arduous car trip by zoning out to the handsome cantor’s smooth and sultry Hebrew jams. Note to the single ladies: don’t drive all the way out just for him; at the oneg, his Bubbe made sure to repeatedly name-drop his live-in lady in our presence.
What you should drive out for is the bomb-ass oneg. Jessica can sniff out free coffee from three miles away, and our back pew location gave us strategic access to the post-service snacks. As we shoveled butterly delicious black-and-white cookies into our mouths, a steady stream of congregants chatted us up. In between bites, we tried to respond. Mostly we just nodded our heads silently as 50% of the congregation (approximately four people, rabbi included) apologized for the “boring” service and suggested we come next week for the younger, sexier, sweatier musical service. Been there, done that. Given that we were still in recovery from the kosher sausage-fest that was Friday Night Live, we appreciated the chill pace, older crowd, and lack of eligible bachelors at this quieter ‘gogue.
*At least one of these statements is a lie.
Chai-lights:
1) The black-and-whites (and we are not talking about racial diversity)
2) Cool rabbi--we know you like our blog, Rabbi Stern, and we like you, too!
3) Less pressure to mate than our last service
Kvetches:
1) We still hate you, 405
2) Logistical difficulties ruining our reputation for punctuality
3) Lack of doggie bags for the oneg cookies
Total Bagels: 3.5
