On Making New (Jewish) Friends and The Mitzvah of Hospitality

One of the great things about moving back to the East Coast is that Steve and I have more friends here. In San Francisco we knew a few people to begin with–friends from college and high school–but the twenty something population in the City by the Bay is mostly transient. In truth, we met approximately three people who were actually from SF, and the others wound up there for a year, or two, or ten.

We made new friends, of course, through the people we already knew and through work and grad school. The majority of new people we met, though, remained merely acquaintances.

It’s possible that the phenomenon of which I speak is limited to the Bay Area, (I have not done a scientific experiment on the subject) but the blog-turned-book, MWF seeking BFF, suggests this is not uncommon.  Indeed, of all the friends and colleagues Steve and I have, I can think of exactly one person who seems to, and would probably admit to having, an easy time of making new and real, lasting friendships these days.

He works for Facebook.

It’s a not-often-talked-about truth of adulthood that for most of us it’s really tough to meet new people and establish real friendships out in the so-called real world. It’s as if without the safety net of a college campus, dorm or dining hall, people stick to who they know and keep to themselves.

These days people are busy. People seem to already have (enough) friends. There are a few people Steve and I see occasionally in New York who we wish we knew better and saw more often. But how? How does one make the leap into friendship now?

I’ve mentioned before that  I have some pretty fantastic new colleagues here in New York, for which I am supremely grateful. Another seldom mentioned fact of adulthood is that it’s exceedingly rare to work with a group of people you genuinely like and could imagine being friends with outside of work. I am lucky.

One of the criteria as we searched for a rabbi and a synagogue with which and at which to convert, was that we could make new friends. When the stand-in for Rabbi C told us that many of the “Exploring Judaism” students become friends with one another, I was sold. I was onboard and ready to sign up. Steve and I were hoping the other people in the class would be cool and that we could all bond and become friends over the course of the six months of weekly classes. That is to say, we hoped this would be one of those rare opportunities in adult life to meet similar-minded people (Jewish or converting, educated, progressive), who were in similar stages in life (same age range, engaged), and the proximity of weekly classes would make us instant friends.

The above has more or less materialized in that the class is mostly made up of couples in their 20s and 30s who are engaged (or engaged to be engaged), educated, and cool (as far as we can tell). Put simply: Steve and I have a few friend crushes going on.

We don’t have assigned seats in the class, be we all typically sit in the same seats each week. Steve and I usually sit in one of the corners of a U-shaped table configuration, near a few people whom we really, really like. They’re in their late 20s/early 30s and are outgoing, like sports, TV shows, and (at least semi) inappropriate jokes. I can’t even stand how cool they seem! We’re friend-crushing on them in a serious way. Then, around the room there are about two or three other couples we don’t know well enough to have crushes on, per se, but from what we can tell from afar they’d make good friends, too.

If only we knew how to make these would-be friendships happen.

If only we had an apartment where we could invite these couples over for dinner. If only we had a dining table (or a living room that was separate from the bedroom). Currently we live in a tiny studio sublet (with Myles the cat) and a dinner party would literally entail inviting people to come over and sit on our bed, plates in their laps. Not a good first impression to make with our fabulous future friends!

For weeks Steve and I have been talking about how we can “ask out” these potential new friends. By the way, the fact that I have to use language typically reserved for the dating scene is just an example of how little people actually talk about their adult friendship woes. Thankfully, our “Exploring Judaism” class had a built-in opportunity.

Enter: The Class Shabbat.

We recently met as a class to attend Friday night Shabbat services together. We sat together with Rabbi C, read and sang the prayers, stood to face Jerusalem together as a class and with the congregation. Afterwards, our class met in the synagogue’s event space for a catered dinner. At a long rectangular table we did the blessings over the candles, challah, and wine and dined.

Before the event, I told one of my colleagues about our making-new-friends-dilemma. He confessed that he and his wife have the same ongoing problem.  He and his wife have been seeing a few of the same couples at dinner parties hosted by various friends over the last couple years. “Every time we see them, we talk and have a good time with them,” he said. “My wife and I kept saying to each other that we wished we could make plans to hang out with these people more often.”  Finally he said he’d worked up the courage to ask one couple for their cell phone numbers so that they could all hang out sometime. “It was so awkward!” he said, cringing at the memory.

This, coming from someone who has no qualms asking alumni for million-dollar gifts.

It’s tough out there, folks!  It’s painfully awkward to ask someone you don’t know very well for their cell phone number. Am I right? I’m right.

As our class Shabbat dinner progressed, we learned where people lived, where people had gone to college, where they’d grown up, what they did for a living, and what TV shows they favored. We learned who was a Republican, who knew people in common from their Upper East Side upbringings, and who was getting married when.

I should also mention that Steve and I plotted (yes, plotted) beforehand how we were going to finagle seats at dinner near our friend crushes. We purposefully tried to position ourselves next to one couple in particular. I kid you not. A tad creepy and excessive? Maybe. But, it worked. I’m joking. Kinda.

As the dinner waned, one of our classmates suggested we all go out for a drink. Five couples, including us, agreed.  Together we wandered two blocks until we happened upon The Pig ‘n’ Whistle, a Midtown dive-bar with music blaring so loudly we could barely hear one another. I do not recommend it. Seriously. Do not go there. It was full of single guys grabbing a drink after work and much older women. There was a terrible DJ (who, to be fair, became much less terrible when Steve asked him to spin “Africa” by Toto and then did a pretty good mash-up version of the song).

We screamed over the music in an attempt to talk to one another and strained to listen to what each other was saying.

In the course of the couple hours we were there, we learned how everyone met: one couple met in college, another met at work, one couple met at a bar while one of them had been engaged to someone else (and subsequently called off the wedding in order to date this new person!), another met almost immediately following the break-up of a prior seven year relationship. I told them our love story.

We talked about what had brought us to this synagogue and Rabbi C. We talked about sports and movies. It didn’t take long for us to gossip about the classmates who weren’t there with us. Who we like, whose comments we think are sometimes over-the-top, and who we sort of can’t stand. Eventually our conversation turned to our classmate, Jesus.

Jesus, we’d all concluded, is an amazing member of our class. It’s clear from the comments he makes and the seriousness with which he is pursuing the class and outside study that he is on a deeply personal spiritual journey at this moment in his life. I say this with all sincerity and don’t mean this is a mocking way at all. Then, one of our classmates who had been sitting near Jesus at the Shabbat dinner told us he’d announced he was going to study to become a rabbi following his conversion to Judaism. Rabbi Jesus. You heard it hear first. I respect him immensely.

Our continual dilemma about how to make new friends in New York and how to transition from being classmates to compadres for some reason reminds me of the mitzvah of hospitality in Judaism. Community is at the core of Judaism and it’s commanded that Jews be welcoming towards others in the community, and to treat guests–even strangers–with kindness or like family.

Even the classroom we use for each of our “Exploring Judaism” classes is set up in a thoughtfully welcoming way. Rabbi C recently told us she specifically asks the maintenance staff to rearrange the tables so that when one walks into the room, they are greeted by the teacher’s face, and not their back. Snacks and drinks are arranged on a table near the door and we can help ourselves each time we meet. The door is always propped open for the duration of the class so that a student who is late to class, or is just visiting, is not faced with a closed door.  

At a Jewish wedding, a couple stands under a chuppah, which symbolizes the Jewish home the couple will create together. And, the chuppah is open on all four sides to represent hospitality to one’s guests.

Steve has often told me about how he and his family spent the afternoons of Shabbat at the homes of fellow synagogue congregants, or hosted people at their own home. It’s a mitzvah to welcome people into one’s home on Shabbat or any of the Jewish holidays (Passover and Sukkot, in particular); it’s encouraged to feed and shelter others. Inviting friends and newcomers to one’s home also increases one’s own joy. Faced with periods of persecution, this mitzvah has also aided in the survival of the Jewish people throughout history.

However, modern life, and certainly life in New York City, doesn’t always condone or encourage hospitality.

Now that we’ve been out together outside of class once, we want to firm up these budding (Jewish) friendships. Seal the deal. Fulfill the mitzvah. Since the class Shabbat, the group has gotten even more friendly with one another and people are much more relaxed and speak more freely in class. Which, of course, begs the question: Why aren’t these people inviting us over to their apartments? Are they nervous, or do they just not like us? What’s wrong with us? 

With any luck, one of these couples will invite us over. Or, we’ll muster the courage to ask one of them to meet us out for dinner. The remaining months of “Exploring Judaism” could be the beginning of some beautiful friendships.

If nothing else, we’ll always have The Pig ‘n’ Whistle.

***

How do you make friends? And, I’m a little embarrassed to ask, but any suggestions out there for becoming friends with our “Exploring Judaism” classmates given our living constraints?

{Image credit: New Yorker cartoon “Hey, you! Wanna be my best friend?” by Jack Ziegler. Published February 7, 2005}