Hat Tricks from a Jewish “Ambassador”

I try to be a good ambassador for Judaism out in the world, but wearing my religion on my sleeve (or my head, or on my plate) gets tricky. Years ago, I was invited to speak at the Erma Bombeck Writers Conference at the University of Dayton. Friday night before the program began, at a dinner for conference speakers and VIPs, I’d also been asked to say a few words about how Erma’s work had influenced me. I had short, amusing remarks locked and loaded, but there was a microphone at the podium–which I couldn’t use on Shabbat. What would I do when they called my name? Thankfully, as I was called divine inspiration tapped me on the shoulder. 

As the speakers before me had done, I first walked behind the podium and positioned myself at the microphone. I waited two seconds, looked at the audience and shrugged before walking around to stand in front of the podium. “I’ve got four teenagers at home,” I said with an exaggerated sigh and gesturing helplessly. “I don’t need a microphone.” The audience laughed and I was home free. Thank you, God! I said silently.      

The next night, I faced my most embarrassing situation as a kosher traveler among non-Jews. At a banquet for all three hundred and fifty attendees, I talked shop with congenial table mates who were all enjoying their treyf dinners of warm rolls, baked chicken, whipped potatoes, and green beans almondine. Meanwhile, I was summoning all my bicep and tricep strength to hack my way through the building-grade layers of aluminum foil and thick plastic wrap protecting the kosher meal ordered for me. (For some reason, my kosher meal on Friday night didn’t require Herculean strength to unwrap.) The caterer had provided feeble plastic cutlery when I needed a machete. Some guests stole furtive, sympathetic glances my way as the waiter hovered, trying to pour nonkosher wine into the wineglass I shielded with my hand. Clearly, I looked like I needed a drink. Probably two.   

This never would have happened in L.A. or any other more sophisticated Jewish community. I embrace my religious identity and hate for people to think that Jewish living — including keeping kosher — is such a burden, because it wasn’t. This was beyond cringeworthy — what had this caterer been smoking?    

When my tablemates were tucking into their dessert, God had mercy. I finally broke through the final layers of plastic. All eyes were now on my disposable plate to see what treasure had been revealed. My mortification deepened when I saw a bland-looking and shockingly small portion of salad, chicken, rice with peas, and roasted summer squash. I thought of the old joke about a Jew complaining bitterly about a bad meal he was served in a restaurant, and then adding, “And such small portions, too!” 

Fortunately, everyone was quickly distracted by the keynote speaker, Dave Barry, who had God-like status in this audience. I couldn’t help but notice, though, that only two people among the 350 of us wore any sort of hat. I was one of them, in a stylish Israeli-designed beret embroidered all around with tiny silver beads. The other woman covered her head with a duck hat nearly the size of a chimney. Logically, our hats did not belong to the same species of headwear. Irrationally, though, I feared that the ridiculousness of her hat might somehow taint my head covering worn as a sign of Jewish observance.  

As a volunteer ambassador for Judaism, I’m prepared not only to wear different hats but also to face down awkward situations along the way.

Barry couldn’t resist and asked the woman where she got her hat so that he could get one, too. I held my breath for a moment: would she feel insulted? But Barry was brilliant, his tone deftly blending kindness with a touch of disbelief. The duck hat wearer beamed with delight — with his clever attention, Barry had made her feel honored.  

In the end, I couldn’t help it if my tablemates thought keeping kosher was nuts, but at least my hats did me proud. A writer I admired complimented me on a mauve beret, which led to her endorsing my next book. As a volunteer ambassador for Judaism, I’m prepared not only to wear different hats but also to face down awkward situations along the way.

Judy Gruen’s most recent book is “The Skeptic and the Rabbi: Falling in Love With Faith.”