When I quit the practice of law, I started working for an organization of 1,700 rabbis. One of their favorite questions to ask me is, (in a VERY strong New York accent), “Are you Jewish?” (They also love to ask me if I’m single, because they know a nice Jewish boy, recently divorced, etc. etc., but that is for another blog entry.)

The conversation almost always goes like this:

Rabbi: “What’s your name? Sounds Jewish, are you Jewish?”
Me: “Well my parents are both Jewish.”
Rabbi: “What’s that supposed to mean? If your parents are Jewish, you’re Jewish.”
Me: “Ok so I guess I’m Jewish.”
Rabbi: “You’re Jewish. Where do you daven (pray)?
Me: “Um, I don’t. I guess I’m more Jew-ISH than Jewish.”
Rabbi: “You young people these days…”

Let me tell you what it means to be Jew-ISH. It’s a strange mix of contradictions that confuses almost everyone, especially my mother. I grew up in Boca Raton, so if I wasn’t given my Jew Card by birth, I’d pretty much have an honorary one anyway.

I can go to a Bar Mitzvah and know all of the prayers. I will also know (and win) all of the Bar Mitzvah party games. (Coke and Pepsi, anyone?) I was a VERY busy 13-year old. Sometimes triple booked on a Saturday. My social life only went downhill from there.

Nowadays, the only time you will find me in a synagogue is when I am invited to a family event like a BMitz. I can guarantee you I have not stepped inside a Jewish service on a normal Saturday in over a decade. HOWEVER, I am fortunate enough to have some #tbts that will live in infamy. I also received a nice chunk of change for a 13 year old (later all lost in the stock market, THANKS DADDY).

If I go to my sister’s house on Passover for a seder, I can follow along in the Hebrew and sing the English songs. But ask me what any of the Hebrew MEANS? No dice.

Sometimes at work, I notice the rabbis aren’t eating (and sometimes they sit on the floor??) I have absolutely no idea what any of that means or the reasoning behind it, but I have learned about the very handy website isitajewishholidaytoday.com. Never fails. Google helps, too. That’s how I solved the floor-sitting mystery.

My mom gave my boyfriend and me a mezuzah to put on the door frame of our new apartment. I absolutely loved it, but it’s been 4 months and it currently sits in a drawer in our entranceway cabinet. In fact, I think we are the one apartment on the Upper West Side without one on our door. Definitely the only one in our building.

I feel entitled to ask for at LEAST 8 presents in December, but I’ll be happy to accompany my boyfriend to Midnight Mass on Christmas. Sometimes I get to ask for 8 presents in November because the Jews follow a moon calendar. Very complicated, involves adding an entire month to the calendar every few years… don’t ask me, I’m just Jew -ISH. Sometimes when I ask for 8 presents, I put them under my Christmas tree. I believe the amazing smell of a fresh fern crosses religious lines. And I don’t put red and green lights on it, just white, so it’s basically a Hanukkah Bush.

There’s one Jewish thing I cannot deny, and that is my beacon of an identifying feature: the schnoz. If you have any questions about Judaism you’d like to ask me, just follow the nose. You’ll probably find it (and me) sitting next to my Christmas tree. And I probably won’t know the answer.