Can I Get a Challah!

Tonight, it being my last Friday in the IZ, I went to shabbat services. This is the first time in... a while. Just as in Mississippi -- the first time I ever went to shul was in Jackson -- I was curious and had nothing better to do at 1830. Also, my hoochmate's colleague, a Navy JAG reservist commander who works at AIPAC in his civilian life, told him to tell me to go.

It turns out that we set some sort of record for the Embassy minyan. Or, rather, it was apparently the first time they had a minyan (there were 11 -- but only if you count the two women and the two goys who showed up to "check it out," which I guess those who care about minyans wouldn't).

I actually liked the service. It was in English for one thing -- other than the songs that the lay leader, an Army public affairs officer, sang -- and wasn't heavy on the God bit. But, of course, because it was all military folks, it wasn't all lovey-dovey kumbaya free-for-all either. I wish I could believe in God so as to have a deeper connection to all this stuff. (As it is, I kinda like the meditative environment -- how hippie of me.)

Anyway, after it was over, the JAG poured the Manischewitz and sliced the "kosher salami" (made of cured beef) that his office back in San Francisco had sent. The wine, of course, was too sweet and disgusting. The meat product was just right.

Then we retired to the DFAC for our "shabbat dinner" -- including little baby challah (the knotted egg-bread) -- which for many of us included the delicious Louisiana-style gumbo they have on Fridays (complete with shrimp, crab, and pork sausage, of course). Appropriately, many of us felt guilty or at least a little odd about this -- but not enough to refrain. Oy vey!