HellaFrank

Another story from Yom Kippur that I thought I’d share is called the Jewish Beer Dilemma.

After services, my friend Chaya and I went to a friend’s house to waste away some hungry time. Flipping through the channels on TV, the best we could come up with was a Yankees rain delay and some really awful college football matchups (Cubs were on but no FREAKIN’ WGN!).

We settled on the best game we could find - Louisville vs. Syracuse. Riveting. Actually it wasn’t, and Chaya and I resorted to betting on trivial aspects of the game for a dollar each. Examples were “hey Chaya, this kickoff will be caught within the ten yard line, yes or no?” or “hey Jeremy, there will be a running play in the next three plays, yes or no?” Ridiculous. Gambling, essentially. Exactly the kind of activity us Jews are supposed to be doing on our day of repentance… Right.

We then left the house, Chaya up five bucks, and both of us starting to feel a little delirious — destination: Professor Thom’s for the Michigan football game. Then came the big dilemma…

As the game rolled into the third quarter, the bar became excessively hot and the bartender made an announcement that the A/C had shut down. It was uncomfortable but I was too hungry to move, so we stayed, surrounded by crispy amazing fried treats and massive nacho plates.

The bartender came to our table, apologized for the heat and in what seemed like slow motion, delicately placed a frosty, tall, glowing pitcher of beer on our table. Wow, exactly what I wanted at that specific point in time. Exactly. What ever was a young Jew like myself to do? On the one hand we are taught that Yom Kippur is the holiest holiday, fasting is very important and to respect the tradition. Couldn’t agree more. On the other hand, if we’re talking tradition, how many Jewish people’s parents, grandparents and probably great-grandparents would ever turn down a great deal like that?!?!? Yeah, that tradition goes pretty far back for all of us I think.

Well, Mom, I’m proud to say that I stared that pitcher square in the eyes and generously passed it along to the goyim sitting with us (besides, I think it was Bud Light).

In the back of my mind, I wished I could have watched this dilemma as an outsider, leaned over the Chaya and said: “Double or nothing Jeremy doesn’t cave and drink the beer.” Instead I bought him half of his meal later that night (see: Break-fast at Katz’s)