When asked about my Jewish upbringing, I tell a story that many can’t.

My hometown synagogue is large; but my community within is the small, congregant-led Traditional Egalitarian Minyan — with our own set of tunes and prayer orders and social events. My family became known for our yearly spread of bagels, lox (smoked salmon) and Jewish desserts at our Yom Kippur breakfast. 

The Minyan is a second home — and family — for me and the childhood friends I made there. We still text in a group chat named “Chai Five.” 

As I prepared to leave for USC in 2022, I thought about how I was going to keep traditions without my Minyan. I researched organizations and mentally bookmarked Canter’s Deli when my dad took me during a visit to USC. I knew my options, but I was still nervous. When I found out that one of the Chai Five, Sammy, would be joining me at USC, I shed some tears of relief. 

I knew college would be different. In fact, that was my expectation. But I didn’t realize how different. Sammy and I tried our best to attend Friday night services at USC, but it felt like reverse Goldilocks — we’d already found our “just right” back home. 

In one place, services were too short. Too much was in English and the tunes were different. At dinner, we realized that for each of the 15 people who attended services, 15 more showed up just for the food — and more so, the wine. I know people observe in their own ways. I wasn’t going to diss them for showing up only for the food, but it felt fake.

At another place, services were entirely opposite. The men and women sat separately and I couldn’t hear the Rabbi from my seat. The tunes were different and I again felt like a fish out of water.

The crowd again quadrupled in size for dinner and wine … but mostly for the wine. 

I told myself I was being unfair, judging these spaces based on one try; so I went again to give it a second chance, and brought my boyfriend for comfort.

Reader, it was worse. 

Yet again, the crowd ballooned for dinner. Tables begged each other for more wine. I spotted several non-Jews, which wasn’t an issue until one of them showed up in cosplay of the character Jinx from League of Legends. 

Cosplay. At Shabbat dinner. Infuriating. 

We left early and I spent an hour telling him about the Minyan, and how artificial this Jewish life felt. I was lost, detached from my community back home. 

A disclaimer: I don’t mean to diss the Jewish community at USC. I have friends who love the spaces here very much. I myself participated in some events that I enjoyed. But by and large, overall Jewish life here just feels … plastic. And adjusting was not easy.

On Rosh Hashanah, I got up early to attend services; but instead of joining my classmates I sat in my room — alone — and livestreamed them from my synagogue. On Yom Kippur, our holiest day, I didn’t attend services at all. I spent most of the day mourning my family’s breakfast. 

I left a seder early because the rap blaring from the frat house next door snapped me out of any notion I had of a genuine Passover celebration; and I cried when I had to buy my own parsley at Trader Joe’s that night to dip it in my own saltwater, which ironically represents the tears of the enslaved Jewish people.

And to add insult to injury, SoCal is not known for its bagels. 

But the tide had begun to turn around Yom Kippur, when my boyfriend brought me to Mercado Buenos Aires to show me how he’d found his culture here. Instead of bagels and lox, I broke fast with a choripán. I began a new tradition of exchanging cultures with new friends. I was making Judaism my own, leaving the nest that the Minyan had made for me. 

Since then, I’ve learned that I don’t have to mourn the Minyan. I can take their values and traditions and mold them into my new experiences. My boyfriend and I found okay bagels and take frequent trips to Canter’s, ordering matzo brei from them when I felt helpless during Passover. 

I learned that my friends are fascinated with my upbringing and will take part in what I thought they might find silly; the memory of my non-Jewish friends nearly becoming addicted to lox after trying it comes to mind. And maybe that moment back in the mercado is when I began to realize:

When life gives you lemons, make your own bagels.

“Editors’ Epilogue” is a rotating column featuring a new Daily Trojan editor in each installment and their personal experiences of living in what seems to be an irrepressible dumpster fire of a world. Jennifer Nehrer is a sophomore studying journalism and is a news editor at the Daily Trojan.