From Lee Bailey's "The Immaculate Perception?," Fall '96 From Lee Bailey's "The Immaculate Perception?," Fall '96Understanding the complexities of JudaismFrom Lee Bailey's "The Immaculate Perception?," Fall '96Understanding the complexities of Judaismtakes more than one High Holy Day service. From Lee Bailey's "The Immaculate Perception?," Fall '96Understanding the complexities of Judaismtakes more than one High Holy Day service. Most of you know last weekend was Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. For many Jewish students at Penn, the holiday meant a flight home to celebrate with family, a time to reflect on the past year and look forward to the next. For the gentiles at Penn, however, Rosh Hashanah means little more than an empty campus and rabbis proffering apples and honey on Locust Walk. In the two years I've been at Penn, I've made many Jewish friends. And while individually I don't distinguish them from my non-Jewish friends, I have always, with good reason, felt outside of the subset I once heard referred to as the "Jewniversity of Pennsylvania." I have certainly never been bothered by the Jewish contingent at Penn, although I have always regarded their religion as somewhat of a mystery. So given my English Protestant ancestry and consequent ignorance of all things Jewish, I'm always open to new adventures in a faith that was once described to me as "Christianity, only there's no Christ." Therefore, I jumped at the invitation of a friend to attend services last Friday night. I would like to share my recent experience with all of you Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Taoists, atheists, wiccans and conspiracy theorists who may be as ignorant as I was. My first worry in preparation for my new religious adventure was the lack of a yarmulke in my wardrobe. Who knew I would one day need such an article, which I once thought was used to cover bald spots? I was therefore relieved when my friend informed me that generic yarmulkes would be provided free of charge at the door, a precaution against those chronically less-observant Jews. I wondered more than once, "Will I look sexy in my yarmulke?" My next step was to inquire of my Jewish friends about any ritualistic procedures of which I might not be aware. This fear stems from a Sunday when I visited a Catholic friend's Mass. There I used the holy water to wash my hands and crossed myself backwards the whole time. I wanted no such mistakes to mar my first Jewish holiday observance. They all told me that there was nothing to fear. The rabbi would explain everything. When Friday came, I was very excited to be doing something different for once. I anticipated that getting holy was going to be much more interesting than getting wasted. As the sun set and my friend and I marched to services, I was ready to be spellbound and was feeling fortunate to be tagging along to a rite previously foreign to me. Once inside I sat with my friend and watched people file in. Suddenly I worried that they were all staring, somehow aware of my status as goyim. Was my yarmulke askew? Could they smell the bacon from my wholly un-kosher Burger King Shabbat dinner? What was wrong? My friend assured me that these fears were irrational, and that I should just pay attention to the service. After a brief welcome, the rabbi yielded the floor to a similarly robed cantor, who began chanting prayers in Hebrew. Initially, I was charmed by this practice. The rabbi would refer to a page number in the prayer book, and the cantor would sing the prayer. However, I soon wearied of this tag-team approach as I waited for substantial speech in English. And waited. And waited. But there wasn't any! Eighty-five percent of the entire service was in a language I had heard only on CNN World Report. While I hardly expected all of Jewry to conform to the expectations of a visiting Presbyterian, I was quite surprised by the high Hebrew content. Even my friend, who is admittedly a casual Jew, confessed to ignorance of the language. Despite this barrier, however, I did enjoy the service as a new experience. After discussing the issue with some other friends I realized that speaking in Hebrew is just a part of the rich Jewish tradition. I'm sorry to disappoint any of you who might have been hoping for conversion, but I think I'll stick with good old Presbyterianism. I can barely speak French, so I'm sure that Hebrew would present much too great a challenge -- not to mention that I've always hated lox. Also, I'm not sure I can wait around for a(nother) Savior. Nonetheless, I now respect Judaism more than ever and I will continue to delight in the diversity it lends to our campus. In fact, I recommend a trip to services to all my fellow gentiles, with one reminder: bring bobby pins.
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