Judaism – Page 2 – Don't Gel Too Soon

Another Landmark in Jewish Life, Another Lesson Learned

When I first got involved in observant Judaism, I was appalled at a lot of what I saw. Without any background or knowledge I was ready to condemn rules from keeping kosher to circumcision to the bedecken in a marriage ceremony to Jewish education.

I’ve changed my mind about many things (though not all) but more important than any single issue is the larger lesson of this lengthy and complicated transition: you can’t judge anything until you really understand it. It’s so easy to laugh off a traditional life, modest clothing, 613 commandments (and I still struggle with many of them and remain, I know, ignorant of many others.) But as each rule and ritual is placed into context, its importance emerges, if you let it. Not for everything, certainly, but for more of this somewhat exotic existence than I ever expected.

Last night I went with friends to celebrate their son’s receipt of his first siddur – prayerbook. It is a remarkable event. In advance, parents come to school and decorate the books’ cover; the kids wear crowns with prayers on top, there’s a long performance full of the child’s version of many of the traditions and they dance and sing and tell us what they will contribute to the future. Parents and siblings and sleeping infants and grandparents are gathered to watch, in a balloon-decorated room with cupcakes and apple juice waiting in the back.

Of course, all this is a kind of indoctrination. But what I’ve realized is that I think any child rearing of merit imparts values as this ceremony does. In this case, the gift of prayer is celebrated, and being old enough to become, at least a bit, master of one’s own prayers is pretty cosmic. Most Orthodox ceremonies I’ve been part of celebrate this gift and the journey of our emerging relationships with God, each in our own way.

But as I remember taking my kids to marches, and boycotting Nestle, and raising them on Pete Seeger and the Weavers and politics all the time, well – that was a form of indoctrination too. And we were determined that they would receive the values that we thought most important, and be raised with a keen sense of right and wrong in political as well as personal terms. Now, of course, they’ve modified all that to suit themselves, as they should. But they had a set of values to push up against, as their father used to say. Instead of prayers, the signs in their school said “Each one, teach one” and every kid had a task to contribute to the community. Not so different, just not Godly.

I know that we are a secular nation, and that many American Jews live highly secular lives. I did too. But somehow, we found our way here. Tonight I’ll light Sabbath Candles and feel the quiet peace that comes with them. And I’ll be grateful not only for that but for the grace and love of the parents who invited me to share in their son’s celebration, and who have so often provoked me to think harder and struggle more to understand this life I’ve chosen. And have taught both of us so much. Believe me, I’m at least as surprised as you are by my reactions, but as long as that continues, I know I’m keeping faith with the name of this blog, along with the larger faith I seek.

Shabbat Shalom.

Visit This Jewish Blog Carnival – It’s Interesting

This carnival is fascinating – many sides of issues relating to Judaism, observant or secular Jewish life and, of course, Israel. It's pretty diverse, take a look and see what you think. Full disclosure: a post of mine is included.

ROSH HASHANAH ONE REDUX: ONE YEAR AGO

I’m posting this again, one year later, because the feelings remain and the holiday arrived last night. I’ve set the timer to post this during the holiday [That way I didn’t have to break the rules and post it during down time.] When you hear about things like the urgency of the bail out vote because of the Jewish Holiday of Rosh Hashanah – this is what they’re talking about.
September 12, 2007 A NEW YEAR, A 36th WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, A LOT TO THINK ABOUT

Tonight begins Rosh Hashanah – the New Year celebration that launches the holy season of the Days of Awe that continues until Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement. It’s also a huge day for me – in more than one way. Rick and I were married 36 years ago today.
On a boat on the Monongahela River. We’ve been through a lot – maybe
more than most couples – but we’ve hung on and we’re reaping the
rewards of a shared history. So to have this remarkable landmark fall
on the eve of a holy day of renewal is really something.

This is another anniversary, too. Our third living an observant
life. We first came here for Rosh Hashanah services 4 years ago, met our remarkable rabbi and began the journey that has led us to a new, moving, inspiring, frustrating, challenging, occasionally painful, sometimes completely uplifting life.
We share new feelings, new friends, new aspirations to goodness and a
sense of God, new challenges and inspirations. AND we’re still sharing
them with each other. That too is remarkable.

Now as we move toward observance of these days, toward prayers and
meals and friends and — especially joyful – a visit from one of our
sons and his girl friend, I am both grateful and anxious. We are
supposed to think about debts and obligations, sins and redemption. I
still carry a painful resentment – toward someone who
has hurt me deeply and, I suspect, believes that I hurt them. I need
to deal with this but am still struggling to figure out how. But I
know I will – that I must. That’s the other gift of this season – a
confrontation with the personal flaws that impede our prayers and our
happiness.

To those who have offered us so much guidance and support, with whom
we’ve had such fun and such meaningful prayers (and meals – and visits)
I wish you the gift of as much goodness as you’ve brought us – an
enormous deluge of joy. To our dear rabbi and his family a special
thanks for being our gateway to this new life and all that it has
meant.

And to Rick, my partner, love and best friend, eternal gratitude to you
for your courage and determination, love and generosity, talents and
humor and incredible incredible soul. Happy anniversary. Thanks for
the memories, the adventures, our amazing children, and this
astonishing, still emerging journey. L’shana tova.

Posted by Cynthia Samuels on September 12, 2007 at 09:54 AM

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DON’T MISS IT: BLOGGING BOOMERS CARNIVAL #81

The fabulous Blogging Boomer Carnival – the 81st in fact – has
landed here at Don’t Gel Too Soon. And a real feast it is.

As the Baby Boomer generation approaches retirement age, over 7.7 million business
owners will exit their businesses over the next 10-15 years. John Agno at
So Baby Boomer says this demonstrates a tremendous need for exit planning.

And while we’re talking money, two more posts this week.

This comes from Janet Wendy at Gen Plus: If, like
much of America, you are sick of watching your dollar shrinking, Janet Wendy at
Gen Plus, points you to an eye-opening post on what banks are NOT doing with your money. Oh…and be
careful. You might bust a seam laughing.

And this from Ann Harrison at Contemporary Retirement: Although
we’ve always been told that money can’t buy happiness, an increasing number of
studies show that, if you know the right way to spend it, money just may be
able to buy you happiness after all… Find
out how at Contemporary Retirement:

Meanwhile, Rhea Becker of The
Boomer Chronicles has noticed something interesting about this
year’s Olympics: "A number of athletes in the Beijing
Olympics are older than the usual crop." She’s profiled some of
them. In the Northwest Arkansas area where
I make my home, that was the case with every community. Unfortunately, it is
also the case that every one of them has closed.

If you’re looking for someone
else to fix things, Laurel Lee at Midlife Crisis Queen says
"Cut it out." No one else can change your life for you, no matter how
much you pay them."
“Spiritual work is not something you can copy from someone else’s
homework…."

One of those things you have to do for yourself is keep a marriage going. Dina at This Marriage Thing says: "Counselors say marriages are
strengthened by honest talking. But when was the last time you
really communicated with your spouse? Here are a couple of
questions that might do the trick."

If that doesn’t work, and you’re facing the end of a marriage, Wesley Hein at
LifeTwo offers an important consideration: In a divorce, who gets custody of mutual
friends? This moral dilemma is discussed
in "The
Post-Divorce Custody Battle for Mutual Friends". Make no mistake about
it, in divorce every aspect of your life changes–including friendships.

On a lighter note, no matter what the status of the rest of your life, you can fix your hair. If you color your hair, then you know how the blazing summer sun and chlorine
pools can really fade and damage your hair. Is there anything you can do about
it, short of wearing a hat? Check out what the Glam Gals have to say about it at Fabulous after 40.

Our friends over at Vaboomers have an interesting offering too – a
kind of online mall they call "viosks"
–sort of online kiosks offering art, music, cookies — lots. As they put
it: "Vaboomer is excited to announce the Grand Opening of Vaboomer Viosks on Aug 8; A Suite of
“Viosks" with the best of Boomer reFiree’s original art, books, music and
education."

My own entry is a
pensive one – about a Jewish holiday with a huge emotional punch.

MOURNING ENORMOUS LOSS: TISHA B’AV, THE TRAUMA OF MEMORY AND THE WISDOM OF JEWISH TRADITION

The lights were out; all that remained were small spotlights where the readers sat. It was a day of sorrow and mourning, so we spurned comfort and, as tradition dictates, sat on the floor. In front of the Sanctuary, the readings began: Eichah – Lamentations, the prophet Jeremiah’s horrifying account of an ancent time of soul-shattering misery. Reading it aloud is part of the holiday** but,
since I was newly observant, it was previously unknown to me, as was the
enormous impact of the dimly lit room and haunting content and trope of the reading. That first time, just three years ago, I didn’t have a clue what was coming — that night or the next morning, when the readings continued.

Accompanied by a 25 hour fast, this all takes place on the holiday of Tisha B’Av – the 9th day of the Hebrew month of Av, to commemorate the multiple horrors believed to have taken place on that day.*

This is a lot of sadness (and foreboding of more to come) to have
taken place on the same date. So it’s fair to observe a period of
mourning and remembrance. What happened to me, though, was that the
language of mourning is so fierce, so hideous, and in some ways, so
applicable to what we see happening around us now, that it is almost
unbearable to listen to. And so, the first time I heard it, I fled in
the middle and went across the hall into the childcare room. My sweet,
ridiculously smart friend Aliza, with her
infant daughter and unable to join the prayers, was off to the side
praying on her own. In tears, so troubled that I was trembling, I
interrupted her prayers, something I would never do otherwise, and
demanded to know why it was necessary for us to listen to this. And to
know we’d be doomed to do so every summer. In her quiet way, she
replied that perhaps once a year isn’t too often to recall these
fearsome times in our history.

At the time, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but now, I’m,
shocked to discover that I look forward to this annual observance,
which
comes this weekend. Why? I guess after three years some of the shock
has worn off. Of course there’s more: as usual when I listen to Aliza,
I’ve had to think harder. One thing I’ve realized is that this day,
ignored by most Jews, is a kind of anchor — keeping us in place,
connecting us, those who came before, and those who will follow.

I can’t trace my family past my grandparents on either side; all my
grandparents and their siblings came here years before the Holocaust
and any records of their ancestors were lost or destroyed as the Nazis
decimated Europe. That they were Jewish, though, is irrefutable. Now
I find that, although I can’t share their stories and traditions, we do
share a history. I realize as I am writing this that moments which
commemorate that common history are not just religious, but also family
connections. Our mourning on the 9th of Av honors not just God’s
anger, which led Him to allow the destruction of the Temples, and not
just the martyrdom of so many, but also each individual, unknown person
whose DNA is mixed with mine.

I had often
protested that we need to honor that which we value as the positive
attributes of the Jewish experience, not just the martyrdoms that
remind us of our history of suffering, but also the joy and pride
our tradition offers. What I’ve realized is that we can’t forget..
There’s much to be learned by what’s
come before and by acknowledging our connection to it. And this deeply
moving, haunting and humbling tradition is connected to each of us
right
now, this minute.

* With thanks to the OU Tisha B’Av website :

In the time of Moses, the "sin of the spies" whom he sent out
to evaluate the situation in the soon-to-be conquered Canaan and who
returned with horror stories that questioned God’s power to protect the
Jews and caused Him to decree that none from the generation who went
out of Egypt would be permitted to go into Israel.
The destruction of the first Temple under Nebuchadnezzar. (587 BCE – 3338 in the Hebrew calendar)
The destruction of the second Temple under Titus. (70 CE – 3895 in the Hebrew calendar)
The Romans conquered Betar, the last fortress of the Bar Kochba
rebellion and Hadrian turned Jerusalem into a Roman city. (135 CE –
3895 in the Hebrew calendar)
King Edward I signed the edict that expelled all Jews from England (1290 CE – 5050 in the Hebrew calendar)
Jews expelled from Spain because of King Ferdinand’s decree (1492 CE — 5252 in the Hebrew calendar)
The last Jews left Vienna under expulsion orders there. (1670)
World War I began (1914 CE — 5674 in the Hebrew calendar)
Himmler presented the plan for the "Final Solution" to the "Jewish
problem" to the Nazi party. (1940 — 5700 in the Hebrew calendar)
Nazis began deporting Jews from the Warsaw Ghetto. (1942 CE — 5702 in the Hebrew calendar)

** Also, interestingly, quoted in Christian prayers for Zimbabwe,

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T EAT IN MY HOUSE?

I just came from a beautiful, moving wedding that reminded me once again of everything I love about this observant Jewish life we are living. It is a privilege to have the warmth and spiritual richness that it provides and I understand that more every day. Sometimes though, even after nearly four years, the process is a pain. I wrote this a couple of days ago and haven’t posted it because it’s so cranky; now as I recall the beauty of Jewish ritual, I can balance that grouchiness with a gratitude for all I have gained. So read it with that in mind.

I had a long conversation a couple of days ago with a close friend. He wanted us to come to dinner, and when I explained that, because we eat only kosher food and use utensils that have only dealt with kosher food, it would be better if he came to us, it came as something of a shock. All he wanted was to extend hospitality to us, and I had to refuse it. A very troubling experience.

I have had, and continue to have, a real sense of peace and meaning and connection since we’ve been living this life, and wouldn’t trade it for anything, but as you know, I’ve written plenty about my battle with keeping kosher. Initially romantic about the whole thing, I started to get angry when facing (as opposed to all the great cooking that goes on in this community) the inedible stuff that passes for kosher food on airplanes, and sometimes at conferences.

Because I’ve only been living a really observant life for the past four years, it’s still anything but automatic. Because I’ve only been living a really observant life for the past four years, I know what Pho tastes like, and ham sandwiches, and lobster. And the great feeling of discovery when you wander into a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant and it’s just fabulous. All gone now. And most of the time, I’m fine with that. But here are some things that sometimes continue to be difficult:

Continue reading WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T EAT IN MY HOUSE?

UNTIL PASSOVER PASSES OVER: HARD WORK AND TRUE MEANING

I used to love Passover. The politics of freedom, the story of courage and redemption, the miracle of the Red Sea and the great songs — all wonderful. We had nursery school matzoh covers that the kids had made, lots of stories and family and friends around and a general great time. Once each year. And then the holiday was over. There was no preparation beyond the cooking.

But that was then.

Now that we are living our kosher, observant life, things are pretty different. And exhausting. In the first place, the holiday is two days long at each end with, I think, five days in between. This year, it started Saturday night at sundown, with the first Seder (the word means "order" and it’s a ritual meal telling the Passover story). There are services Sunday then many people have company for lunch. We went home to crash because that night there is a second Seder! This year, since Friday night is the beginning of the Sabbath, that means that from Friday night until Monday night we couldn’t use computers, read email, drive, turn lights on and off etc. There are reasons for it; honoring the commandment to celebrate the liberation of the Jewish people is a wonderful privilege. It’s just so much work!

If you’re Orthodox you have to clean the house (well, we’d probably do a spring cleaning anyway) to get rid of any crumbs or other chometz (bread-related stuff). The toaster has to go (crumbs = chometz). The coffee machine has to go (to be replaced by one that has used Kosher for Passover coffee only.) You have to swap out all your dishes and pots. I’m having artichokes on one of the meals I’m serving and just realized I have no ramekins to put the dip stuff into because they are used the rest of the year. Gonna have to figure that one out…. And I haven’t even told you about all the food that’s not legit and how you need special spices labeled Kosher for Passover and they don’t make Passover curry powder or tarragon or even decent mustard.

Anyway it’s a pain. I began this post in a snit but now it’s three days later, the first days are over, everything is done and I feel better. The last thing, the hanging pot rack, is covered by a sheet (so scenic – here it is.) Here’s why: all the non-Passover stuff has to either be isolated or out of the room. It’s really tough, and heavy, to take all my fancy Calphalon pots off the racks and down to the basement so this is the solution I’ve come up with. The other stuff not in the basement is in cabinets that are taped shut . The remaining kitchen storage is jammed with Passover-ready tools and foods. What’s not in there is piled on the counters because there’s no place else to put it.

I’m in a real work mode so it’s been doubly tough to pay respectful, thorough attention to this this year — only our second living in a kosher home as observant Jews. But it’s done. And now, I’ve just been struggling to get past the prep anxiety that was waking me up at night and into the holiday itself. OH and not end up obsessing about where we’re invited for lunch and who’s coming to our house and….

Even so, I can still summon the thrill of remembering the remarkable past and recovery the Jewish people experienced – leaving Egypt and so many times since. (if you don’t count that pesky Golden Calf thing.) And remember that it’s our tradition to honor freedom and tell the story every year – like Camelot.

Ask ev’ry person if he’s heard the story,
And tell it strong and clear if he has not,
That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory
Called Camelot.

Even more than Arthur’s though, our story is informed with a moral depth that can be obscured by all this crazy kitchen-cleaning. Think of the Ten Commandments – the second time they appear.

“‘Observe the Sabbath day, to keep it holy, as the Lord your God commanded you. 13 Six days you shall labor and do all your work, 14 but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord
your God. On it you shall not do any work, you or your son or your
daughter or your male servant or your female servant, or your ox or
your donkey or any of your livestock, or the sojourner who is within
your gates, that your male servant and your female servant may rest as
well as you. 15 You shall remember that you were a slave [3] in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. Therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day.*

That’s how it gets me. At each Seder, Saturday and Sunday nights, we read the story of the abuses against the Jews and the miraculous escape – and are reminded that, as we deal with others, we must never forget that we once were slaves too – particularly in our dealings with those who work for or serve us. Beyond that, concern for others informs the entire service. This appears near the beginning:

This is the bread of affliction which our ancestors ate in the land
of Egypt. Let all who are hungry, come and eat. Let all who are needy,
come and partake of the Pascal lamb. Now we are here; next year may we
be in the Land of Israel. Now we are slaves; next year may we be free
men. You could, of course, complain about the "free men" phrase but that was thousands of years ago, and the sentiment, in my view, transcends gender.

So there you have it. It is an honor to live with such values and messages even though, my friends tell me, the aggravation arrives every year, with the Seder. Like so many parts of this still-new life we are living, there’s much asked of us, not only spiritually but also logistically. But, like so many parts of this still-new life we are living, what emerges amid the crankiness is a sense of pride, and meaning, and peace.

*Thanks to my friend Aliza for this insight – she is a true thinker and teacher.

FOLLOWING OUR MOTHER RUTH: THE STORY OF A CONVERSION

We had a party Saturday. Ice cream cake, fruit, songs and verses. It wasn’t exactly a birthday party, but kind of. It’s very tough to convert to Orthodox Judaism. Rabbis ask you over and over if you’re serious. You have to study. You have to read out loud in Hebrew. You have to answer questions to a board of 3 (male) rabbis. Then, you have to immerse yourself in a Mikvah. It’s the culmination of several years of study and soul-searching.

So we had a party today. To celebrate a young woman who had navigated the process and, just this past week, emerged from the waters – Jewish. As she spoke to the assembled women she told us not just about her own journey, but, in a way, about our own. Unable to begin without tears, she decided first to read the passage that seemed to her to describe where she’d been – and where she’s landed. (Another convert friend of mine told me she’s clung to the same verses — they have particular meaning to those who choose to become Jewish and "go where we go.") Standing at one end of a table covered with ice cream cake and fruit
and surrounded by many of the women of our congregation gathered in her
honor, she began to read.

Mother-in-law Naomi is
trying to convince her widowed daughter-in-law Ruth to go back to her own
nation and not suffer with her.

But
Ruth answered, “Don’t ask me to leave you! Let me go with you. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live,
I will live. Your people will be my
people, and your God will be my God. Wherever you die, I will die, and that is
where I will be buried. May the LORD’s
worst punishment come upon me if I let anything but death separate me from you!”

The story represents much of what she feels about her new life. Her choice: to meet the very demanding requirements of conversion and join the tribe that I was born into and, for much of my life, lived within – accepting my identity as a Jew but very little else.

In many ways, I have made the same choices she did. Compared to the way I live now, the Judaism I knew then was an identity easily moved aside when inconvenient. Now, after four years of increasingly observant life, my identity is so tangled with my Judaism that there’s no way to pretend it isn’t there, isn’t affecting all I see and every choice I make. They call it "the yoke of heaven" — acceptance of the rules handed down so long ago. It looks so weird from the outside, so whether you’re my young friend choosing to become a Jew, or me, choosing to actually live like one, you’re somewhat set apart by your decisions. Keep kosher – you can’t eat in most restaurants or even at your old friends’ homes. Observe the Sabbath, you can’t go see Great Big Sea or Bruce Springsteen or a good friend’s 40th birthday party because they’re on Friday night. Honor the holidays and you may antagonize clients and risk losing business. And sometimes, friends, and even family, look askance, withdraw or just shake their heads.

Even so, what my friend has chosen — what my husband and I have chosen — what the community of friends we love has chosen – is a life rife with meaning and commitment, with tangible goals to be better, more honorable, more committed beings with an informing value system and sense of purpose. After a lifetime that was pretty successful and often seemed glamorous and highly visible, this is a choice of which I am very proud. Different from before, but at least as demanding intellectually, ethicially and emotionally as any other stop on my life’s journey. In many ways, it has allowed me to rediscover the person I used to think I was, and liked – as a writer, a thinker, a wife and mother and friend. I am grateful that I have found it, and so very glad that this generous and articulate young woman reminded me, through the moving and exquisite reflections on her own choice, just why I made mine.

SHABBAT IN JERUSALEM – HATS – AND SHABBAT SHALOM

These two lovelies, Ruthie (R) and Naomi (L), run a wonderful hat shop on King George St. in Jerusalem (#14 if you want to stop by…) I met them last year and loved both the hats (if you live an observant life you wear a hat to services and many women wear them all or almost all the time) and the two of them. A women-owned, sister-run company, their shop is my favorite – partly because Ruthie works on the hats right there in front of us – but also because they are such a great story.

What better day than Shabbat to think about two wonderful women making us happy to wear our hats to shul? I took two friends with me when I went there this time and among us I think we bought five hats! Here’s mine:

A little stardust never hurt anyone, right? I really love it and am now going to have to demonstrate enormous discipline by waiting until spring to wear it. Let’s hear it for the girls, right? And Shabbat Shalom.

NOTE: this post was created Thursday night and set to be posted on Saturday morning. NO WORK on it was done on Shabbat.

JERUSALEM, THE WALL, AND THE SEPARATION OF WOMEN AND MEN

Early this morning, in a gray, chilly rain, around ten of us went to the Western Wall (the Kotel) to say morning prayers. It’s always very moving (and sometimes upsetting) to go to the Kotel. I’ve been there in summer and fall, alone, with our kids and with groups, to a bar mitzvah and a paratrooper regiment induction (all Israeli military take their oaths there), when I was first pregnant 30+ years ago, and placed a prayer for our new child’s health into one of the cracks, and countless other times. One thing remains true. There’s the
really big men’s side….

and the really small and usually (though not today) ridiculously crowded women’s side. Surprisingly, the separation, like that in the synagogue, doesn’t bother me. If I were a young mother whose sons and husband were sitting together while I sat alone, I might feel differently but for some reason I like being with my "sisters" on the women’s side, not worrying about the spiritual condition of anyone but myself. It’s peaceful.

Of course, in all parts of observant Judaism there’s an undertone of the perplexing – why must women and men be apart for so many of life’s critical moments? Some of the rules, however they are justified, are difficult and I’m struggling to be available to understand them. The toughest right now, because we’ve just been learning it, are the Laws of Family Purity and the physical separation of husband and wife any time there is a presence, or recent presence, of menstrual blood. It’s confusing enough dealing with periods, and the "clean" days after one’s period ends, which must pass before any kind of physical contact (not just sex) is permitted. Of course rules like these are observed to different degrees by different couples. Some make token acknowledgment of the requirements. Some sleep in separate beds. Some don’t sit on the same couch if there is only one cushion. SOME won’t even pass a bottle of milk from one hand to the other but place the bottle on the table for the other to retrieve. OK. That’s a choice – it all comes from brief mentions in the Torah, this is how it’s been interpreted and it’s so private that each couple finds its own way of living within the law. Women also find their own ways of dealing with what could seem a real stigma. One of my favorite teachers says it’s a time to "reclaim one’s body for oneself" and further, that the physical restrictions cause couples to deal more openly in verbal terms with many of life’s issues, because physical contact isn’t part of the equation. I just listen and work to be open-minded – I have learned that much about this world into which I’ve moved becomes intelligible over time – and not to condemn that which I haven’t had a chance to absorb.

Even more confusing and the hardest of all, for me, are the rules of childbirth and miscarriage. Because we bleed after childbirth, once we are free of birth pains and no longer in distress, in many families the husband does not touch his wife again after that initial support during birth, until the bleeding stops. One rabbi’s rule: "Help physically as much as you need to during labor – but the minute the baby is born – no more." Others say that a post-partum woman is still "sick" so deserving of as much love and affection as she requires. The same divisions exist after a miscarriage. The bleeding preempts physical contact once the initial trauma is over. This is tough stuff. (There’s also lots to say about the Mikvah – a ritual bath married women visit before resuming sexual relations after periods or childbirth. I learned an enormous amount about that today from a generous young, newly-married friend who’s also on this trip. But I think it’s another post altogether. I acknowledge that here so you don’t think I’ve omitted it altogether.)

I have waited over a week since our class about this before I posted, in order to allow myself time to think about it. I’ve brought myself to a position of tolerance and acceptance; those who believe that this is the way God wants us to live, or believe that these are God’s laws which cannot be broken no matter how we feel — these loving souls should "live and be well" within the life’s rules they’ve chosen. I’m through with condemnations of everything I don’t agree with. I used to think so many things — things that this life has taught me were just ONE WAY of seeing the world. I’m working on reaching that attitude toward these rules of "family purity."

They arise today because of this trip to the Kotel – just one more separation — that placed this new family information in sharp relief. I’ve been troubled by it – probably always will be. But I consider it real growth that I’m working to understand, not deride, these ideas. What better place to do that than in this holy city?