The New Religion

I've sat through 33 Yom Kipper services and counting. I spent a year studying my haftorah. I even brought a pink Tupperware container of tuna fish to lunch during Passover of my 3rd Grade year (is it any wonder I didn't kiss a girl till high school?). But I never really got this whole Judaism thing. Sure, it's good for a joke. And the girls at college, who must have been from the Midwest or something, seemed to have a little thing for East Coast neurotics like me, at least to a point. But it never really registered for me, this whole religion thing I mean, in any meaningful sense. I was emotionally detached, to say the least.

And then last night my sister and I dined at the thankfully re-opened Second Avenue Deli (now on 3rd Avenue). I felt like Moses on the mount as I communed with my hot corned beef sandwich and matzo ball soup. I'm not sure whether the stuffed cabbage actually spoke to me ala the burning bush...but I swear I think it did. Oh, burning stuffed cabbage, how I doused your flames with my Dr. Brown's cream soda! Did we want gribenes for the table? Did we ever! What are we, a couple of goyim? I think not. (And make that chocolate babka a double.)

It amazes me that you don't have to wear a yarmulke in this place. Or a tallis. If I was ever in the mood to do a little davening, here was the time and the place. This was the first time in my life I actually wished my nose was slightly larger.

Let me explain. I live in a land without Jews. Now, I'm not saying Washington, DC, is Berlin circa 1940 or anything...but, seriously, I have never felt so disconnected to my people. I haven't seen a bagel in 5 months. Deli? What's that? Humor? Never heard of it. New York feels like a comfy blanket. It's bad enough i'm white in DC, I can only imagine what the peeps in my hood would yell at me if they knew I was a Jew (I'm pretty sure they still think Jews have horns and tails down there.)

[DC aside: I'm pretty sure I've blogged about this before, but one of my favorite DC anecdotes is the time I was in the local supermarket and some random black guy told me he thought I was Daniel Snyder, owner of the Washington Redskins. In other words: "Hey, you look like that other Jew." Next time I'm grocery shopping in Harlem, I'll be sure and tell someone they look like Magic Johnson.]

But...back to the Second Avenue Deli, and New York City, and life, and diversity, and the warm glow of experiencing something truly, legitimately good. I think that's what I miss most. I love my new house and the trees are nice...but you just don't find many moments like last night at Second Ave. Forty bucks for an unbelievable spread, the hustle and bustle of real city life swirling overhead, case upon case of delicacies....authenticity. My people. The whole 9 yards. That's what I miss the most, the sense that, you know, with very few exceptions, I probably couldn't be experiencing this anywhere else. Ben's Chili Bowl aside, you really don't encounter that in DC. Everything feels nondescript.