Why I Love My ‘Hood

I have always lived in mostly Jewish neighborhoods. To be exact, religious Jewish neighborhoods, walk to shul Jewish neighborhoods, and kosher butcher shop Jewish neighborhoods. I live there, not because I am incredibly religious, but because I like living among Jews. 

I like seeing Jews walking the streets. I like seeing pictures of rabbis in store windows. I like seeing new shuls popping up and peeking in to see people praying. I like seeing women in supermarkets wearing sheitels which I can spot a mile away.  And I like living where it’s not a rarity to see men in kippahs wearing tallisim.

I like seeing people that seem to fear God. I like seeing Jews in outdoor cafes. I like waiting online behind Jewish husbands in bagel shops while they are on the phone checking with their wives as to what kind of bagels to bring home. I like hearing the words tatala and nisht.  I like names like Shlomo, Chava and Moshe. 

I really like my neighborhood because you still see families of five or more. I like seeing five young girls all in identical dresses. That reminds me of the Von Trapp kids from “The Sound of Music.” I like seeing a two-year-old with tzitzit hanging out. If you are in my neighborhood and it is four minutes before Shabbos, be careful crossing the street because an old beat-up station wagon with bald tires driven by a man with a long beard and kippah that’s almost hanging off his left ear might come screeching around the corner at 60 miles an hour trying to beat the Shabbos clock. 

On any given day, my neighborhood almost feels like I’m in the holy land. It’s a wonderful feeling. Plus, look at all the airfare I save. I like flying on planes with four hundred other Jews except when they wake me to pray.  

Truth be told, the older I get, the more I like Jews. You might say I love Jews. Not all Jews but an awful lot of them. I say most because how can I like Ben and Jerry? Nobody likes all of anything. Do you like every item in a bakery?  I don’t. 

When my kids were little, we lived in San Antonio, Texas for two years. We lived in a very non-Jewish neighborhood. Our Christmas manger was two doctors and three lawyers. But the people in our area were kind to us. When walking to shul, donning our Shabbos best, our neighbors would greet us with a big hello, even stop mowing their lawns to wish us a good Shabbos. Shul was a five-minute walk if we crossed a creek. Some months the creek water rose to over two feet. We wore high rubber boots to protect our shoes and clothes and to protect us from rattler bites. Not easy getting a Jewish woman to walk through rattlesnake infested water. Texas was great and the people amazing, but it was not a Jewish neighborhood. So, for me, something was missing.  

I love living where people are not afraid of openly showing that they are Jewish. I love seeing people I know doing mitzvahs.  When I walk my neighborhood, I feel a rush of gratitude that I don’t feel in other neighborhoods.

With the uptick of antisemitism, I love my neighborhood and the Jewish people even more. I love living where people are not afraid of openly showing that they are Jewish. I love seeing people I know doing mitzvahs.  When I walk my neighborhood, I feel a rush of gratitude that I don’t feel in other neighborhoods. In truth, I love seeing devotees of all religions. If they respect me, I certainly will respect them. But Jews get who I am at my core. To me that is a very comforting feeling in a very unsettling world.

So here we are living in the Pico Robertson area of Los Angeles. A neighborhood where you pay lots of money for a tiny house so you can be near other Jews. But where else except a Jewish neighborhood can you walk to the corner and get a freshly baked kosher rye or homemade shakshuka? Or on a Friday afternoon, get a phone call from my neighbor Aaron asking if I want to walk with him to shul? Where? Where else but in a Jewish neighborhood.  If I’m not going to move to Israel, this is the next best thing. Shalom.

Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer.