Tag: religion
RADIO SILENCE ONCE AGAIN
Here we are again – Friday afternoon. So here’s my standard message: I hate being off the grid for even a moment in these weirdest of times
but from sundown Friday until sundown Saturday I’m gone. If you’re
looking for me, I should be caught up and posting by Sunday some time.
Have a lovely weekend. (and thanks to Steven and Linda, whoever they
are, whose photo this is.) Their MYSpace page is private or I would
link to them – it’s perfect for a webrat like me who has to stay
offline to honor the Sabbath. Shabbat Shalom indeed.
RADIO SILENCE
I hate being off the grid for even a moment in these weirdest of times but from sundown Friday until sundown Saturday I’m gone. If you’re looking for me, I should be caught up and posting by Sunday some time. Have a lovely weekend. (and thanks to Steven and Linda, whoever they are, whose photo this is.) Their MYSpace page is private or I would link to them – it’s perfect for a webrat like me who has to stay offline to honor the Sabbath. Shabbat Shalom indeed.
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?
WEAR IT TO A WEDDING; CARHOPS AT THE DRIVE IN; BLOGGING BOOMERS CARNIVAL #65
The Amazing Riveting Blogging Boomers Carnival hits #65 this week at LifeTwo with pieces on everything from Fifties Drive-Ins to looking great at a wedding this summer to conversion to Orthodox Judaism (that’s mine.) The Carnival is free; bring your own cotton candy.
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.
ASTOUNDING JEWISH WOMEN: THE JEWISH ORTHODOX FEMINIST ALLIANCE
A little over ten years ago some remarkable women, all Orthodox Jews, decided that the only way to have an impact on the role that women play in worship and governance in the Orthodox world was to organize. Under the leadership of the legendary Blu Greenberg, JOFA ( Jewish Orthodox Feminist Alliance) was born.
From the beginning of my involvement in the Orthodox community, just three and a half years ago, I’ve been urged to be part of this group. For a long time, and still, I feel a bit under-equipped. I can argue for change and believe in it, but I can’t cite the texts that support either current or possible future perspectives, and in Orthodoxy the texts are a big part of every Halachic (religious rules) argument. I study quite frequently now, but compared to those who grew up in the parallel universe of Jewish day schools and have such a head start, I don’t know if I’ll ever feel confident in my knowledge. Even so, I have spent much of this weekend at a JOFA conference here in Washington, and it has been thrilling. And disturbing. But thrilling.
There was a film — Mekudeshet — about the Agunah – women whose husbands refuse to grant them a Jewish divorce. Orthodox women, without this
More universal were the panels. One, on gender roles in K-12 education, was very provocative. In many Jewish day schools study of religious texts moves from coed to single-sex after somewhere around the 5th grade. Of course when we do that by choice, and call it women’s education (I went to Smith and found it enormously liberating) we appreciate the freedom to be ourselves and not be cowed by louder, deeper voices. The difference is that in
My choice for the second panel was one dealing with women and text – and all the factors of interpretation that emerge as more and more women become fluent in religious texts. You aren’t going to believe this but for a long time, women were not allowed to study many of the interpretive works, and held in a kind of limbo as far as religious learning was concerned. Change is coming in this arena though – from the co-ed Maimonides Jewish Day School, founded in Brookline, MA in 1937 and emerging as the institution that broke the stranglehold on single-sex text Talmud study, to all the new institutions like Drisha to deeply educate women in text and religious rulings (Halacha.) Now it’s common for women to study these works. I go to class every Tuesday night – but it’s still considered "progressive" to offer girls (and women) equal access to all learning.
I always find it empowering, even inspiring, to attend conferences of women. Every year my days at BlogHer are treasures that sustain me all year. WAM!, the Woman and Media conference, has the same effect. This one, though, was especially moving. Brainy, funny, lively and open, these Orthodox women are working to change more than a government, an attitude or a movement. Sustained by and committed to a faith more than 5,767 years old, observant in the laws of Kashrut and family law, they work to ensure that Jewish life will be even more meaningful, and equal, for their daughters (and sons) than it has been for them.
JERUSALEM DIARY 2.0: DAY TWELVE TEL AVIV DAY TWO
Breakfast in our little cafe surrounded by locals with dogs and newspapers. This is a wonderful neighborhood – the kind people move into until those who created it have to go someplace else because it’s become too expensive. You can see it happening all around us. But it’s fun for now and the Mediterranean is literally five or six blocks away.
On our way out we passed this noodle stand — I guess these people want fresh ones for Shabbat soup
These kids in the Carmel Market are canvassing to get people to sign up as organ donors. In Israel it is still difficult to convince people to participate because of Halachic rules about burial. Much has been done to change the rules, but the squeamishness has not abated. They were charming kids, and very committed to this issue – and they had quite a stack of cards of new registrants to the organ bank here.
It’s almost Shabbat so my post for tomorrow is written and ready; this is the last one from here. I’m hoping we can go tonight to the beach for the drums that welcome Shabbat then to our friends for Shabbat dinner.