Hey blog readers,
Today I’m over at The Rebbetzin Rocks. Regular readers know my friend Leah Caruso well from her always-thoughtful discussion and participation in many of our conversations here. She’s running “Orthodox week” on her blog, and has been kind enough to invite me over for tea. And blogging. So here they are… 5 of the many things I’d like you to know 🙂
Thanks Leah, for… well, you know.
Of course, I always knew what a JAP was. She was tall, beautiful. She lived in New York. Maybe New Jersey. She had a closet full of designer clothing and accessories that had always been casually purchased just this year. Her parents redid her room, oh, every so breezy now and then with custom built-ins. She knew what was in before anyone else did; in fact, it seemed that she created trend by virtue of oh-so-nonchalantly wearing it.
Here’s what I didn’t know: she had a nose job. And maybe some other, er, “work.” She was bratty. Hard to live with. Uncaring of first-world problems, let alone any other kind. She threw tantrums well past the age of two.
Here’s what else I didn’t know. Her father was short and balding. Nebbish. Neurotic. Attached to his mother. Had a bizarre, schmalty sense of humor. Couldn’t say no to her if he tried. Her mother? More complicated than years of therapy could fix. Overpowering. Guilt-inducing. Helicoptering to the most severe degree. Had apron strings that made Alcatraz look chilled. Embarrassingly loud and flamboyant.
See, I hadn’t ever met these people. No one ever told me they existed. Until Hallmark.
My friends and I used to frequent the mall that was practically in my backyard pretty much each Sunday afternoon. With our hard-earned babysitting money, we’d shop or just browse. At Hallmark, my young teen self came across an intriguing book: “The Big Book of Jewish Humor.” Or something like that. I figured it would be full of plays-on-words with Hebrew or jokes about latkes. Alas, I was about to meet My Big Fat Neurotic Jewish Family.
Jokes upon jokes that I didn’t get about Jewish mothers, guilt, nebbish men, and JAPs. I had no idea who these people were. Were they my people? Where did they live? Where were they hiding? How come everyone seemed to know about them besides me?
Was it about growing up Orthodox and pretty much shielded from much of the media? Is there some kind of inversely proportional relationship between growing up amid rich spiritual Judaism and extensive education, and knowledge or identification with classic modern Jewish stereotypes?
My friend Dr. Samantha Baskind authored a fascinating piece on “The Fockerized Jew” – an analysis of the “coolness” of Jews in the media as a fairly recent occurrence, based on the offerings of Woody Allen, Barbara Streisand, Seinfeld, and most recently, the Fockers. I read the extensive essay with fascination, not just because she is a brilliant writer, but because, well, I never knew Jews were uncool in the first place.
Woody Allen? Classic Jew? Are you kidding??
Did you identify with these Jewish stereotypes? Did they align with real-world Jews you knew?
“A spiritual leader must comfort the disturbed, and disturb the comfortable.”
Those of you that know me IRL or follow me on Facebook know that I’m seriously into mussar. Love learning it, love sharing it, love living it to the best of my ability.
But what is it?
Today I’m guest-blogging over at a beautiful blog: popchassid.com.
It’s so many things.
It’s the belief that each one of us possesses a holy soul that has a unique mission to fulfill on this earth.
It’s the philosophy that our primary path to becoming spiritual beings is the process of refining our character traits.
It’s studying, in depth, the inner workings of envy, greed,
stinginess, kindness, ego, generosity, fake flattery, laziness, modesty,
joy and serenity.
It’s identifying where our work lies, in perfecting ourselves, whenever we are in an altercation with another.
It’s the serenity and inner joy that comes from accepting responsibility for our own reactions, perceptions, and relationships.
The Yiddish word: shuckle.
Is there a Hebrew equivalent?
It’s how I saw people praying growing up.
I don’t know another way.
I’ve tried to stop.
Can’t.
It happens by itself.
Side-to-side.
Forth/back.
Sometimes, the emotion of my words gets into my body and takes over.
Or, I’m thinking about my grocery list (oy!).
Then, the sway/pray wakes me up.
Shake! Awake!
Think about where you are. (Not Heinen’s.)
Are you not ashamed
to be swaying
like a saint
when your mind
grows faint?
Close your eyes.
Sway. Be silent. Let your body remind your heart.
To listen.
Take part.
Engage.
Be on the same page.
Be one:
Words. Mind. Heart. Body.
Sway, and pray.
Or: pray, and sway.
Either way.
Tell me you haven’t received at least one email like this (all typographical errors have been retained for your enjoyment):
A woman, renewing her driver’s licence ,
was asked by the woman at Registry to state her occupation.She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.
‘What I mean is, ‘ explained the woman at Registry,
‘do you have a job or are you just a …..?’‘Of course I have a job,’ snapped the woman.
‘I’m a Mum.’‘We don’t list ‘Mum’ as an occupation,
‘housewife’ covers it,’Said the recorder emphatically.
I forgot all about her story until one day I found myselfin the same situation.
The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised,
efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like,
‘Official Interrogator’ or ‘City Registrar.’‘What is your occupation?’ she probed.
What made me say it? I do not know.
The words simply popped out
‘I’m a Research Associate in the field of
Child Development and Human Relations.’The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and
looked up as though she had not heard right.
I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words..
Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written,in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.
‘Might I ask,’ said the clerk with new interest,
‘just what you do in your field?’Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice,
I heard myself reply,
‘I have a continuing program of research,
(what mother doesn’t)
In the laboratory and in the field,
(normally I would have said indoors and out).I’m working for my Masters, (the whole family)
and already have four credits (all daughters).
Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities,
(any mother care to disagree?)
and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it).But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers
and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money.’There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk’s voice as she
completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the doorAs I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career,
I was greeted by my lab assistants — ages 13, 7, and 3.
Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model,
(a 6 month old baby) in the child development program,
testing out a new vocal pattern..I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy!
And I had gone on the official records as someone moredistinguished and indispensable to mankind than ‘just another Mum.’Motherhood!What a glorious career!
Of course ending with “please send this to all mums that you know!!!!!!”
GAG.
Variations on this theme are ubiquitous (I’m thinking of the one where someone figures out how much money motherhood would be worth on the job market). But have a big bone to pick with it all. Motherhood is not and never will be comparable to a job where people pay you. It’s. Just. Not. In fact, the two have nothing in common.
See, according to Judaism, working is neither a right, an honor, or a privilege. It’s a… ready?
Curse. Given to… ready?
Men.
And pregnancy, labor, and the difficulty in child-rearing is a… (you already knew this) curse!
Given to (you already knew this)…
Women!
For what? For the sin of eating of the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden.
Now for the disclaimers:
1. For some, working is an outlet, a way to feel useful, to give to society. I refer to needing to work in order to eat. (The source states: “by the sweat of your brow will you [be able to] eat bread.” Far cry from part-timing it to deal with empty-nest syndrome.)
2. In some families, women help out with the bread-winning, and men help out with the child-raising. This is good. We help each other deal with our mutual curses. That’s called “being kind” and is a pleasant character trait. Keep it up. Even, sometimes, women are primary bread-winners, and men are primary child-raisers. This is OK too. Nothing forbidden about that.
3. Equal pay for equal work is unrelated to this teaching.
4. We should still be grateful to the members of each gender for their hard work in their respective curses. Just because they’re cursed doesn’t mean we have it lord it over them. But to envy someone else’s curse seems rather unseemly.
Do you think?
For those of you that are into sources, check out Genesis/Bereishit/s 3:17 and 19.