Night:

2007, The Peak of My Religious Piety: It’s 11pm on Yom Kippur eve, but I’m not that tired. I reach for a book about rabbis from the Talmud. There’s one about a rabbi who confronts a Roman empress:

Roman empress scoffs: “What does your God do all day?”

Rabbi answers even-temperedly: “God makes matches between man and woman.”

I believe, with a kind of simple faith that’s synonymous with virgins from Laura Ingalls Wilder-esque novels, that God has made my match. I’ll meet him when I’m approximately 20.

But no later than 22. I silently cry. There’s little room at the High Holiday hearth for a female singleton.

I chase any vestige of fear by reciting the whole entire shema prayer and by learning two pages of the Chofetz Chaim’s “Guard Your Tongue.” I gently wrap a blanket over my chin and breathe happily: There. I’m amassing good deeds so that I can soon be a young Jewish bride.

I don’t know yet that I’ll spend the next 8 years as an untouched, un-romanced woman.

2017, The Peak of Newfound Secular Living: It’s 11pm on Rosh Hashanah eve and I’m alone in my apartment. I watched Stephen King’s It a couple of weeks ago. I’ve slept with a light on since because—yes—the thought of a fictional demonic clown is still too terrible to bear in the dark. My roommates will murder me after reading September’s electricity bill. I’m scared of them too.

And are you not scared of God’s wrath? My brain suddenly shrills. His vengeful wrath as he smites you for being so apathetic on His New Year? He’ll punish you and deprive you of love, luck, and—I try to shut it up.

After watching Netflix’s Jerry Before Seinfeld, it finally dials down to a background murmur. Irreverent Jews will always find comfort in one another. Thanks, Jer.

I manage to sleep.

Morning:

2007: Walking to shul on Yom Kippur morning, I cross paths with a dark-eyed, charmingly scruffed yeshiva boy. When you’re a hetero 17 girl surrounded by only women every day, almost all XY chromosomes emanate sexy musk from their pores. I grow excited.

He’s wearing a black hat and his eyes are pinned to the ground. He can’t bear to look at my hands or face—the only parts of my body that are naked. Everything else (from collarbone to toes) is safely tucked away under a long sheath, patiently awaiting God’s blessing.

I avert my eyes from him too. We’re both conscious of this aversion and it’s so beautifully awkward.

2017: It’s Yom Kippur morning and I’ll walk towards a Dunkin Donuts. (Thank God I won’t allow the Day of Judgement to infringe on my iced latte cravings.) Men will trek back from shul. I’ll worry that they’ll smell my crushing pile of sin. They’ll know, through some inexplicable Jew-y antenna of theirs, that I used to be a servant of Hashem. I’ll pull up my yoga pants to expose less belly.

After I pick up that iced latte, the paranoia will fade. They’re too fixated on their growling stomachs to care about your sin, you self-absorbed little girl. Caffeine works wonders in tethering me to reality.

After a latte, I’ll meet my boyfriend and kiss him three times on his cushion-like lips. Make that ten times. No—20. Lawless lovers will always discover peace in one another.

Afternoon:

2007: Religious Jews are advised not to nap on Rosh Hashanah because it can foreshadow a spiritual lassitude or a physical fatigue that may hang upon them for the rest of the year. Sans nap, TV, or phone, my friends and I have stretches of time to fill before another holiday dinner. We decide to stroll on Brooklyn’s Ocean Parkway and schmooze like a couple of bubbies:

Me: “In shul today, almost all the women were wearing Valentino heels and Chanel dresses. Why does shul have to be a fashion show?”

Tali: “It’s loshon hora (gossip) to talk about people like that in your shul! Please stop! It’s Rosh Hashanah!”

Me: “Alright.”

But I hate this. I want my friends and I to be walking copies of an Ok! Magazine: equal parts disgusting and unbridled fun. There’s isn’t any laughter on these days. Always somber. Always serious. I scream internally.

Is this the scream bubble that germinates my inevitable dissent? Perhaps.

2017: This Rosh Hashanah, my boyfriend and I lazily lounge on the couch, our conversation quickly taking the pleasurable shape of gossip. But I soon cut the verbal whippings about neighbors, co-workers, and acquaintances short.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because it’s Rosh Hashanah and the pintele Yid, the ‘little Jew,’ does not die.”

My Bais Yaakov teachers warned me about the pintele Yid: “Even the most filthy, immoral Jew will always contain a spark of God,” they said. Now, I know.

Neilah, the Climax of the High Holidays:

2007: I stand united with my congregation. Yom Kippur is racing to the finish line. The heavenly gates are quickly locking, our fates quickly solidifying. Quivers of desperation ripple through the sick, the anxious, the poor, the lonely. For a moment, my burning tears speak when I cannot. For a moment, I see God eagerly collecting our collapsing bodies into his expansive chest. For a moment, we fit.

2017: It’s the last hour of Yom Kippur, the moment when spiritual listlessness crawls up my skin like a hot rash.

As a distraction, I turn to social media. There’s more news about Kylie Jenner’s pregnancy. And I think: How can I daven to a God that allows the Kardashians to infest the world’s collective newsfeed every minute? I grow increasingly fatalistic. And then nihilistic.

But cynicism crumples upon itself to expose a little girl mourning a faith that once felt like home. What do you do when you no longer believe, but miss believing?

I sigh and then slip on my headphones; I know, at the very least, that God is unblemished in music. This turns into passionate, fastidious prayer.

Rebecca Mordechai has an MA in English Literature and used to teach teens. But now she writes about her ever-evolving identity and lots of other Jewy things.

Image via Pixabay

The post Ten Years Later: The High Holidays for an Ex-Orthodox Jew appeared first on Jewcy.

From the outside, Life Boutique Thrift looks just like any other secondhand shop in Brownstone Brooklyn. Take a step inside, however, and you’ll discover that this Park Slope store actually quite different from the others. For starters, it’s the project of Hershy and Leah Mayer, an Orthodox Jewish couple from nearby Borough Park. It’s also a charitable enterprise: all of the profits go to Chai Lifeline, an organization that provides support services (including a summer camp) for Jewish children with life-threatening illnesses.

“It all started when a friend called me and said ‘I have 200 never-used vintage pocketbooks that were left to me by my late mother. Can you find a way to use them for tzedakah (charity)?’” Leah explained in her warm, soft voice. “At the time of this fateful phone call, my husband was not working because he had just sold his business. We both had extra time on our hands and started to increase our volunteer hours at Chai Lifeline. We were wondering about how to get involved with the organization in a bigger way. And when we suddenly got the call from this friend, it was like bam! Let’s use these pocketbooks to start a vintage shop that raises money for Chai Lifeline!”

Soon other valuable pieces, like Chanel dresses and Versace belts, started pouring in from philanthropists, friends, and personal acquaintances. According to Leah, they experienced a stroke of ‘divine providence’ when a friend offered to rent out a storefront in the notoriously expensive neighborhood below market rate. “We totally lucked out on that,” she said with a wide grin.

Life is now a neighborhood fixture, beloved by artsy Pratt students, long-time locals, and those who simply “get pumped by the sh*t in the thrift shop,” to quote Macklemore. Named one of the best shops in Park Slope by TimeOut New York, many of their items are sold at a fraction of retail store prices (hello, $40 Salvatore Ferragamo heels!). In addition to clothes and accessories, there are records from the 70s, loveseats from the 50s, typewriters for Hemingway-wannabes, smoking pipes, and dozens of other tchotchkes and curiosities.

Millennials and art students on shoestring-budgets aren’t the Mayers’ only customers though. Their second location further north in Park Slope curates more upscale designer pieces—think Burberry, Valentino, YSL—as well as merchandise from retailers like J.Crew and Banana Republic. This storefront is smaller and cozier, with a more boutique, high-end vibe (no knick-knacks, records, or furniture). Recently, the Mayers opened a third shop in Fort Greene, offering a combination of thrift and boutique. Despite their differing aesthetics, all stores are extremely organized with color-coordinated racks and friendly, Yelp-approved staff.

“I love that we have many Jewish shoppers,” Leah says as she waves hello to a regular customer walking through the door. “Many of them come to the store with several bags of donations after a big house cleaning. But then they leave the store with several bags of purchases too!”

Life is pretty much the perfect place to transform your self-indulgent consumerist impulses into eco-conscious, meaningful good deeds: pick up a couple of lovely 60s frocks to wear to synagogue for the High Holidays (and do your Bubbe proud!); buy your hosts a cool vintage lamp instead of the same old bunch of flowers. And if you don’t need anything at all, make a donation to Chai Lifeline. ‘Tis the season for tzedakah.

Life Boutique Thrift can be found at: 515 5th Ave, Brooklyn (South Slope); 66 5th Ave, Brooklyn (North Slope); 469 Vanderbilt Ave, Brooklyn (Fort Greene).

The post Brooklyn’s Best Vintage Store Also Supports Jewish Kids With Serious Illnesses appeared first on Jewcy.

With a curly gray wig and pink, comically smudged lipstick, Gary Spielberg (no relation to the legendary filmmaker), 26, is ready to rock, “Baba Fira“-style.

“Baba Fira” is the Russian Jewish grandmother persona that Spielberg created for his popular YouTube series in February 2012. In these parodies, Baba Fira force-feeds her 21-year-old grandson Olivier (a popular Russian potato salad), then nags him to lose weight in order to attract a good wife. In spite—or perhaps because of—her guilt-inducing tirades, Baba Fira has amassed 813,747 YouTube views, and comments like “Entertainment at its best! Subscribed!” are ubiquitous.

On a recent summer day, I sat down with Gary to discuss his Russian-Jewish background, comedic inspiration, and future projects. He made me erupt in laughter several times (which I’m normally not quick to do) by effortlessly shifting into Baba Fira’s high-pitched voice and lovable character.

Why did you choose to direct and act in Russian-inspired comedy?

Well, I emigrated with my family from Kharkov, Ukraine to New York in 1990. I was two-years-old at the time. And I later grew up in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn—which is a very Russian populated area in New York. Obviously, Russian culture was a significant part of my identity. Growing up, I originally considered becoming a lawyer and even went to a high school specializing in teaching law. But I later became much more interested in film making and made a big career switch by going to Brooklyn College’s Film School. I took many screenwriting, producing, and directing classes, but I never took official acting ones.

What inspired you create a parody of the Russian babushka in particular?

I used to love prank calling my Russian friends and pretending to be their grandmother. I would yell things like, “Oh my God! Where are you?! I’m going to tell your mom!” These prank calls were very successful! I always scared my friends. And, of course, that was fun to do. I also wanted to create a Russian version of the popular Sh*t New Yorkers say meme that was popular on YouTube.

So one day, in February of 2012, I called my friend Ari Barkan, to act as ‘grandson Joseph’ and another friend to film. We all went to my grandma’s apartment in Brighton Beach when she was out for a doctor’s appointment. I then quickly did an outline for all topics I wanted to cover in the video: Babushka worrying about her grandson’s lack of a serious girlfriend, demanding that her grandson eat grenkie (Russian French toast) and then later pointing out that he’s getting fat, and criticizing her grandson’s “impractical” acting profession. When we shot that video, and I got into full Babushka mode by putting on a house robe, wig, and makeup, I literally became a different person. It was as if I really was a Russian Babushka! In those moments, all of my personal experiences with my own Russian grandmother resurfaced and the Baba Fira character was created. Everyone in the video just improvised and went with the flow. Barely anything was scripted.

I was very close to not releasing the first Baba Fira video. I personally didn’t find it so funny because I wondered “can anyone else relate to this but me?”  I only ended up releasing it because I felt bad that my friends invested so much time in it. I felt very gratified when one of our Baba Fira videos became the second most viewed video on Reddit in Russia, after a political video with Putin speaking.

That’s very cool! Tell me about the Brooklyn Russian Vines.

I started it in November 2013. They’re more like Instagram videos, which are 15 seconds. The best part about these video is that I am able to introduce more characters! I joke about random things that Russian parents and people in the Brooklyn Russian community would say or do.

I promised that I would post at least once or twice day and keep the audiences coming back. And so far, that has worked out very well. The response that we got was amazing. What I love most about this project is when I get a message in my inbox from strangers saying that one of my videos “really uplifted them” or that they were “having the worst day ever, but the Brooklyn Russian Vines changed that.

My favorite character in the Brooklyn Russian Vines is “Yana,” who is a slight caricature of the 20-something Brooklyn Russian girl. Is she based on the girls you date?

Sometimes. I really tend to pick up on little things and mannerisms from any girl that I meet. I’m talking to you right now and I could be picking up on something. I also notice how Russian girls interact with each other on Facebook and social media. I take note of their statuses and their hashtags and what that might say about their general habits.

Being able to riff on small, everyday things that most people don’t even notice is part of being a good comedian. Speaking of which, who’s your all-time favorite comedian?

My favorite comedian is definitely Russell Peters. I want to emulate his work, since he also gears toward an immigrant and first-generation-born audience. He makes great jokes about growing up in an Indian home and many non-Americans can relate to his material. He’ll mimic a conversation that he has with his parents. He’ll say things like “Dad, I’m not feeling well,” and the dad will overreact and say “Oh my goodness. You have fever! We must take you to the hospital!” Russian parents can also be just like that, and I love how this humor connects all kinds of immigrants together. Watching someone like Peters motivates me to get into stand-up as well, though it’s obviously a different monster than directing and acting.

Do you specifically aim your comedy to a Russian-Jewish audience, or to the broader Russian community?

I try not to make specific Russian-Jewish jokes because I think that everyone in the Russian community should be able to relate to my material. I have many non-Jewish friends and I want everybody in the Russian community to find my vines enjoyable. But, okay, maybe there’s just one Yiddish phrase that I use in my videos: “Kishin tuchus!” (“Kiss my butt!”) My mom and grandma always say that to me when I want something but can’t have it. “You want so-and-so? Kishin tuchus!”

You recently led a Birthright trip and will be going again this winter. How did you get involved with the organization? How do you view your Jewish identity?

I first went on Birthright two years ago and had a blast. I even made a Baba Fira video during the trip and got my fellow Birthrighters to be in it! After that initial trip, I really wanted to go on Birthright again as a leader of the group. I even became a prime advertiser for the EzraUSA subdivision of Birthright, which attracts many young Russian Jews. I ended up recruiting 275 applicants to the program.

And after I got involved with Birthright, many other organizations targeting young Jews—like Hillel campuses in New York—heard about me and asked me to perform Baba Fira skits at their events. I now volunteer for young Jewish organizations like Ezra USA. The Jewish community in New York is a very generous one and I strongly believe in giving back. I also believe in maintaining my Jewish identity and having a Jewish wife! We’re a small breed and we need to keep strong.

What’s next for Baba Fira?

The next video project is going to be like a “Russian Cooking for Dummies.” In this weekly YouTube series, Baba Fira will show everyone how to cook Russian food. I love to cook and learned a lot from my own grandmother. So, I’m excited that this series will be both educational and entertaining, and also hopefully expand to an American audience as well. Stay tuned and learn how to make really good borscht!

But, other than that, Baba Fira’s biggest future project involves making a movie. The premise is Baba Fira traveling with her grandson Joseph across America, as they get into lots of hijinks. I met up with some writers at Comedy Central to discuss it. There’s definitely potential to make Baba Fira bigger and reach a wider audience.

I know we spoke a lot about the fictional “Baba Fira,” but what is it like having a real Russian Jewish grandma?

My grandmother is very cool. She was a medical surgeon in Ukraine. And she also, of course, makes great and abundant food. I love when she makes kakleitki—Russian style hamburgers.  But she’s also on my case a lot and will ask the same questions about my personal life multiple times. And she’ll be blunt with her opinions. While this tests my patience, it has also helped me to become a better person in general. My grandmother’s tough love has definitely prepared me for the rest of the world’s criticism. Now, thanks to my Babushka, general criticism doesn’t really bother me. And I’m starting to cherish my grandparents more than ever because I know that they won’t always be around. While they’re still here, I’m asking them as many questions about their past as I possibly can. I listen to all their incredible, miraculous life stories and even plan to eventually make a documentary about them. Aside from the lighthearted and funny aspect of my Baba Fira videos, I hope that that they’ll also encourage my generation of Russian-Americans to become more aware of their roots and appreciate the very wonderful craziness of having babushkas and dedushkas (grandfathers) around.

To meet Baba Fira in person, check out the Annual Brighton Beach Jubilee Festival on Sunday, August 24.

Rebecca Mordechai is a graduate student in English Literature and a freelance writer living in Brooklyn.

(Images supplied by Gary Spielberg.)

Related: Gary Shteyngart On Surviving Solomon Schechter, Soviet Pain, And Botched Circumcisions

The post Spotlight On: Gary Spielberg, A.K.A. Russian Comedy Sensation Baba Fira appeared first on Jewcy.