Rabbis? Oh, we know rabbis. We have lots of friends who are rabbis. We’ve literally been handed binders full of rabbis who are on call year-round for any of our major life events, including weddings, ritual circumcisions*, Bar Mitzvahs, sukkah construction, and annual atonement, to name a few. So when the High Holidays snuck up on us again this year, we called in a favor from one of our favorite Jewish clergymen. We don’t want to name names to protect his identity as a black market High Holiday ticket dealer, but a big TODAH RABAH to our bearded, biking, biblical benefactor.
This year, we attended a mélange of services (beggars can’t be choosers, y’all), starting with Temple Isaiah’s Erev Rosh Hashanah service at UCLA’s Royce Hall. We kicked off the holiday season right by indulging in what college towns do best: pizza. While it wasn’t necessarily a traditional holiday meal, our margherita pie got more Instagram likes in five minutes than our blog has ever gotten in its entire history, making us wonder if we’re writing the wrong kind of blog. Unfortunately, we were enjoying dinner so much that we underestimated how long it would take us to find Royce Hall; we didn’t realize that UCLA has more parking structures than graduate programs. When we finally settled on one (parking structure, not graduate program), the space was so expensive that we practically had to fill out the FAFSA in order to afford it.
After a twenty-minute hike across campus and intense nostalgia for our college years, we arrived at Royce Hall, UCLA’s performing arts venue. Due to our tardiness, we got stuck in the nosebleed section like a couple of Rosh Hashanah rejects. We were so far from the action that we quickly turned to surveying the crowd and making our own mental recommendations for who should be inscribed in the Book of Life for another year. Texting teenagers? Fine, give them a few more years to straighten out. Loud old people behind us who were not even trying to whisper? Sure, they only have a couple more years anyway. Bustier-wearing shiksa in front of us who was romantically stroking her Jewish sugar daddy’s back throughout the service? Girlfriend, better shape up if you’re going to marry into this tribe. Cover those shoulders, biatch… and thus, we revived the infamous insta-repent.
Because our surroundings were so rich with opportunities for amateur sociological research, we missed pretty much the entire content of the service. We snapped out of our judge-y state when the rabbis began the most riveting part of the evening: the lengthy announcement regarding tashlich.** Apparently in recent years, swimming, surfing, and paddleboarding have become increasingly challenging up and down the West Coast as overzealous atoners have cleared the shelves of local grocery stores and heaved entire loaves of Wonder Bread into the Pacific. The rabbis gently and diplomatically reminded everyone that the size of one’s bread product does not need to be directly proportional to the severity of one’s sins. Good thing for us, because we would have had to buy out the nearest bakery for just our sins in the last hour.
We spent the rest of the holiday season getting schmancy at Temple Emanu El of Beverly Hills. Yes, friends, we rang in 5773 in the 90210. Eager to get back into our judgmental groove, on the ride over we mentally prepared ourselves for Chanel suits, stilettos, and a lot of nips and tucks, if you know what we’re saying. While we weren’t off base with those expectations, we were pleasantly surprised by the warmth of the ‘gogue-goers. And the hotness of the men—Jewish Jason Priestleys, every one of them. This made it easier for Jessica to achieve her personal best of staying awake for a whopping 50% of services attended this HH season. Along with the theme of yearly self-improvement, Lauren fasted for a total of 2.5 hours (if you don’t count her morning latte). With Lauren’s emergency granola bar uneaten and Jessica only needing to be nudged with a prayerbook a handful of times this year, these bloggers have come a long way since 5772.
**For our non-Jewish readers, tashlich is where we throw bread crumbs representing our sins into a body of water. Pretty much the exact opposite of communion.
Chai-lights:
1) Free tix
2) Jason Priestley lookalikes
3) The efficiency and timelessness of the insta-repent
Kvetches:
1) Debt-inducing parking space at UCLA
2) Old Country temperatures in the sanctuary
3) Our judgmental tendencies lead to overindulgence in the insta-repent—but we have a whole year to improve!
Total Pizzas: 1 (the caloric equivalent of 4.5 bagels)
No comments:
Post a Comment