To Jew or Not to Jew

I've decided to be Jewish again. That sounds weird. What I mean is, I would like to get in touch with my Jewish faith again. That just sounds gay. Anyway! Once upon a time, from third to fifth grade, I went to temple twice a week: Hebrew school on Wednesdays and services on Saturday. I despised it. I happened to live in a mostly non-Jewish neighborhood in northern Virginia, so I didn't know any of the kids at my synagogue. They were rich and snobby and had names like Tiffany and Alexis, and my dad always forgot to pick me up after temple, so I spent a lot of time watching the Tiffanys and Alexises get whisked away in their parents' Mercedeses while I sat on the curb. Let's hear it for awkward plurals!

When I was 10 we moved to Montana, where the tiny Jewish community lacked both a rabbi and a synagogue. Once a month, they would fly in a rabbi from New York to conduct all the necessary Jew business (bar mitzvahs, weddings, the occasional holiday service). There was a makeshift "Sunday school" at the YWCA, which mostly consisted of dirty-hippie arts-and-crafts. Combined with the fact that some of my classmates truly believed that I personally nailed Jesus to the cross, I quickly lost interest in Judaism and didn't even make it to my bat mitzvah.

Fast-forward to college, where I fully intended to get involved with the NYU Jew-people. Then I encountered the JAPs—who were the grown-up versions of Tiffany and Alexis—and that was the end of that.

After my friend's lovely Jewish wedding this past weekend, I've decided to try again. In the event that I ever rope myself a husband, I would like my ceremony to be performed by a rabbi I've known for a while, not one I find in the Yellow Pages. Maybe I'll meet a kindly old yenta who will find me a nice man. Or, you know, I'll just meet some peeps to sit shiva for me in case I kick the bucket. So I found a Reform temple close to my apartment in Brooklyn that looks promising. I'm either going to Shabbat services tonight or tomorrow morning. I'll let you know how it goes. As long as no one is named Tiffany, the Jew thing might work out this time.