Rockin’ My Kippah

Someone once asked how my skullcap stays put on my head. I jokingly replied, “Peer pressure.” Wearing a yarmulke, otherwise known as a skullcap or kippah, 24/7 is something I said I would never do. At that point in my life I had no interest in being identified as a Jew everywhere I went. While I was proud to divulge my Jewish identity, to be singled out or even targeted before someone even knew my name … no way! 

All that changed when I discovered a community in L.A. where I could celebrate Judaism on a full-time basis. Upon moving to Pico-Robertson, our incredible shtetl in the middle of town, I was surrounded by skullcap-festooned men of all stripes. Not that I took on the custom to fit in; now I had living examples of guys who were proud of their heritage and ready to take on whatever challenges the rabbis sent their way. I was learning to perceive the world through spiritual lenses and for the first time, I discerned the “Yids with the lids” were the real players.

A kippah serves as a constant reminder that we are in a battle to make good choices, with our internal qualities matching our outside appearances. We have to maintain “balance” to keep it on our head, literally and figuratively.

Wearing this six-inch circle on my head has fringe benefits. It serves as a unique conversation starter. I can’t go long without someone approaching me and “outing” himself as a member of the tribe, often telling me about every Jewish experience since childhood. I patiently field rounds of “20 questions” by Jew-loving gentiles. I get grabbed for a minyan in places like the airport, Disneyland and movie theaters. Germans have apologized for their people’s actions during the Holocaust. Just after October 7 a tall African-American stranger said, “I’m guessing you could use a hug.” Some folks are reverent; some stare. Most importantly, a yarmulke forces full-time menschy behavior. God forbid someone see a Jew cut in line, utter a curse word or order treif food. I even drive more nicely now. Tempting as it may be, I can’t flip someone off and risk desecrating God’s name when it’s obvious I’m Jewish. A kippah serves as a constant reminder that we are in a battle to make good choices, with our internal qualities matching our outside appearances. We have to maintain “balance” to keep it on our head, literally and figuratively. Just like we put on a sharp suit for an interview and feel like a million bucks, a kippah can make us feel like God’s most trusted teammate.

The origins of the kippah are ancient and convoluted. I remember learning that Jews adopted the custom from Roman slaves because they, too, were demonstrating servitude to a Master. According to Rambam, one must wear a head covering when praying, but he doesn’t mention a full-time requirement. By the 17th century, it became halachically mandated as a way to distinguish Jews from non-Jews and to serve as a Kiddush Hashem, bringing honor to God’s name. Americans may be armchair quarterbacks during this Mideast disaster, but in the spiritual realm, small gestures like a wearing a kippah get us on the playing field.

In the past, I’ve never pushed wearing a kippah on anyone but my children. These days, I’m becoming more vocal in my advocacy. According to David Suissa, “October 7th is a day that shattered nuance.” There is no more hiding, no playing both sides, no blending in. Over the past decades, world Jewry has been increasingly vilified both on the right and the left. Most of us choose the middle ground, playing it safe both online and off. Now the raw emotions generated by this massacre have made advocates of even those whose primary observance is eating lox and bagels. As long as we’re being outed by society at large, why not go big? Being conspicuous defuses the situation and creates connections with both Jews and gentiles. It’s harder to hate when one has personal interaction with the hated. There are plenty of ways to show your pride: Jewish stars or Chai jewelry, Jewish-themed t-shirts, Tzitzit — all good. 

When our local Israel Consul General, Israel Bachar, was asked if it’s a good idea to hide our necklaces and take down mezuzot, he responded, “It’s the opposite. Jews are not running from anyone anymore. We’re not hiding; we’re fighting. We’re not apologizing, we’re celebrating who we are.”

Our daily prayers remind us that we were miraculously redeemed from Egypt and are still awaiting the final redemption. Our sages tell us that this redemption is contingent upon our unity. We haven’t been this united in decades; let’s seize the day! I wonder about the present state of the Jewish People: Do we merit delivery from our extended sojourn in the Diaspora? Do we deserve to be rescued from worldwide terrorism, from the renewed threat from the Persian Empire, from a vicious antisemitism that refuses to slumber? How long will we live in comfort in the US when nearly as many of our brightest collegiate youth support Hamas as they do Israel? The Midrash answers this question: We were saved from Egypt for several reasons, namely, we didn’t completely assimilate into their hedonistic culture and maintained our Hebrew names, language and clothing. With this in mind, I have appointed a few friends to call me Shmuel to keep my soul name alive. I work on my Hebrew, both Biblical and Modern, so I can navigate our texts in the original tongue and attempt conversations with Israelis. Lastly, wherever I wander, I fly my kippah and tzitzit proudly for all to see. Am Yisrael Chai!

Sam Glaser is a performer, composer, producer and author in Los Angeles. His 26 bestselling Jewish albums include: “The Songs We Sing,” “The Promise,” “Hineni,”  “A Day in the Life,”  “Across the River” and “Kol Bamidbar.” Visit him online at www.samglaser.com.