Act 1: Beginning the Soul Journey: Intro to Judaism course…
For all that is still wrong with our world, here’s what I love about 2026: I am beginning to learn about Judaism in a temple which is actually a cozy, repurposed house, alongside a group of humans who are diverse in every possible way, all taught by a female rabbi with indisputable Janis Joplin vibes, who lead the entirety of our first class with a costume dreidel hat upon her head as if she was a beautiful frosted blue cake topper (when we were particularly mind-blown by something God would say or do, she’d pop it off her head in a mock-revelatory explosion before replacing it promptly - a live-action exclamation point). No one made fun of me for not having ever read a religious text before. No one doubted any one else’s right to be there. And in a sacred space, nothing was too sacred - all questions were welcomed in the true spirit of the Jewish right to curiosity, to expression of dissent.
Any discomfort I thought I might feel was evaporated by this wonderfully theatrical, warm, charismatic teacher. And I found that reading Exodus felt exactly like cracking open a Shakespeare play. Who is the author, really? Which publisher is responsible for these footnotes and particular translation - do they have an agenda? This is the word that was used, but what are the dozens of meanings beneath it? How does it feel, not just what does it mean? And, oh, the drama! God descending in a cloud with thunder and lightening? Move over, “exit pursued by bear”! Having spent most of my life feeling like a bible or a torah was off-limits to me, I suddenly felt lit up like I do in any good text class. I loved how murky the stories were, how problematic, how open to interpretation and meditation and thought. I felt like I was taking the first bite of a feast that will never deplete.
Of course, I’ve intentionally sought out an open space, and even a creative one - this temple is connected to a beautiful, black box theater in which their shabbat services are held. But it’s the perfect space for me to begin and to learn without pressure to adhere to any outcomes. I had a friend who asked me if I “suddenly believe in God now,” since I am taking this course. I found this funny, and almost random to the task of learning about Judaism. Unlike some forms of religion, my understanding is that blind faith is not required for me to begin studying. And maybe it’s because I’m so trained as an actor in the art of suspending disbelief, but I have no resistance to learning, trying, even praying. Having spent so long feeling (at times, begrudgingly) like my parents made faith and religion off-limits, a new sense of gratitude is blooming: what a privilege I’ve been given to come to all this on my own terms, in my own time.
Act 2: Attending my first ever Shabbat service…
Shabbat with Nashuva, as I ended up being told several times throughout the night, is a little different. To start, it’s open to all - no ticket, no membership, no formality required. The only request is that attendees try and wear white to honor the Sabbath. As you may have guessed, this open invitation was part of the reason I chose this specific service to attend. But another reason was the rabbi - Rabbit Naomi Levy. I had picked up one of her books, Einstein and the Soul, in the library bookshop in my hometown when I was visiting my parents over the summer. Her writing on the soul appealed to me (as did the connection to Einstein - my dad was a mathematical physicist at one point, and it soothes me to find connection to him in a religious context as well), and I was thrilled to find she also lives and works in Los Angeles. And the final reason is that I heard rumors that the Shabbat band at Nashuva absolutely kills.
The wearing of white was particularly useful to me as I walked towards the service, realizing I had no idea where to go or what to do upon arrival. Being unprepared for situations usually paralyzes me. Fortunately, the stress-inducing process of traffic and parking in LA prevented me from thinking of the implications of actually making it to my destination until I had already arrived. As I got closer to the church (yes, church - shared worship space!), I fell in-step with three other people all wearing white. When I confessed that this was not only my first time at Nashuva, but my first Shabbat service ever, they kindly took me under their wing. One of them told me he became a musician after being inspired by the guitarists I was about to see onstage. Another ended up being the mentor for the bassist. I began to wonder: is this a service, or a rock concert?
The pews we filed into had Nashuva prayer books placed on them, written with Hebrew on one side and an English translation on the other. I had an urge to steal one and place it in my handbag for further study, but thought better of it - first impressions and all that. I looked towards the “stage,” as it were, and saw: an electric guitarist, a bassist, a guitarist/vocalist, a violinist, a pianist, a drummer sat behind a fully fledged drum kit with protective sound barrier, and a rabbi. Let’s freaking go.
I don’t know if this was just a quintessentially LA experience, but, between prayers set to Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah,” electric guitar riffs worthy of an arena concert, and a reggae/rap portion which included dancing in the aisles, I felt distinctly allowed to jam to the holy presence. Words were projected on a screen above the band, so I tried to pick up as best I could. A wonderful family in front of me came to my learning rescue, whispering what each song meant and why it mattered in a religious context. Not that there was a need to whisper - the drums were ample cover.
I love to sing and dance, so I thought this would be the best part of the evening. But I adored the sermon - it was about being blessed “in all ways,” and how we can carry this gratitude into the daily toil of our lives - and have thought about it often in the week since. And my favorite moment of all was when the lights were lowered and we all just breathed together in several moments of guided group meditation. Not since a rehearsal room for a play have a closed my eyes and just inspired and expired with a community joined together in a common purpose. I loved being part of the big “whoosh” of exhale and release, and clearing our hearts and minds to welcome the Sabbath.
Act 3: My Hanukkah Barbie arrived…
And she gets her own journal post. Read on…