So this past Friday night was a little different from my normal Friday nights. Instead of going to Atlantic Avenue for dinner or heading to Cinemark premiere to watch a movie with Michael, we ended up at temple. Shalom!

My evening began with a near-frantic call to my BF (and one of my first Jewish friends from college) Sari. I had no idea what to wear. Being the fashion guru in my life, she told me that nice pants and a top should suffice but that a skirt or a dress might be more appropriate. Considering I rarely wear anything but Lululemon workout clothes, I freaked out. Thankfully, I found a cute floor-length skirt from LF sitting crumpled on my closet floor and paired it with a temple-friendly shirt and sweater. I was saved.

After informing Michael about our night (note: even though he converted FROM Judasim to be Catholic, he was psyched) we headed to Temple Sinai on Atlantic Avenue to start our adventure.

The whole idea for this night of religious service began while I was sitting in my Jewish conversion class on Thursday night. I realized that I was about halfway through the class but had never been to a Friday night service, which my hysterical teacher, Sid, references at least a dozen times during each lesson. Plus, I am trying to finish up and become a Jew-by-choice sooner than later so I thought it would serve me well to show my face on a Friday night.

It did.

As soon as Michael and I walked into the temple, we were swarmed. I’m not sure if it was because I knew a few of the people from our joint conversion/B’nai Mitvah class or if it was because we were at least 30 years younger than everyone else and they could smell our young blood. Seriously, the average age in the room was about 75 and a half a dozen people had walkers. We were clearly the fresh faces in the crowd, both figuratively and literally. Either way, a nice woman named Susan from my class – whose husband was the Temple treasurer, naturally – grabbed Michael and I and told us to come sit with her. In the 3rd row. Eek.

Since we had arrived over 15 minutes early, there was ample time before the Rabbi stepped onto the bima. And in this time, about 10 different people came up to us and introduced themselves. Every single one was from New York. Others just stared, sizing us up. I kind of felt like a caged animal at the zoo, or the new installation at a museum. Everyone was intrigued by our presence. I was thrilled that I had gone with the skirt.

Once the service began, things settled down and we started to blend. Susan was eager to help us follow along and kept turning the pages in Michael’s prayer book and pointing out which reading we were on, while I smiled at the Rabbi, hoping to make eye contact. I wanted to get proper credit for showing up. Plus, he’s really funny.

In fact, Rabbi Kanter was one of the main reasons I chose to go through my conversion program at Temple Sinai as opposed to the many others in Boca or Delray. First of all, he is gay. With a partner and two kids. Not to get all politcal, but one of my major gripes with Catholicism is their exclusion of the gay community. I fancy myself a liberal and went searching for a very relaxed Reform temple when I decided to finally take the plunge to be a Chosen One. I figured a synagogue with a gay Rabbi was probably pretty accepting.

So I sat through the 90-minute Shabbat, mostly lost as Hebrew readings were recited.  But I remembered a few from class  like the Sh’ma and Mishebeirach. Plus, I was excited for my new community. Michael and I stayed for the oneg afterwards (it was sponsored by the Temple Sinai Sisterhood; Jews love to sponsor things at temple – it’s hysterical!) and each had a little shot of Kosher wine. Mazel tov! I spoke to the Rabbi for a few minutes and mingled with my conversion class cronies while munching challah. When we walked out to leave, a few more random people smiled and came over to wish us a good night and thank us for coming. We felt so loved. It had been a totally new experience and it was different and exciting. For real.

But the challah hadn’t really done it for us so we headed off to Houston’s for a seared tuna salad, surrounded by twenty-somethings from Boca, and were back in our world again…