Brookwrite

Year of the lox

by Doug Brook
Southern Shofar Columnist

It's the High Holy Days again. The season when Jews gather in temples and synagogues for the event referred to in David Bowman's cryptic last transmission in Arthur C. Clarke's "2001: A Space Odyssey": "My god, it's full of Jews..."

Which brings up an important question: Will they make a movie out of the final book in Clarke's epic series?

Since this question is complicated, we'll address a simpler question: Why do Jews suddenly come out of the woodwork for the High Holy Days?

And can't we find a carpenter who can fix that? I see bumper stickers everywhere proclaiming, "My boss is a Jewish carpenter." Maybe he works on Sundays.

So, why do Jews suddenly appear at services on the High Holy Days? Whatever the reason, it's better than nothing. But it's time to explore why so many of us settle for better than nothing.

Let's look at the math. Most Jews come to services only once or twice a year. That's the equivalent of paying a couple hundred dollars for theater tickets. The sermon can't be that good. And you know it isn't for the luncheon on Yom Kippur. So why does this happen?

Our investigative mole set out to discover why most Jews don't come to services during the year. Unfortunately, she went to services to find them. We are interviewing for a new investigator. (Email your resume to soshofar@aol.com, and include a 500 word essay explaining why working for this column will make you a better, more reverent Jew.)

Let's discount some common theories:

The Cartoon Conspiracy. With the decline of quality Saturday morning cartoons over the years, there's no way we're staying home just to watch them. May as well sleep in.

If you are shomer Shabbat (Yiddish for "hides the remote on Saturdays"), trust me. The cartoons have gone downhill. At least, that's what I'm told. Of course, I wouldn't know... And I have a ski resort in Eilat to sell you.

The Sleeping-in Scenario. After uproarious Friday nights (Shabbat dinners, of course), we are too exhausted to wake up Saturday morning. Possible. This could be solved by petitioning the networks to air better cartoons. Make sure your letters are not postmarked on Saturday.

You may have come this far and wondered why so many people measure a person's Jewishness based on their attendance at services. Good question. This question, like the decline of Saturday morning cartoons, has been bothering Jewish scholars since it was originally asked in the year 461 (261 on the west coast).

The simple answer is "why not?". People measure things as they see fit. Some use a yardstick. Some use the palm of their hand. You can measure things however you want, but that doesn't mean they're all correct.

We could measure Jewishness in many ways: activity in Jewish groups, invitations to Jewish weddings, amount of corned beef on rye consumed per month, what they were doing eight days after they were born (Not just boys. Find an eight-day-old Jewish girl. I guarantee she'll laugh that day. She's laughing at the boys.). While these things make people well-fed, it does not make them Jewish.

So, who is a Jew?

No, I'm not touching this one. There's no point in satirizing an issue that is already a satire in its own right.

Does going to services make you Jewish? Not by itself, though it doesn't hurt (unless the pews need to be reupholstered).

But some measure a person's Jewishness based on visible measures. Aside from the stereotypical attributes (black coat, beanie, sideburns, extra lox on the bagel), what else is obvious? Going to services. That is, without an engraved invitation announcing an unusual event (birth, bar mitzvah, wedding, death, Birmingham getting an NFL franchise).

Of course, there remains the real reason that Jews attend High Holy Day services. America has apple pie, Judaica has guilt. What better way to get a guilt-instilled people to go somewhere than to make them feel guilty about not atoning for the things they feel guilty about?

So, if you're feeling guilty about going only to High Holy Day services to absolve yourself of guilt lest you feel guilty about your guilt for another year, plead "not guilty." (Though most Jews can plead "guilty by reason of temporary insanity", thanks to Jewish mothers.) Just go to services. And think about what you may do different this time around.

So, what's the true measure of a Jew? How the person lives. Being a mensch (or menschette). Acting in a way fitting to Jewish teachings and ethics (unlike the pathetic use of human flesh who cut me off on the highway this morning. How rude of him to force me to pass him and cut him off, making him miss his exit.)

This is the standard I hope to be measured against. Except when I have pepperoni pizza on a Friday night.

Doug Brook is a technical writer in California who, after half a bottle of Gan Eden cabernet, composed a special blessing for eating non-kosher food. Not just to be sacrilegious, but also out of gratitude for being given the freedom to choose to do things he'll have to atone for on Yom Kippur.