tradition – Don't Gel Too Soon

Shabbat Shalom – A Post from Long Ago

As Shabbat descends, I offer from 2007, notes on how it feels to light Shabbat candles each Friday night.

One of the great gifts of an observant Jewish life is the lighting of Sabbath candles. At a prescribed time each Friday, 18 minutes before sundown, it is the obligation of the Jewish woman to light candles as a symbolic acceptance of the Sabbath upon herself. The prayer is said AFTER you light the candles because once they’re lit, the Sabbath rules – ignite no fire, do no work etc. preclude the lighting of a match.

Here’s how it works: you light the candles, move your hands above the candles three times to bring their warmth toward you, then cover your eyes and say a simple blessing. It’s in Hebrew, but it means .”Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the Universe, who sanctifies us with his commandments, and enjoins us to light the candles of Shabbat.” Yes,the words of the prayer are plain; women say them in every corner of the earth – educated or not, every week and have been doing so for thousands of years. Many of us add prayers of our own, for those we love, for peace, for the lifting of burdens, for a better world.

I always take a very deep breath — the kind they taught us when I was quitting smoking — and exhale very slowly, releasing a lot of the stress of the week before I begin. One of my friends told me that when she was in medical school and having babies at the same time, she’d weep, every week, as she felt the burdens fall from her in the glow of the flame.

Makes sense to me. Something about this ritual is transporting. I also love the idea that this is a woman’s privilege. Much has been written about what observant Jewish women are NOT permitted to do – and much of it is true. That’s another conversation. But the impact of this particular duty is profound, beautiful and serene and I am grateful for it. So, as we move toward the close of this day and toward what I have found to be the true peace of the sabbath – I send to you, whatever your faith – a peaceful wish — Shabbat Shalom.

MARRIAGE, TRADITION AND MY MOTHER’S WEDDING RING

This is the hand of my soon-to-be daughter-in-law. The ring on her finger is 65 years old. At least. I know this because it was my mother’s wedding ring, which she wore until she died, and which I have worn ever since. And now, another generation of our family will wear it as a wedding ring. It’s a joy for me and symbolic of so much: continuity, Amy’s acceptance of us as part of her life, her respect for Josh’s origins, and, as she readily acknowledges, a love of tradition and history.

When your child decides to get married; it’s a big deal. New configurations must be established as two families converge: new sensibilities, new rituals and traditions. More important than all of that though is the wish, the hope, the prayer, that these two people, one of whom you have loved with your whole heart since he entered the world and one you have learned to love — that they will find happiness, the strength to weather inevitable storms, a continuation of the laughter and friendship they so clearly share, of the closeness each feels with siblings and parents, and as much joy as can be apportioned to them.

Seeing this ring, part of my own family since before I was, moving forward in this way, means all those things, stands for everything eternal that we seek and sometimes find. It’s a gift beyond measure to me and to the family we’ve been and the one we, and they, are still becoming.

MASH NOTE TO MOM-101 – YET ANOTHER PERFECT POST

The woman in the picture just posted one of the loveliest meditations on family I’ve read. Since I write them frequently, I’m almost envious, but since it’s Liz that’s not possible. Read it. I promise my next post will NOT be about somebody else’s post. This was just too good to keep quiet about.

WEDDINGS, WITCHES AND JEWISH LIFE

Weddings are life markers – milestones on a singular journey. Every time, just like today, the two whose lives are joined know that their wedding is the most meaningful, the most special, of all. Every time, just like today, their family and friends smile and sigh, nod knowingly or watch in wonder. Most times, just like today, there is feasting and dancing, laughing and crying, present and past.

The couple in this picture are grownups with jobs, a just-completed dissertation and a real sense of wonder that they found one another and managed to make their way to this day. They planned the wedding, designed the exquisite chuppah (wedding canopy) that has been part of Jewish marriage for centuries, and worked to make the day special in every way (they succeeded.)

This is the third wedding I’ve attended this year and the third traditional observant Jewish wedding ever. That’s very unusual for someone my age but we’re blessed with friends who have made us part of their extended family and asked us to share these blessed days with them. Today, for the third time in a year I watched a groom led to his bride by a swarm of singing, dancing men; I’ve watched him lower the veil over the face of the woman he now knew for sure was his beloved. (Jacob was duped and married the wrong sister; at least 600 years old, this tradition evokes that story and acknowledges its power.) When I first learned of it it sounded barbaric to me. Men taking possession of property, I thought. Check out the goods.

Somehow though, in the years I’ve spent moving toward an observant life, it’s come to mean something quite different: a reverent bow to the centrality of a sound life partnership – not for everyone but certainly for those who choose to marry. Marriage is not just the economic and legal partnership so often described in political conversation, it’s an ancient entity with real resonance and a gigantic role in the preservation of a humane, loving and sometimes sacred society. It requires tradition carried on; it requires the presence of ceremony and ritual to link it to the couples of past generations.

On my favorite guilty pleasure, Charmed, rituals of birth and marriage are attended not only by those who share the lives and loves of the Halliwell sisters (yeah they’re witches and their story spent 8 TV seasons enchanting us all) but also by those who came before. They summon, "through space and time" all members of "the Halliwell line." Surrounded by these transluscent figures of past generations, today’s Halliwells celebrate marriages and new arrivals. Those fully and those ephemerally present conclude together "blessed be."

What does this have to do with Jewish weddings — or any other terrestrial weddings for that matter? A lot. Eight years on the air, the longest running show with female leads, it dealt often with travel through time and space and dominions never imagined. But when really important events arose, all the magic was supplanted by a single, simple spell that basically –well — brought the family together. For them it was across ghostly generations…it was a show about witches after all. But that really is what weddings do, and in my limited experience, the weddings of observant Jews are events with special power because they consider a wedding the "creation of a home" where Jewish life will be lived and celebrated. "Home" is represented by the wedding canopy, or "chuppah" under which the bride and groom marry, surrounded by loved ones of prior and subsequent generation: grandparents and parents, aunts and brothers, sisters and nephews.

This particular chuppah was built from branches rescued from a clearing near Boston and covered by a tablecloth that had belonged to the bride’s grandmother, who had died the year before. My husband’s and mine was covered by the prayer shawls of our grandfathers – mine near death and too frail to attend, his gone just a couple of years before. Again, instinctively, we, like this bride, sought connections over time.

I"m not saying this well but what I think is that we’re hardwired to want to be part of something "larger than ourselves" and faith and family are that something. For observant Jews, these connections are manifested throughout the ceremony and the traditions surrounding it. That timeless ritual and all that surrounds it bring the gift of place and meaning – the reminder that as we celebrate a marriage we join the circle once more, honoring all that has been given us and accepting the responsibility to pass it on.

Chuppas, Kallahs and Spiderman

Today I went to a wedding – the first in the new building donated to the Ronald S. Lauder Foundation for its work helping to rebuild Berlin’s Jewish community. This is the bride (Kallah) and groom. Here are a couple more:

The bedeken – where the groom lowers the veil over his wife-to-be’s face in recognition of the ploy that led to Jacob’s marriage to Leah when he thought he was marrying his beloved Rachel —

Men dancing in celebration.

This was the first Orthodox wedding I’ve ever attended – and since almost everyone was from someplace in Eastern Europe- especially Russia, – it had an exotic flavor anyway. I have lots to say about it but I wanted to post the photos now because I have to think a bit about how to describe the intense feelings it evoked.

Strangely – we decided this evening to go see SPIDER-MAN 3 in German, since it wasn’t playing in English except way downtown. It was just such an interesting contrast – a quiet reverence and sense of something sacred at the wedding, and brash, crashing violence and special effects at the movies. I speak almost no German yet only had to ask Rick what was happening maybe 2-3 times since almost none of the exposition was verbal. It does make you wonder how to understand one’s modern self as respect for old, old traditions grows with understanding.

I’m grateful for days like today, when my life lives up to the title of this blog — never gel. “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Another, more attractive (at least to me) movie hero said that….

HATS OFF (???)

What is it about hats? When I was a young lefty-hippie I ran around in a big orange straw hat with a floppy brim. You can see me here with the late, amazing Spalding Gray.

Somehow though, when I entered the world of Orthodox Judaism, the hat seemed a surrender to authority and to what I saw as a kind of lower status. Men cover their heads to remind them of God. Women are mandated to cover their hair for reasons relating to the Orthodox concept of “modesty.”

Our “beit midrash” – a group of women who study Jewish concepts, ideas and texts together every Tuesday, has just spent several sessions talking about hair covering and its origins and interpretations.

The teacher for this topic, Laura Shaw Frank, is an effective,inspiring and gifted teacher. A long-time corporate lawyer, she left her practice to become a Jewish educator. Whatever sacrifices that has involved, it has been a gift to the communities of women (and often men AND women) who have benefited from her teaching.

What we learned, basically, is that 1] Women and the temptation they offer men are perceived as terribly dangerous. Our hair is seen by many sages as so erotic and stimulating that it must be covered to protect both men and women. Therefore modesty becomes our responsibility, to guarantee the virtue of our people. 2] In most parts of Orthodox Judaism only married women must cover their hair. I’m still confused about why it isn’t more dangerous for young, single girls to be “exposed” than old married ladies like me, but there your are. 3] WHEN women must cover their hair depends on where they happen to be. At home, with only family around, no need. The farther we get out into the world, the more rigid is the requirement to “cover up.”

Of course, Orthodox women observe this obligation in different ways. Some wear wigs that cover every hair; some scarves and hats that do the same. Some cover only the top portions of their hair – as this photo of Laura Frank illustrates. Others wear head covering only in Synagogue.

THIS IS ME, NOT LAURA FRANK: In any interpretation it’s discriminatory; we’re covering our heads to protect men. Clearly there’s considerable argument about why this has to happen at all, although almost no disagreement that it has to happen in some form. It’s another acceptance of discipline, but unlike many that I’ve written about here, this one is, to me, a manifestation of a deep distrust of women and the power we wield. I have believed for some time that it is our power to create life, to bring forth new human people, that led men to view us as dangerous and subversive; that somehow it’s based on a jealousy that they do not have this ultimate privilege that rests with us.

ALL those reasons and many many more discussed over these past weeks made me really reluctant to buy into the hat-wearing thing. Then I started thinking about touring Europe and carrying scarves to put over my head in cathedrals. I was willing to cover my head in the cathedrals but not in my own congregation! I decided that was disrespectful. I began wearing scarves tied around my head. They looked kind of cool – and I felt more appropriate.

I wore the scarves for over a year and then I got sick of having them slide around and cram my bangs against my face. I solved the problem. I bought a hat. A red hat. I felt a little bit like I was playing dress-up but it’s become easier.

Last week, at the last class taught by Ms. Frank, we had a hat sale. THAT was really like playing dress-up with your girlfriends! I bought a really pretty one. And although I wear hats whenever I’m in the sanctuary at the Synagogue, I am still bothered by the discrimination implied by the rules and definitions surrounding head coverings.

As we heard in class though, if you’re going to engage in the rules of head covering and modesty, at least know where they came from. I know now, and I’ll cover my head in shul even though I’m not happy with the reasons behind it. In my heart, I still believe that much of the behavior prescribed for women in the Torah emerges from a deep anxiety about the powers and mysteries that surround us — powers that offer us the privilege of pregnancy and birth, of an inviolate connection to our children and of wisdom shared — for centuries — among us. Fortunately, no hat is going to cover that!