Pretty please, with a kosher (or not) maraschino cherry on top, grant me forgiveness…
For the sin I have committed against You by overdoing the Jew-ish joke around Christian friends.
And for engaging in idolatry by worshipping Channing Tatum.
For not plugging the earphones all the way into the iPhone headphone jack and blasting Christmas music at the JCC gym, at which point the aging Jewish exercisers couldn’t help themselves from breaking out into an “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” flash mob.
And for knowing the word intermarriage.
For only going to shul on the Shabbats when oneg was sponsored by the couple that inherited the babka empire.
And for not representing the Jewish people very well when Connor said, “You don’t look Jewish at all” in a proud voice that showed he intended it as a compliment, and then that coffee table accidentally fell right on his foot and squashed the self-important smile off his face.
For mixing up prayers like Kaddish and Kiddush à la Angels in America.
And for not referencing Seinfeld every twelve seconds.
For claiming religious observance in order to upgrade from the meal of rat feet to the much more edible kosher meal on British Airways.
And for warding off catcalls by shouting in rapid-fire Aramaic.
For eating Jesus when Religious Studies 101 required a visit to a religious institution.
And for telling overeager, over-Jewishly-curious Astrid that calling someone “schmuck” is a form of endearment, thus ruining her Valentine’s Day with her NJB (Nice Jewish Boy).
For ordering from a Jewish bakery on Seamless when it’s well-known that the recipe for rugelach is in every Jew’s genetic makeup.
And for knowing the word shellfish.
For volunteering to usher the megillah reading and loudly greeting each congregant with “Hey, man!” pronounced like “Haman,” forcing the entire angry congregation to break their groggers from overuse.
And for noshing on Jesus when evangelical Beth extended an invitation to “Bring a Jew to Church Day.”
For dramatically falling onto the floor unconscious every time a family member makes gefilte fish.
And for knowing the words personal and space.
For kvetching about having to schlep across the city just to hear Ruth’s mother kvell over Ruth’s schnoz job.
And for eating Japanese food on Christmas.
For being Buddhist on Saturdays.
And for smashing a kugel in Devon’s face on his birthday and then running off with a shrug and gleeful shout of, “Jews can’t go to hell!”
For forgetting Lactaid on Shavuot and eating seventeen pieces of cheesecake anyway.
And for saving time by just writing “Ashkenazi” on the retreat’s medical form instead of lactose intolerant, celiac, nut-free, easily upset stomach, sensitive to citrus, allergic to soy, allergic to water, allergic to baseball caps, and with a severe phobia of voicemails.
For breaking the tie at an interfaith mixer by playing the “chosen people” card.
And for having the chutzpah to take yet another helping of Jesus on the way out to the 20s & 30s Jewish mixer (more babka).
For going to 20s & 30s Jewish events with no intention of actually procreating afterwards and thus risking the entire future of the Jewish people.
And for atoning for all of these sins by fasting…
…between bites.