Kol Ami: All the Makings of a Broadway Jewsical

Ever since we were little girls, we have fantasized about gracing the stage of a Broadway musical.  We starred in many a basement production as scrappy red-headed orphans, umbrella-wielding magical nannies, and AIDS-inflicted New York bohemians. Let’s just say that our iPod shuffle is never appropriate for sexy time, unless you’re really, really into Glee.  

Since we still haven’t been discovered, we recognize that our Broadway ship may have sailed.  With laughter, tears, dramatic belting, and a loveable cast of characters, our night at Congregation Kol Ami might be the closest we’ll ever get to starring in our own Jewsical.   

Cast

Jessica & Lauren - Bedraggled bloggers, shaking off rain and desperate for free coffee
Congregants - Mostly gay men, milling about and kibitzing
Old Lady - Here to celebrate her 90th birthday, accompanied by her adult son
Adult Son - See above
Cristina - Canadian convert, recent transplant to LA, and our new bestie; the first Alotta Shabbata friendship to persist beyond the synagogue walls
Cantor - With the grin of the Cheshire Cat and the voice of a Semitic Pavarotti, he was the fiddler to our roof

Setting

America’s gayest city, West Hollywood*

Scene One

Old Lady is called to the bimah for a dramatic birthday blessing, escorted by Adult Son.  Cantor launches into sweet (and lengthy) shpiel about how wonderful Old Lady is.  Cue Lauren to steal the scene from Old Lady by bawling loudly.  Cue Jessica to laugh uncontrollably, further drawing attention away from Old Lady.  Congregants shake their heads disapprovingly and mutter phrases such as “Bitch, please” and the like.

Scene Two

Cantor belts operatically, jumping between Hebrew and English. The small sanctuary vibrates with surround sound effects, and Lauren and Jessica find their heads bobbing along with the rest of the Congregants. The sheer volume of the Cantor’s vibrato eclipses all other sounds, allowing Lauren and Jessica to confidently croon any tune their hearts desire with no fear of being heard by Congregants. Cantor makes post-service announcement re: the temple’s upcoming Les Miserables-themed Purim shpiel. Lauren and Jessica, clearly operating under a musical-induced high, debate paying membership fees so they can co-star as Fantine and Cosette.

Scene Three

Oneg begins. Lauren and Jessica enter stage left, immediately zero in on the rugelach, and congratulate Old Lady on her birthday.  Old Lady proceeds to give sage and harrowing life advice to Lauren and Jessica (technically unsolicited), including gems such as “Always wear sunscreen,” and “Don’t tell people your problems, because no one wants to hear them.”  Lauren and Jessica exchange quizzical glances and then continue to rapidly ingest free pastries.  Cristina enters stage right, makes small talk over challah, and quickly proves that she’s younger, cooler, and better dressed than Lauren and Jessica. In an effort not to mess up their first potential ‘gogue friendship, Lauren and Jessica make eye contact and silently decide never to tell Cristina any of their problems.

Finale

Lauren and Jessica stand in the corner, clutching cups of free coffee and ruminating over the events of the night: Drama. Song. Broadway. Laughter. Tears. Delightful little pastries. In a moment of clarity, and yet great confusion, Lauren and Jessica wonder aloud in unison, “Are we gay men inside?”

The End

* Technically speaking, WeHo is America’s sixth gayest city.  

Chai-lights:

1) Pre-service coffee, a rare and beautiful thing
2) Accessible to East- and Westside members of the tribe
3) For chatty Jews, the cantor’s volume allows for full conversations to take place unnoticed during the service

Kvetches:

1) Not the place to go to meet a straight dude. Then again, what ‘gogue is?
2) Questionable life advice.
3) Les Mis announcement was a tease: we want it, and we want it NOW.

Total Bagels: 4

High Holidays Special Edition 2012: Revival of the Insta-Repent

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.

*In light of the recent controversy that began here in California, we know our readership is demanding that we come down on one side of the circumcision issue. In short, PRO. PRO, PRO, PRO. For more information or personal anecdotes supporting our position, please contact Lauren or Jessica directly.

**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)

Stephen S. Wise: Bloggers Fail

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

Friday Night Live: Welcome to Club Shabbat

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.

Alotta Shabbata: High Holy Days Special Edition

It’s late August, and you just called your great aunt Shirley who lives two hours away, “just to say hello.”  Around the coffee machine at work, you subtly probe your 40-something Jewish colleague to see if he belongs to a shul.  Desperate, you consider calling your schmuck of an ex-boyfriend to see if he’s got the hook-up.  Yes, High Holidays are a comin’, and like us, you fall into what we call “the Jewish Black Hole.”  Your Bar Mitzvah is behind you, you haven’t gone forth and multiplied yet, and you’d rather spend 300 bucks on an Apple product than temple membership.  If you spend half of Yom Kippur repenting for how you got your Yom Kippur tickets, then you are not alone.  We, too, are High Holiday Whores.*‡ 

We thought this would be our big year. After years of frantic scrambling for last-minute tix,  we thought for sure that our wildly successful blog would get us on The List for all of LA’s hottest ‘gogues this year. [We also thought we’d have a reality TV show by now, but that’s a story for a different blog post.] So color us surprised when, days before the holiest of days, we found ourselves ticket-less. Thankfully, Lauren’s boyfriend’s aunt came to the rescue with two Golden Tickets (thanks, Aunt Kathy!), and off to Stephen S. Wise Temple we went!

For our goyim readership who may not be well-versed in synagogue attendance patterns, here’s the reader’s digest version: Jews come crawling out of the woodwork to attend four services over a ten day period. High Holidays 101: It’s kind of like a prolonged Christmas, except instead of celebrating joy, family, and goodwill, we celebrate guilt.

Due to the high demand for inscription into the Book of Life for another year, Stephen S. Wise holds services in three locations simultaneously. We got to atone for our sins at Republican stronghold Bel Air Presbyterian Church, famous for providing former President Ronald Reagan with his spiritual sustenance. Perched in the clouds overlooking the San Fernando Valley, the altitude and the surround sound acoustics of Bel Air Presbyterian made us feel like we were floating in a celestial afterworld, well-deserved after we hiked up a big-ass hill in heels to get from the parking lot to the church.

For all four services, we strategically placed ourselves in the nosebleed section so we could avoid social contact under the auspices of focusing on deep repentance. This plan failed on multiple accounts listed below:

1. On our way in the door on Rosh Hashanah, the temple greeter hit a nerve with Lauren when she grilled her about her Irish last name. Maybe she just needed Lauren’s surname to look up our reservation, but Lauren had an unpleasant flashback to the time she had to defend her Jewish identity to Israeli security. 

2. The Jewish mother to our left took the Torah procession as an opportunity to probe us about our ages and relationship statuses, not awkward at all given that her adult son was to her immediate left.

3. We felt compelled to shoot dirty looks every so often to the boisterous family behind us. We repented every time. We’re big fans of the insta-repent.

In addition to these social challenges, we faced other High Holiday hardships as well, particularly on Yom Kippur. With temperatures nearing freezing in the nosebleed section and nary a cup of coffee to be found, the physical conditions made spiritual concentration nearly impossible. Under the shadow of a 30-foot wooden cross, Jessica succumbed to hunger-induced narcolepsy while Lauren snuck out the back door to have Second Breakfast. We may be the worst Jews ever, but maybe the Presbyterians would take us?


*This message was approved by a rabbi.
‡ We’ll repent next year for using “High Holidays” and “whore” in the same sentence, but it felt so right at the time. Isn’t that how all sins begin? Oy.


Chai-lights:
1.  The practical Rosh Hashanah sermon about being present
2.  The mad Hebrew skills of the adolescents who read the Torah portion--way to go, kids, for making it cool to be Jewish
3.  The generosity of Stephen S. Wise for taking in these wandering Jewesses on the holiest days of the year



Kvetches:
1.  So hard to be present when you’re starving and freezing
2.  Uphill shlepping in heels--where da shuttle at?
3.  We felt like we needed a couple of extra days to atone for the sins accumulated during the services... guess we have a head start on next year.



Total Bagels:

In the spirit of Yom Kippur, this blog post will remain bagel-less.

Leo Baeck Temple: Classin' It Up in Bel Air

We decided to take advantage of Leo Baeck’s final outdoor summer Shabbat service before LA’s frigid winter begins (an icy 67 degrees...brrr!).  This homey outdoor service takes place in a sukkah-like outdoor chapel, and you’d never guess that the country’s busiest freeway (we hate you, 405) is right across the street.  The outdoor space is surrounded by palm trees, flowers, and urban wildlife; locals report sighting mountain lions, snakes, and one lone deer... sounds Biblical to us.  

Based on our past experience as the only two young-and-happening people in LA who go to Shabbat services, we’ve come to expect red carpet treatment upon our arrival.  Leo Baeck delivered.  We didn’t even have time to make it to the bathroom before being snatched up by the warm-spirited temple President, Lori, who was kind enough to share her blanket with these ill-prepared visitors who were caught off-guard by that Bel Air breeze.

The service itself was led by a tag team of two rabbis and one guitar (previously owned by Jewish music legend Debbie Friedman!  Only in LA.).  The rabbis led us in pretty, modern versions of standard Friday night jams, followed by a brief Torah study sesh.  Lauren was into it.  Jessica had flashbacks to AP English and wondered aloud when we would get back to the singing and clapping.  

The rest of the evening was an emotional roller coaster.  After we finished hitting “the Book,” a classy older couple joined the rabbis on stage for a heartfelt blessing before their wedding.  Lauren had an unsavory display of emotion, completely inappropriate given that she didn’t know the couple from Adam and Eve.  No one should cry like that for complete strangers, even if they are classy.  After sopping up Lauren’s tears with Lori’s fleece blanket, we hit up the stacked pre-matrimonial oneg for some decaf and pastries.  In this town, you just never know who you’re gonna meet over rugelach.  Our Shabbat prayers were answered when we got a free (and technically unsolicited) session with a self-proclaimed “life coach to the stars.”  At Leo Baeck, we truly felt like the fresh Jewish-American princesses of Bel Air.

Chai-lights:
1.  Beautiful outdoor oasis
2.  Insta-family
3.  Impromptu life coaching.

Kvetches:
1.  Too far for us to schlep on a regular basis.
2.  Decaf coffee.  What’s the point?
3.  All the crying, and it wasn’t even Yom Kippur.  WTF?

Total Bagels: 4.5

Temple Beth Israel of Highland Park and Eagle Rock: The Sweetest Little Shul East of La Brea

We visited this charming synagogue on a sunny Saturday morning. This ‘gogue, around since 1929, is nestled in the residential area of Highland Park. If you’re not averse to commerce on Shabbat, you can drop off your whites at the lavandería, eat a homemade taco, and pick up a dress for your quinceañera on the way. This sweet little shul is surrounded by palm trees and native Californian plants, and the door is left open during services so you can enjoy the view of the rolling hills, along with the chirping birds and occasionally, a barking dog or two.

This synagogue’s dark wood interior and beautiful stained glass windows create a warm and intimate environment. Speaking of intimate, we’ve never visited a friendlier Sabbath crowd. As a visitor, expect a personal tour, an enthusiastic handshake after every aliyah, and an invitation to join the rabbi on the bimah the following week. As much as we would have loved to grace the stage, we politely declined given our rigorous Shabbat schedule.

Like the good Type A-ers that we are, we arrived at ten on the dot only to quickly realize that these congregants are a laidback bunch. Folks rolled in throughout the morning and had no problem carrying on lively conversations during the service (especially with us...we felt like Shabbat celebs!). There was an impromptu question and answer sesh during the Torah service, spurred by the oldest and cutest little mensch we’ve ever seen. If you’re not spending your Saturdays with senior citizens, then you’re not living.

A few logistical notes: If the last time that you brushed up on your Hebrew skills was 7th grade, you might get a little tripped up during the service. We sure did. Also, BYOT: don’t forget your tallis, y’all. The latest in prayer shawl fashion was the topic of many a mid-service conversation. Plan on davening until around 12:30, and if you can’t stay for the Kiddush lunch afterwards, be prepared for a serious dose of Jewish guilt.  We had to hit it to get to our respective book club meeting and Bollywood aerobics class, but we wish we could have stayed.

If you’re a lonely Jew in LA, this shul is the fast track to community. You’ll be instantly loved. Oh, and don’t forget to become their Facebook friend... something tells us they’ll be checking!

Chai-lights
1. Serious ‘gogue pride
2. Historic value, a rarity in LA
3. Proximity to tacos

Kvetches
1. A little intense if you prefer anonymity on the Sabbath
2. Yet again, a geriatric crowd. Surprise, surprise.
3. Two words: Tallis. Envy.

Total Bagels:  Four out of five