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Pass the Manischewitz
‘Good Shabbos’ from a non-Jewish Student
In New Orleans, it’s often said that where you went to high school is more important than where you went to college. Yes, people actually care more about the place where you went through the braces phase, the angst-filled teen years and, if you were like me, the senior year existential crisis, than the place where some say the “real” learning begins. Even if New Orleanians did care about one’s collegiate alma mater, it wouldn’t really matter for me. No one knows of Washington University in St. Louis, anyway.
Where you went to high school matters, and I was the black sheep of the family. Every one of my siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents—you name it—went to a Catholic, same-sex institution. And then there was me: I went to Catholic school for half my life, until 6th grade, when my mom decided it was time for something different. So began my private, coeducational, nondenominational school journey.
I realize that, for some people, this is not a surprise or a huge deal. But I assure you, everything I do or say that’s even remotely different or unorthodox—particularly in regards to religion—is attributed to my attending of Country Day, at least according to my family members. Of course, I had major issues with my school, some related to the expected private school cliche, others that I won’t get into at the moment. But among the reasons that I appreciate my high school is the perspective I gained from being surrounded by students who practiced different religions. I had been raised (very) Catholic, so I had little to no understanding of my classmates’ varying religions, although most were Jewish. Suddenly, when I got to Country Day, I was in discussions with Christian Scientists and Presbyterians and also attending 13 bat mitzvahs. My siblings, on the other hand, were surrounded solely by Catholic friends growing up and knew of nothing different.
This brings me to now, when, again unlike my family members, I had the opportunity to experience an unfamiliar religion on a more meaningful level by attending Shabbat at Chabad.
On the bitter-cold walk over, I didn’t really know what to expect. Some of my closest friends in high school were Jewish, but our conversations about religion stopped at the difference between Hanukkah and Christmas.
“Good Shabbos,” a friendly woman said to me as I walked through the Chabad doors. I smiled and said, “Thank you,” because I figured expressing gratitude could never be wrong. “What does that mean?” I whispered to a friend next to me. “Happy Shabbat,” she said. Well, I messed up already. ‘She definitely knows I’m not Jewish, now,’ I thought to myself. This awkward encounter aside, I was astounded by the number of people filling this rather small vicinity. But, oddly enough, it didn’t feel overwhelmingly claustrophobic—students were hugging each other and shaking one another’s hands, and no one seemed to really care that it was difficult to walk without accidentally grazing someone’s butt or saying excuse me 10 different times.
I make it to my seat, and suddenly, discomfort consumed me. I fely like everyone was staring at me, thinking to themselves, ‘She’s not Jewish…why is she here?’ It wasn’t until moments later, when the rabbi kindly greeted me, asking if it was my first time at Chabad and about how school was going, that I realized my uncomfortable thoughts were rooted in illogical paranoia.
I was across from my non-Jewish friend, who had accompanied me on this journey, and neither of us knew what to do. So we stood there rather awkwardly and smiled (just smile and wave, boys, smile and wave). But my smile faltered slightly when a Jewish prayer song began, and—much like being at a concert with people who know every lyric when you don’t—I felt slightly out of place. Nevertheless, the song released a spirit of togetherness throughout the crowded room, not unlike the hymns I used to sing in church, although the Hebrew lyrics offered a different, more communal mood.
Shabbat requires more preparation than I had expected. There are prayers, the washing of hands and a blessing from the Rabbi, and it isn’t until all of these steps are completed that we can finally eat. Yet, this preparation ultimately made me more appreciative of the texture of the challah and the taste of the hummus. Unlike our fast-paced lifestyle, the atmosphere at Shabbat is one of patience and appreciation, a refreshing alternative to my usual mindless inhale of food at Bear’s Den. Similarly, having my phone stowed away for an hour and a half reminded me of how important it is to be present and how I tend to go about life forgetting that.
Already full of challah and hummus, I looked over at a friend eating a substance reminiscent of meatloaf or uncooked dough. I was told this is gefilte fish, a traditional Jewish appetizer. I could not imagine putting another thing in my mouth, but in the name of journalism, I asked him to pass it to me. I received a couple of surprised looks, which only made me want to try it more, of course. I took a bite, topped with the horseradish it’s typically served with, and unconsciously made a disgusted face, but surprisingly, I didn’t think it was bad. The gefilte fish was not necessarily good enough for me to take another bite, but I understood its appeal, if cold fish and horseradish is your fancy.
Like I was experiencing the taste of another culture with the gefilte fish, this Shabbat, led by freshmen, attempted to showcase the cuisines of other cultures with an “Around the World” theme and corresponding, geographically diverse dishes.
And while the dishes may not have been culturally authentic per say, the event was impressive in the fact that it was heavily coordinated by freshmen.
“It’s a really cool thing that a lot of the freshmen really came together to plan this. In other years, I’ve heard there hasn’t been as much freshmen representation, so the fact that we had a majority of freshmen, Shabbat-observant kids putting this night together was really great,” freshman Yona Feit, who was one of the planners, said.
While I may not have experienced the authentic culture of Mexico with the taco salad that was served, I do feel as though I gained a deeper understanding of Jewish culture—a culture that encourages community, conversation and appreciation, and one I feel thankful to have been welcomed into on such a special night.