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.
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.
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 oasis2. Insta-family3. 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
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
You know you’ve heard about Ikar, and if you haven’t, then you better pretend that you have when you’re hangin’ with the hip Jews. According to its website, Ikar is “not your Bubbe’s temple,” and word on the street is that this ‘gogue is the ish. Its reputation for social and environmental activism and beachside services led us to expect a hemp-wearing crunchy granola crowd and a service light on the Hebrew and heavy on the Eastern philosophy. Instead, we found that we were the remedial Jews in a room full of surprisingly knowledgeable and deeply spiritual congregants. The crowd (probably 150 souls throughout the morning) was by far the most diverse we have ever seen in synagogue: young families, multiracial adopted children, hippies, hipsters, people of color, teens, and enough lesbians to fill an Ani DiFranco concert.
Although this was the biggest Shabbat crowd we’ve encountered so far, the service was surprisingly intimate and personal. It was led by two thoughtful, passionate young female rabbis, both with sweet singing voices and a gift for poignancy. Accompanied by bongo drums, the crowd swayed, moaned, hummed, clapped, stomped, and shook what Hashem gave them. The service included seven aliyot which were very touching. And very long. Ikar’s three-hour Saturday morning service is for Shabbat heavyweights only.
Note: If they pass around mid-morning “snacks” during services, don’t eat them. We thought we were getting a complimentary sugar boost to revitalize us two hours into the service, but it turns out those Sunkists were supposed to be thrown at a bride and groom. Oops. Mazel tov to the cute couple, but boo for the snack tease.
Chai-lights
1. Pretzel challah with mustard!
2. Lots of extracurricular activities offered for you to deepen your Jewish knowledge (or to find your Jewish husband).
3. Unlimited coffee and tea all morning (Thank Gawd).
Kvetches
1. Long ass service. We felt spiritual enough after the first hour and a half.
2. Sunkist snack tease. Bring a granola bar.
3. We can only think of two kvetches, making the total bagel count...
Total Bagels:
FIVE OUT OF FIVE!!
On a dark and rainy night, we ventured to the depths of Pasadena to visit the aptly-named Pasadena Jewish Temple & Center. PJTC bills itself as a Conservative congregation for those of you who like to get your Hebrew on, but we found that even in this Conservative ‘gogue, SoCal’s unique flavor shines through. The rabbi broke out bongo drums mid-service to accompany the guitar-wielding cantor, and Rabbi Pasadena leads a weekly meditation group and an interfaith study session, teaches yoga, and delivered a sermon all about Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s recent visit. We dug his enlightened vibe, and it was cool of him to make small talk with us after the service (although in hindsight, it was probably just because we were possible ‘gogue recruits under the age of 45).
The night we were there, a large group had assembled for a Bat Mitzvah. Unlike the two of us at thirteen, this young lady was not sporting glasses OR braces and seemed to be relatively socially competent. Good for her. For the record, we’d just like to state that it is possible for ugly Bat Mitzvah ducklings to mature into high-functioning, reasonably socially normal human beings by their late 20s. Good for us.
Chai-lights
1. Beautiful stained glass ark with a rad Sephardic Torah
2. Comfy seats
3. Late service (8pm) for those who need a little breather between work and welcoming the Sabbath bride
Kvetches
1. Dearth of young Jewish men for Jessica to date. What else is new?
2. Comfy seats--way too easy to doze off
3. 8pm is a little late for those of us who like to hit the town on a Friday night... or those of us who like to hit the sack by 9pm
Total Bagels:
3.5
On the whole, our experience at Temple Israel of Hollywood was a great, quirky blend of classic weird Hollywood and progressive Reform spirituality. When the cantor who led the service started referencing Buddhist goddesses, it was confirmed that we had definitely ventured outside of our Virginia and Dallas roots. The cantor seemed made for show business, kind of like a singing, Jewish George Clooney. Welcome to Hollywood. It was unclear whether he was Israeli or just really good at pronouncing Hebrew prayers; regardless, he was a great storyteller who rocked some Debbie Friedman tunes on the guitar. Thumbs up for the cantor.
The real highlight of the evening happened when we stood and faced the door to greet the Sabbath bride. A whispered commotion erupted behind us. We thought people must be really into the Shabbat spirit, but no--a rhinestone-collared Chihuahua that was small enough to get lost on a Seder plate had just joined us for services. Its leather-studded, soul-patched owner (we’ll call him Ed Hardy Goes to Shul, or EHGtS) was not far behind. From a distance, we thought he could be Jessica’s first Shabbat suitor, but upon closer inspection, we were not impressed by the embroidered dragon on his vest or his gefilte fish-sized dog. Can’t handle a real dog, can’t handle a real woman.
We should also note that the logistics of entering the temple proved challenging even for two brilliant Jewesses like us. After an easy 15-minute shlep on the Red Line (Go Metro!), we marched through the Hollywood & Highland madness in our Shabbas finery, braving crowds of camera-wielding tourists, rabid shoppers, and an actual red carpet that forced us to cross the street unnecessarily multiple times. Feeling quite relieved to arrive safely at our destination, we approached the regal double doors of TIoH with anticipation and delight. Unfortunately, the doors did not open. After knocking several times to no avail, we made the trek around the block (in HEELS) to the back alley parking lot where a security guard marked the actual entrance to the service. Budget an extra ten minutes into your travel time for navigation.
Chai-lights
1. Friendly, welcoming congregation
2. Good cookies at oneg
3. Teacup chihuahua. I mean, seriously.
Kvetches
1. Why invest in fancy doors if you’re not going to use them?
2. Demographics: the 40-70 crowd was well-represented, but where are all the young folks? You don’t count, Ed Hardy.
3. Buddhist goddesses? Ya killing ya motha.
Total Bagels: Four out of five
