I’m not going to be around much this week due to that crazy deadline thing that happens every month, but I must share the following tidbit from Friday night’s Tot Shabbat service:
In what I know to be a well-intended effort to connect with the youngest members of our synagogue, the rabbi announced that there would be a Hebrew baby naming for the children’s Webkinz at the next Tot Shabbat. (For those of you blessed with ignorance, Webkinz are stuffed toys that have their own online identities that allow their young owners to waste loads of time on the computer, kind of like a Beanie Baby version of porn.)
While I marvel at the rabbi’s willingness to reach out to the kids and keep it modern, this conflicts with my own belief that synagogue needs to be a respite from the massive wave of materialism I fiercely defend my family against, especially that category known in our home by its scientific term, Cheap Sh*t From China. But thanks to our friends with whom we always spend Christmas Eve, El Yenta Boy has a Webkin. In fact, Santa brought it. So now my child is having existential angst as to whether his fluffy piece of crap manufactured by underpaid peasants is Jewish or not.
I started stewing in my pew a little bit as I am wont to do when self-righteousness gets the better of me, but I had to let it go when a little boy piped up from the back:
“Is there going to be a bris, too?”
It’s just a funny world, people.