Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot–who gives a shit as long as the rabbi hurries up, right? We all need to get home to our DVR and whiskey. Let’s be honest, the only High Holiday modern Jews care about involves a blunt, Chinese food and Christmas.
A few of the most important Jewish holidays approach in the next couple weeks, and like a fastball heading straight for your back you can’t get out of the way; you gotta just take the pain. A number of scared Jewish husbands are wondering: How can I possibly endure endless hours of synagogue bore?
It’s hard enough to stay awake while the wife talks about her day, now we’re expected to listen to a bearded, old man speak in one of the most disgusting languages in etymology’s history.
And pardon me, but I can damn well say Hebrew is a cacophony; I was raised by Israeli parents and have heard the ‘cccccccchhhhh’s all my life. The last thing I wanna do is listen to a rabbi with a 4th-grade, Hebrew-reading level dismantle my language through prayer.
The only thing that I actually respect about a rabbi is his beard. Growing a beard that long takes dedication, patience and involuntary abstinence – because, c’mon now, unless she is being paid, what lady is gonna sleep with that guy?
What I hate about these High Holiday services is the rabbi holds you hostage for three hours. That is criminal – let alone the amount of money he charges you to attend High Holiday services. And then on top of that those additional donations.
You’re charging ME to pray to MY God? Does God ever see this money? No. And he’d probably curse anyone that tries to make a buck off his name.
Fortunately for rabbis across the world, countless people unload their wallets for front row seats during the High Holidays… FRONT ROW SEATS?! Why? Why be so close? Do these people feel holier than the rest of the crowd? Do they think God will reward them for wasting their precious money? If anything, God hates waste. He rewards the Jew that stayed home for the High Holidays and invested on eTrade all night. Forget proximity. Just because you’re closer, doesn’t mean you’re better than me.
Common sense would tell us: If you hate going to the synagogue so much, then don’t go. Just stay home. But it’s not that simple for Jewish husbands. Our wives force us to go, and threaten us with guilt if we don’t. We have no choice.
Assuming that you’re in the same position as I am, here’s your exit strategy for the High Holiday services this year.
You must convince your wife to sit in the back row this year.
When your wife asks “Why?” or “But we paid for front row seats!” then you tell her, “Honey, remember that chicken and rice we had last night? It’s not sitting well with me. I need quick access to the bathroom all night.”
Once you are completely bored of the rabbi–probably 15 minutes into the service–sprint to the bathroom as if you have unbearable diarrhea. Text your wife from the toilet that this is an unbearable situation and you have to go home. If her phone is off, you will have to go back to your seat and whisper it to her in person.
Your wife will let you go because she doesn’t want to risk being associated with a husband who crapped his pants during a High Holiday service in front of the Jewish community.
When you get home, remember to spread out the Pepto Bismol and Tums all over the kitchen table so when your wife gets back she thinks you actually took the appropriate medicine.
The synagogue is like your job: Show up, give a half-assed effort, fake sick and leave early when the boss is turned around.
Rel “BostonJew” Mathiowitz is a neurotic, panicky writer who details his pathetic life stories and frustrated points of view.
Rel is 6 foot 5; however, he makes himself appear to be 5 foot 5 because he wants women to lust for him for his personality, and not his grand stature.