Clever Magazine,Spring 2007 " A rabbi and a Priest... " (www.clevermag.com)

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A Rabbi and a Priest
Walk into a Casino

by Rabbi Julie Pelc

Julie Pelc was recently ordained a rabbi by the Hebrew Union College - Jewish Institute of Religion in Los Angeles. She lives in Venice, California with her sweet dog, Sammy, where she works as a "freelance rabbi". Her writing has previously been published by Spirituality and Health, Lilth, Jewish Magazine, and CleverMag (January, 2006). She is the co-editor of the anthology, Joining the Sisterhood: Young Jewish Women Write Their Lives, published by SUNY Press in 2003.

“You are a sexy rabbi!” my 82 year old grandmother exclaims as she watches me get ready in the room we share at the Aladdin Hotel in Las Vegas. It is Saturday, and instead of dressing (modestly) for synagogue, on this Shabbat morning I select a red lace tank top. I smile, thinking: “finally – someone has noticed!” as I tuck the straps of my black bra into place under the red lace of my shirt. It is the weekend before Halloween: my grandmother’s first visit to Las Vegas . She wants to see as much as she can during our short weekend “on the strip” and so we venture outside, she is wearing a lavender sweater-set and I am in red lace.

Before we leave the hotel room, I place my Halloween costume atop my suitcase for easy access later in the evening. My grandmother seems giddy when I tell her of my costume: her granddaughter, the rabbi, will be dressing up as a priest later that evening.

At the costume shop earlier in the week, I’d created quite a scene. The salespeople whispered, and then laughed as they shared the news with one another and then any customer within earshot: she’s a rabbi, and she’s dressing up like a priest! One salesperson helped me to find a large golden cross to wear with the long, black, priestly robe, complete with its button-close white collar peeking through at the throat. I left the costume shop and called my grandmother, asking if she’d like to dress as a nun to accompany me in my religious adventure. She declined the invitation, but seemed pleased to live vicariously through my experience and offered to bring faux-satin yarmulkes in every hue in case my costume required a head-covering.

“If I find a red one, you can be a cardinal,” she offered.

I hoped she wouldn’t regret her decision not to dress up herself, as I assured her that the entire city would be in costume and she might feel left out.

After our morning seeing “ Venice ”, “ Paris ”, and “ Rome ”, we return to our hotel room to rest before changing clothes for the evening. As she snores in the double bed beside mine, I use the opportunity to write a sermon for the following Shabbat, when I will be preaching at a synagogue as the visiting rabbi.

Then I pull the red lace tank top over my head and replace it with my long, dress-like, priestly garb. The cross rests against my breasts awkwardly and I try in vain to readjust the length of the necklace. I pull my hair into a loose ponytail and wash the makeup from my face. My grandmother does not tell me that I am a sexy priest. We exit the hotel and walk several blocks without seeing another person in costume. I feel the passersby staring, and then looking away. Am I paranoid? Are they scowling at me? As we continue down the strip I realize that almost no one is in costume. I start making jokes with others in the crosswalk,

“Hey, anyone need to confess?” Then, I see a group of young women (future bridesmaids?) circled around a friend wearing a bridal veil. I ask the bride-to-be whether she and the groom have need for clergy tonight. I begin to tell random people that God loves them. When one man stares at me for an especially long time and seems utterly confused, I say,

“Hey, it’s Halloween weekend, you’re the one who should be embarrassed!”

People laugh when I acknowledge the awkwardness aloud, but still there are scores of stares as we walk on. I am puzzled: are people looking at me strangely because they’re religious and they think my costume is blasphemy, or is it because they’re not religious and they’re worried I’m judging them for being in the City of Sin, or is it because I’m a woman and they think women can’t or shouldn’t be priests? Or is it just strange that I’m actually in costume when no one else seems to have noticed that Halloween is days away?

I feel like I’m wearing my insides on the outside for perhaps the first time in my life. As a liberal woman rabbi, there are no visible markings of my profession on my body as I walk through the world. Is this how Jews wearing yarmulkes in public feel all the time? If people knew that I was a rabbi immediately upon seeing me, would they stare at me strangely as I walked through the street at home, too?

I tell my grandmother that I’ll certainly use the priest costume again – perhaps for Purim. I joke that I can wear a Jewish star and a Muslim head covering with the robe next time and dress as an interfaith dialogue.

We soon see another costume: two guys dressed as pious Jews with long beards and curled ringlet paos hanging beside their ears.

“Hey, holy people!” I shout to them as they walk through the casino. I hold up my giant cross to them in greeting and in recognition. We wave to one another. I don’t have time to tell them that I, in fact, am a rabbi. I go to the bar and order a drink.

God, help me to be the person my dog thinks I am.