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Uncategorized December 8, 2014

Hair Covering: The Women Speak

For part two of the hair covering discussion (can you say “controversial”?), I’ve polled women of all kinds on their feelings on hair covering – why they cover, or not; with what and when; and how it makes them feel.  I still have not heard from a woman who does not cover her hair as to why she doesn’t, so open invitation for that, but here’s a sampling of the responses I’ve received, including a woman who isn’t Jewish (see Kajsa’s response at the end).

Note: the word “tichel,” not to be confused with “kichel,” is a Yiddish word for kerchief.

The Questions:

1. Do you cover your hair?
2. If so, why?
3. If not, why?
4. Did you always know, growing up, that you would?
5. What is your preferred method of covering your hair – wig, scarf, hat, baseball cap, or any old thing will do?
6. What influences your answer to #5?
7. How has covering your hair, or lack thereof, impacted on your identity as a Jewish woman?
The Answers:


Anonymous covers her hair partially, but also owns a wig:

1. Yes and no. I technically cover my head
2. As a sign/symbol of being married
3. NA
4. No, I really thought I would not until I was about 18. I had really only been exposed to one type of covering and it did not appeal to me.
5. I prefer hats or scarfs as they are more in line with what I believe in philosophically and serve the purpose of #2. I do own wig that I wear for work or for occasions that it seems more appropriate.
6. The community I live in, the community I work in and the community I socialize in.
7. Covering my head has really been a huge part of my Jewish identity and I am very proud of the commitment I have made to do it.  I certainly have also been misjudged based on it both favorably and unfavorably depending on the circle I am in and the type of covering I happen to be wearing. I hope I can use those opportunities to grow.  In either case, covering my head helps make me feel connected to G-d, my husband and my family on a daily basis.
Ariella never planned on covering her hair:

1. Do you cover your hair?  yes
2. If so, why?  For reasons of modesty
3. If not, why?
4. Did you always know, growing up, that you would?  Heck, no
5. What is your preferred method of covering your hair – wig, scarf, hat, baseball cap, or any old thing will do?  Scarves and wig
6. What influences your answer to #5?  When I wear beautiful scarves, several of them at once, I feel regal and connected to the earth and to GD more so than when I cover my hair with a wig.  I often think that this is what our foremothers wore, back in the day, which makes me feel a connection to them, too.  In order to carry the scarves, I find that I need to wear earrings and makeup which forces me to ‘dress’ in the mornings,  I feel like when I’m put together with scarves (or a wig) all day, my house is holier, calmer, more positive, and everyone behaves better actually, as opposed to when kids and husband come home and I’m in a snood etc.  My kids and husband are happier when I’m dressed. I see their pride that their mommy/wife looks beautiful.   I totally believe that it affects the energy in my home, for the good when my hair is covered.  Also, I am more aware of myself as a Jewish woman, publicly, when I wear scarves or my sheitel which impacts my actions – from the way I speak to others to the way I carry myself around town. When I’m in a kiruv setting, I tend to wear the wig as I’m not as confident with the scarves in that setting.  I ‘blend’ in better with the wig.  Everyday and on shabbos, for the most part, I’m in lots of scarves with bling.  I love the looks (is that crazy?) that I get when I wear multiple scarves because here in Denver, it is unusual and I get tons of compliments – boosts my ego, I guess.
7. How has covering your hair, or lack thereof, impacted on your identity as a Jewish woman?  See above.

Rivki feels inspired by women of other faiths who cover:

Looking forward to seeing
what everyone else says about hair covering.  This is my two cents:

I prefer to cover with whatever is easiest and
still looks nice.  In the summer, this means tichels (because it’s hot and
they are cool), in the winter this means knit hats, like berets.  I also
like to wear sheitels because I feel polished and pretty when I wear them.

Sometimes when I’m wearing a sheitel and I see
another woman of faith, like a Muslim, wearing a scarf, I wish that I were
wearing a tichel or something that more visibly identifies me as Jewish. 
As much as I love the incognito factor of a sheitel, and how they look, when
faced with a more obvious hair covering, I feel embarrassed that my hair
covering is so subtle.  But I love how the sheitel really stays in place,
and how I don’t have to worry so much about it slipping back, and I feel that
all of my hair is really covered.

And sometimes when I’m wearing a tichel I do feel
self-conscious when I’m in an obviously non-Jewish place, though sometimes that
self-consciousness is more like “Yeah!  What’s up!  I’m
Jewish!”  And sometimes it’s more like, “ummm, I hope everyone here is
friendlyish.”  It just depends on the vibe of the place.

In general, though, I really like the
mitzvah.  There’s something about having such a recognizable sign of being
a religious person (more with the tichels and hats, obviously) that makes me
proud to observe this mitzvah, as well as being a reminder to me that when I’m
in public, I’m an ambassador of G-d and Torah.  When I’m driving and
wearing a hat or tichel I will think twice before honking or being aggressive (boy,
has living on the East Coast changed my driving!), because I know my actions
reflect on all Jews, and, in turn, on the Torah.  Same thing with shopping
at Target or anywhere, really.  Covering my hair is a very real reminder
that I’m representing something bigger than myself.

Also I love never having to do my hair.  Haha

Rivky says comfort is really important:

I cover my hair with scarves/tichels, etc… Only.
When I got married I had wigs (Betty and Veronica, of course) which I wore an
average of 10 times in the 6 months and then said forget it! Growing up, once I
got old enough to think about myself religiously, I didn’t really think about
head covering. Honestly, for a long time I was too busy figuring out if I
wanted to be religious at all. Once I decided I would be, I knew I was
committing to the whole deal. I do like the idea of saving something special
for my husband and the sexual nature of hair does resonate with me,
though, so it all made sense. I decided to do scarves and tichels only for a
few reasons. Comfort being the most important to me. I also didn’t really
recognize myself with a wig on so I wasn’t motivated to get used to it. Also,
and I cannot stress this strongly enough, comfort. Dan and I both went to
yeshivas in Israel that subscribed more to a headscarf for the women instead of
a wig. Wigs were accepted but scarves preferred and I find that I can express my
personality so much more with the variety of scarves and accessories. And
comfort. I find now, living out of Israel, I love wearing a headscarf. And this
is more of a hindsight thing. I didn’t really think about it before hand but
wearing a big scarf makes me different. I stand out. It makes me more aware and
mindful of my Judaism and the immediacy of God in my life. There ain’t no
getting away from being the only turban-clad chic in a room! But I am loving
this tichel revolution now. I used to get lots of confused looks from
wig-wearing women. Now I am seeing more tichels around. It’s nice. We are
Jewish women. We need to rock it out. 
Chany wears her wig 24/7:

1. Yes
2.
I’ve learned since I was a young girl that married women must keep their hair covered.
3. N/A
4. Yes,
it was an easy decision for me as I grew up in a community where most people
covered their hair. Also, all the close
women in my life, my mother, grandmothers, aunts and neighbors, all covered
their as well.
5
&6. I wear a wig, 24/7!! Growing up, I rarely saw my mother without a wig.
We knew something was wrong when she would come out of her room wearing a
snood. She still wears her wig while cooking, working out and any other
activity. I wear a snood more frequently than my mother, for comfort. However,
I find myself cooking and baking in my wig too and I take my shabbos nap on the
couch wearing it! 
7.
From the first moment I put my wig on as a married woman, I felt different and
special. As much as I try to have my wig look “natural,” I take pride
in knowing that I am wearing something physical that lets other people know I
am a Jewish wife.
Ranya doesn’t do the head wrap thing:
1.
Do you cover your hair?
Yes.
2. If so, why?
Because the Torah/our Sages told us to.
3. If not, why?
4. Did you always know, growing up, that you would?
Yes, though there was a point during my rebellious teenage years that I
questioned whether I would be orthodox at all. But envisioning myself orthodox
always included covering my hair.
5. What is your preferred method of covering your hair – wig, scarf,
hat, baseball cap, or any old thing will do?
I am most comfortable in a hat/beret, snood or pre-tied tichel, but don’t love
how I look in them. In the summer I like Israeli tichels, but not the fancy
head-wraps. When I want to feel and look good, however, I wear a band fall or
sheitel.
6. What influences your answer to #5?
I am a creature of comfort.  My husband likes me to be comfortable and not
all done up all the time, but I know he likes how I look in a sheitel better
and would choose a tichel over a snood any day. He doesn’t like the head-wrap
look at all so I haven’t even attempted it, though it doesn’t look easy or
comfortable anyway. I have become more and more comfortable in a sheitel or
fall over the years, especially with the wig grips as opposed to the clips that
were so uncomfortable. I also like that I don’t have to be adjusting it all
day. And now being at work instead of home with kids, it’s easier to have a
sheitel on anyway.
I do struggle with how natural the sheitels look, and it’s hard to make the
right choices in terms of modesty in sheitels, but it’s really no different
than making the same choices in clothing and it is still serving the purpose of
head covering.
7. How has covering your hair, or lack thereof, impacted on your identity
as a Jewish woman?
I feel like covering my hair, no matter which form, helps me remember to
act in the proper way, especially as a married woman, it creates instant
boundaries. It makes me feel separate and different, in a good way. Even in a
sheitel…you don’t forget that it’s there!!  
Judy prefers a wig:
 prefer to wear a sheitel. In the back of
my mind, I am always worried that I will be somewhere where I will be required
to remove a hat for security purposes i.e. airport, border crossing etc. Then
whoever would require me to remove it, would realize that I was Jewish which
might result in my safety being compromised etc. (childhood throwback days
growing up in anti-semitic neighborhood in Canada).


Kajsa, a Christian woman, finds covering has helped her see her inner beauty:


Hi Ruchi – here’s
my answer on your questions.


1)
I cover for several reasons: first, it’s a spiritual choice – I feel connected to
G-d.  Many Christian women would refer to Paul’s letter to Corinth but that is
not one of the main reason I cover. My cover reminds me that I am a beloved
child of G-d.

Secondly
I think it’s a bit romantic to save something to my husband: my hair is for him
alone (and close family).

Thirdly, I wanted to take back the right to my body, As a woman I am tired of being
objectified by men and society.



2)
I primarily cover with tichels, and sometimes with a knitted hat or a bandana at the
gym (swim cap when swimming).

3) The most important feeling is that I feel good about myself and how I look. I
struggle with extremely low self-esteem and covering has helped me to start
seeing my inner beauty. I now hold my head high, feeling that I am the queen of
my marriage. I feel more connected to G-d and my husband, but also to the
sisterhood of the Wrapunzel community. I now have sisters all over the world
that will encourage me, pray for me and laugh with me whenever I need it.

Miri started covering when she had breast cancer and has found a surprising result:

Why? It took me a long time to get to my covering place. I was married
11 years before I started covering full time (I used to wear a doily when I lit
the candles or went to shul). I had breast cancer and was on my way to Israel
in the TSA line when I decided to cover what I called “full time” (at
work, out of the house, etc.). I didn’t want any of the TSA people poking or
prodding me when I was sick, so I told the TSA people I needed a private room
to take off my hat. After that, it was like a commitment. Then I had cancer
surgery and decided that I needed some spiritual protection and it happened
naturally. When I first got married my husband told me to cover my hair with
dye, so that’s what I did then. 2. I cover with tichels now exclusively. Before
I used biker doo rags and bandanas, berets, etc. When I moved to NYC I figured
I would wear what ever the hell I wanted on my head and embraced the Wrapunzel
way. 3. Covering has a spiritual protection for me. However, something WEIRD
has been happening since I’ve been wrapping…men treat me like I’m BEAUTIFUL!
I’ve never had this before EVER in my life–I’ve been told I’m ‘cute’ or ‘the
smart one,’ but I’ve noticed people treat me differently with the tichel on. I
got a cat call from a construction worker yesterday! All of a sudden! I have to
admit, I am also wearing more makeup than I was because I’m not sick anymore
and don’t want to look sick. I want everything to look put together, but I
always have known what someone wears is critical to how people treat you, but
this is just insane! A young religious man (well, in his 
30s) chatted me up at
the Sprint store! And I’m obviously married! Sorry for going on and on…:)
And how would you answer the questions?
Uncategorized December 3, 2014

Hair Covering: My Midlife Crisis part 1

It seems I’m hitting my midlife crisis early, and it’s called “wrapping.”

In my community, covering one’s hair is de rigeur for married women, and mostly that’s done with a wig.  Lots of us cover our hair more casually, like with a chenille snood or pre-tied bandanna, but that would be akin to changing into your sweats.  Like, if you’re “dressed,” you’re also wearing a wig.

But in my recent trips to Israel, I’ve become more and more gaga over these beautiful scarves that women wrap their heads with.  They are just magnificent.  No yoga-pants-look here.  These women are dressed.  There is just something about the sheer authenticity of covering one’s hair with a scarf that grabs me.  And so, with the help of Wrapunzel and their cool YouTube tutorials, I’m wrapping more and more.

I’m not ditching the wig anytime soon.  There are plenty of community occasions where I’ll feel more at home in a wig – but my heart is with the scarf, no question about it.  I’ve polled some women on the matter, including some of the lovely women on the Wrapunzel Facebook fan group (a sizable minority of whom are not Jewish) and got some great responses, which I’ll share with you in my next post.

But first, here’s this chart.  It shows my personal, and I repeat, my personal, opinions comparing wigs and scarves in various categories.  Commentary is below.  I’ve rated each category on the basis of a 5-star system, with 5 stars being awesome and no stars being abysmal.  You know, like hotels, except no one gives hotels zero stars, though they sometimes should.

WIG
SCARF
Comfort
**
*****
Price
*****
Aesthetics
***
*****
Anonymity
****
*
Ease of use
***
***
Maintenance
**
*****
Religious
preference
**
****

Comfort:  Some might find wigs more comfortable.  Not me.  If they have bangs, they look more natural, but then they’re always hanging in your eyes.  Grr.  Scarves, done right, stay put, out of your face and off your neck all day long.  I can see and be seen!

Price:  Yes, I know you can buy really cheap wigs.  Cheap wigs look like cheap wigs.  Scarves are so cheap it’s funny.  Especially at the Israeli shuk.

Aesthetics:  Again, this is personal preference.  To my view, what makes a wig beautiful also makes it inauthentic.  A beautiful wig that’s also modest?  Ummm.  Scarves are beautiful and modest at the same time – that elusive blend I’m always seeking.

Anonymity:  This is a biggie, especially for those in mainstream professions.  If you need to blend in professionally, a wig is going to be a necessity.  On the other hand, there is something about outing myself as a religious Jew in public that I am finding incredibly liberating (no faking) and also giving me a much greater sense of responsibility in terms of being an ambassador of my faith.  Overall, it’s a little scary and very exhilarating.  I like it.

Ease of use:  I gave these matching ratings, because some women find it very easy to just slip on a wig and very difficult to tie a scarf just right.  Once it’s on, I find the scarf way easier.  You don’t have to fuss or mess with it.  Wigs always need to be brushed, flipped, and adjusted.  Also, once you get the hang of wrapping, it’s easy.

Maintenance:  Wigs don’t require that much maintenance.  Once a month (depending on frequency of wear) they need to be washed and done.  Transporting them is a bit of a pain.  If my wig is done for a special occasion, I’ll transport it in a “shaitel box” (if we’re traveling for a wedding, say) but otherwise I literally toss it in a ziploc bag.  No comparison, of course, to transporting a scarf.  Duh.

Religious preference:  For most religious groups, with the notable exception of Chabad, covering one’s hair with a scarf is preferable.  In some Sephardic circles, wigs are actually a no-no.  The Chabad leader, Rabbi Scheerson, maintained that wigs were preferable for two reasons: one, if women felt beautiful they would more likely stay covered, and two, no hair shows out from under a wig, whereas occasionally hair can slide out from a scarf.

So that’s my comparison chart.  In my next installment, I’ll share other women’s personal reflections on the scarf vs. wig debate, plus why they cover, with what and when, and how it makes them feel.  Stay tuned…

Uncategorized November 27, 2014

Gezunta Goodies

This is our final post from our sponsor, Gezunta Goodies.  To advertise on the blog, email ruchi@outoftheorthobox.com.
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Uncategorized November 24, 2014

Vengeance

Some of you may have missed “Finding Meaning in Terror,” my most recent post, if you receive notifications via email, since it appeared on the same day as an ad which appeared at the top of the email.  Please be sure to check it out.

“May G-d avenge their blood.”

Sounds harsh?  This is a standard prayer that one might say when hearing of the death of a fellow Jew at the hands of a hate crime – of one who was killed for being Jewish.  Last week, I included this short prayer at the conclusion of a Facebook post. 
One of the murder victims. His wife is a Markowitz from Cleveland. Rebecca Blech Schwartz, I am so sorry for your family. May his soul find rest and may God avenge his murder.
“Kraft described Levine as an exceedingly humble person, and while he was a serious learner devoted to increasing his knowledge of Judaism and Torah, he also had a sharp sense of humor and loved to joke around. Growing up in Kansas City, Kraft and Levine loved to watch the Kansas City Royals baseball team.”
Rabbi Kalman Levine The stories are coming in fast about the four rabbis murdered during the brutal terror attack in a Jerusalem synagogue – one of the them, in…
JEWISHJOURNAL.COM

I know that previously, when posting thoughts of this nature, I’ve received some inquiries about the “avenge” piece, and this time was no different. In the chat box of a Words With Friends game, an acquaintance asked: 

I always felt good about the simple Jewish approach to vengeance: it belongs to G-d. We pray to Him to bring it on people who perpetrate evil, and we go through appropriate legal channels (including this incredible law firm) to bring about justice ourselves, but we do not take vengeance into our own hands.
Then I read this emotional piece by my friend Sarah Rudolph, expressing resistance to using the term – and it really made me think.  Revenge people-style, and revenge G-d-style are not the same thing.  People-revenge is angry, instinctive, emotional, and anger-driven.  G-d revenge is restoring justice to a world gone mad.  I don’t want revenge, because I don’t want to become an ugly person.  I want G-d to do it – because I know He’ll do it right.
And I’m proud of a religion that knows the difference.
Uncategorized November 20, 2014

Gezunta Goodies

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It’s always a bit challenging to find a unique gift item under $20 that kids will be enthusiastic about. Since everybody loves something personalized, it’s the perfect gift for everyone and there’s nothing else like it on the market! In addition, each order is personally hand-crafted and with our quick response time for special requests and inquiries, the customer service is great!
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Uncategorized November 20, 2014

Finding Meaning in Terror

a guest post by Gevura Lauren Davis

11: 32 Monday night

As I was trying to fall asleep, the first message came in from my friend. “OMG, Gevu, terror attack in HAR NOF!!!” Har Nof: the neighborhood in Jerusalem we were blessed to live in for six years. Where I studied. Where we were married. Where we raised our first two children. 

11:34 
Our frenzy began. The frantic search for information I am all too familiar with. JPOST. TIMES OF ISRAEL. HAARETZ. CNN. FACEBOOK. Searching and searching for more information. Any information. Agassi Street. A big Shul. 

11:50 
Oh no, my husband says. First report of one dead and many injured. At Rabbi Rubin’s shul. The big shul that many hundreds of people pray in every morning. 12:00 the news hits all major outlets. BBC reports possibly several fatalities and several injuries, which “may be terror related.” Har Nof is on lockdown as they search for a third armed suspect. A flurry of calls and emails. 

12:11 
My revered teacher Rebbetzin Heller posts on Facebook please pray for my son-in-law who was badly injured. Rebbetzin Heller, mother of 14 children, whose husband died this year. No, no no. Which daughter, I wonder? Is it Chani, who has quietly volunteered to organize hundreds of visiting students to sleep overnight at the hospital with children, whose weary parents need some respite?

12:32 
I’m trying desperately to call my friends and teachers, but all lines are busy.

6:30 am Tuesday morning
After trying to sleep for a few restless hours, I read that Rabbi Goldberg is among the dead. The father of Rivka, who waxed my eyebrows the day of my wedding. The husband of Mrs. Goldberg. who lived for decades in Har Nof without an oven, as they could only afford a cooktop after they sold everything in England to move with idealism to Israel. Mrs. Goldberg, who greeted me every morning in school with a smile and a hello. Mrs. Goldberg, who was the first to teach me how to make challah. Among the dead: Rabbi Kalman Levine, who grew up in Kansas City and was in the first graduating class at HBHA. Rabbi Kalman, my husband’s teacher’s study partner. Rabbi Kalman, father of nine, and grandfather to many.

7:00 
I walk into my children’s room to wake them up for school. They notice my tears, and I feel compelled to tell them since they will inevitably hear from others. My sweet, precious children. Your old playground is now a graveyard. The shul Daddy took you to this summer is now covered in blood. Holy books are strewn about the floor, and bodies still wrapped in their tefillin are now in morgues. 

“Where, Mommy?” my son wonders. 

In the shul right across the lookout point where Daddy proposed to me; remember I showed you this summer when we visited? Remember, I pointed out the shul where one of Jerusalem’s leading rabbis prays. That one. 

“How many people killed, Mommy?” my son always asks. 

Four, my son. 

“How many injured, Mommy?” is always his next question. 


Nine, my sweet child.

“Did we know any of them?” he fears. 


Yes, my love, your teacher’s uncle, Rabbi Twersky. 

And now his tears join mine in a sad, sad embrace. An embrace I personally, and the Jewish people, are all too familiar with.

You see, this is not the first time I have been involved in a frantic search for news. The first time was when I was 20 years old, and came to Hebrew University to learn more about my people and our heritage. The second week I was there, the busiest pizza shop on Ben Yehuda, Sbarro, was bombed. Several visiting students on my program went home. Emory contacted me to say that if I wanted to stay I needed to sign a document that they were in no way responsible for my safety. 

Then my bus that I always took to school from the Old City was bombed.  Even more students went home. Then I made aliyah the next year and the day after I visited Hebrew University, the cafe was bombed. I showed up on my first blind date with my husband with mascara all over my face. I heard on my bus ride to meet him about another bus bombing. I had to run to a payphone to call my parents and tell them that fortunately I was not on that bus. Not that time. 

The terrible, painfully familiar sirens. The busy phone lines. The search for answers. For news. Each time, there is the same terrible, indescribable feeling of searching.  Reading the names. Hoping and praying you are not familiar with any of them. So this time the names were particularly painful. Because they were familiar to me. And I have the faces of the widows and fatherless children crying out in my mind. But the truth is that they are always faces. Faces of people’s children. Faces of people’s parents. Faces of people’s spouses. And they are real. Lives cut short. Entire future generations cut off from this earth.

So as I mourn with the rest of the Jewish people and the entire world, that rabbis, fathers and sons, are once again murdered in Israel’s capital, the city of gold we have been praying for two thousand years to return to, I am forced to ask myself. How can we go on? How can I make any sense of this horrific tragedy? What lessons can be learned? What comfort is there?

The answers are not simple. And they are not forthcoming. They are different for everyone. I wanted to share my own personal meaning. The morning of the murders. While the pain is still so raw and so fresh.

Of course, we need to continue to invest our resources and efforts into organizations that actively work towards supporting the victims of Terror like One Family and the agencies of the Jewish Federation who do so. We also need to strengthen organizations like AIPAC who continue to try to protect Israel’s interests and security. But the painful reality is that there is no easy solution to the problem of terror against Jews. Higher fences. Looser Borders. More security. Land for peace. Peaceful non-coexistence. It is painful, but the reality is that the political solution does not seem to be forthcoming. Arm everyone? Revoke citizenship? Build more walls? Leave Israel?  That’s the worst part. The paralyzingly realization of no livable solution foreseeable or available to us .

My answer is that I can’t live my life the same way. Many of us are familiar with the famous idea by Rabbi Nachman of Breslov “The whole wide world is a very narrow bridge, and the main thing is to be strong, and to have no fear at all.” It has become a BBYO anthem and a favorite camp song.  This morning, I am sitting here crying in the JCC watching images on CNN of prayer books strewn about the floor and blood flowing through a synagogue.  And I am painfully reminded of the blood that flowed through the halls of this JCC only months ago.

This is not the first time Jewish history that we have been murdered for being Jewish. There were the Greeks who rose up against us during the Chanukah Story, the Persians during the Purim story, the Spanish during the Inquisition, the Cossacks in the Ukraine, the Nazis in Europe, and many modern day tragedies still. We continue to mourn.

But why?

The Jewish people have a unique destiny. The Torah tells us that we will endure many national tragedies. We are told in the Torah that we will suffer terrible misfortunes as a people and as individuals.  But the Torah also tells us that we are to be Holy Nation, a light unto the other nations of the world. It seems sometimes for me like I forget this fact. I like to live my life like everyone else, carefree and relaxed. Enjoy sports and food, and live as though I am no different from my neighbor. But then I have moments like today, when my fate, the destiny of the Jewish people is blaring painfully in my face that we are different.  

As I sit here typing in the JCC, I know that I will soon go home and continue my day. But my brothers and sisters in the land of Israel do not have that luxury. And suddenly everything has so much more meaning. The stupid fight I am having with a colleague seems so insignificant. My concern for my daughter’s broken collarbone so trivial. As orphans are now burying their fathers, and wives are by hospital bedsides crying their eyes out for a miracle. And I remember. Our unique purpose is to bring light into a dark and barbaric world. This means living as a holy people, dedicated to our unique destiny. The world reminds us that we are indeed a separate people.  Yet it is so easy to forget. Let’s try to remember, though.  I am sure that already by tomorrow or next week my feelings of rededication to live my purpose in life will be slowly fading. But today I want to remember.

The Jewish people will fight on. The Jewish response to darkness is to bring more light into the world. Please consider doing a mitzvah today in the merit of those who are injured and in the memory of those who were extinguished.  The Torah teaches: Ki ner mitzvah v’ Torah ohr, for each Mitzvah is a candle and the Torah is a great light.” Possible ideas include doing kindness for others, saying prayers, particularly Psalms or any other words in your own language to G-d; giving tzedakah or charity to a worthy cause, forgiving someone and making peace among people, doing a kindness for another. Every heartfelt tear and every single deed has the potential to illuminate the world. And we need much much more of that right now. We don’t understand G-d’s ways, we can’t and we won’t. We know one thing, that G-d blesses us with the ability to choose good for every precious moment we are blessed with. We just never know when it will be our last. Let’s live our lives with this knowledge, and become better people for those who no longer have that opportunity.

12: 00 noon 
As I write, my hands are shaking in grief. It is my heartfelt prayer and eternal hope that I will never again be searching the news for names and information. It is the hope of our people. That we may one day live as a free people in our homeland in peace. Am Yisrael Chai.
Uncategorized November 17, 2014

In Defense of Conversion Rabbis

by Amy Newman Smith 

“And then the rabbis come in,” my friend explained.

“WHAT?!?” I shrieked. I had asked her, a recent convert with the same beis din (rabbinic court) that was handling my conversion, to walk me step by step through the process.

The rabbis come in? To the mikveh? My thoughts were rapid and panicked. I had met and married a fellow Conservative movement convert. Together we had grown in a different direction and were on the threshold of finalizing our Orthodox conversions after 18 months of learning and living Orthodox Judaism. We had upended our lives in more ways than I can count, lost friends who thought we had lost our minds, moved from an apartment we loved to one we hated in order to be within walking distance of the synagogue. And now, my panicked brain thought, I’m going to have to call it all off. I had learned the laws of mikveh, the ritual bath, and knew nothing could be between my body and the water. I had gotten rid of my pants, raised my necklines, started covering my hair. And now I was supposed to be naked in front of three rabbis? Oh no. That was not going to happen.

My friend, seeing the horror on my face, rushed to clarify. What I had imagined wasn’t real. It was all going to be okay. And so, on the day of my conversion, I met with the three rabbis who made up my beis din. According to the rules of the Rabbinical Council of California, our sponsoring rabbi – the rabbi who for the last year and a half had mentored us, tutored us, and inspired us through the process of becoming Jews – could not be one of the rabbis, but I had met the head rabbi as part of being accepted as a candidate for conversion, and again when we met halfway through our learning to assess our progress. After some probing questions to gauge whether I had the knowledge to keep core commandments and establish that I had no ties to other religions, no ulterior motives, and had not asked to be converted under the promise of reward or any threat, we separated to meet again at the mikveh.

In the past weeks, since the revelations that Rabbi Barry Freundel allegedly watched women in the mikveh preparation rooms via hidden video cameras – not conversion candidates, but married Jewish women preparing to use the mikveh as part of a monthly ritual – the cries have come that men have to get out of the mikveh business. Blogs, public letters, op-ed pieces. One man’s alleged criminal acts opened a floodgate of criticism. It only got louder when it was revealed that Freundel had been reported for requiring conversion candidates to work for him for free and to make donations to organizations he headed.

“There are some places and situations where males, including rabbis, should never be present. One of them is a women’s mikveh. Period,” wrote Jennie Rosenfeld on The Jerusalem Post website. In a recent Times of Israel blog post, Shoshanna Jaskoll insisted that the same rabbis who required modesty of dress and behavior in Orthodox women could not take part in female conversions without being hypocrites and were likely having “indecent thoughts” about the conversion candidate. Jaskoll quoted unnamed rabbis, and took snippets from an open letter from the one rabbi she named – Rabbi Steven Pruzansky – that served her ends. The entire letter, if one takes the time to read it, tells a vastly different story.

At the mikveh, a gentle and genteel mikveh lady kindly went over step by step what would take place. Then she gave me a full-length robe, so thick that it would not be see through even when fully wet, to put on and left me alone to change. When I indicated I was ready, she walked me into the mikveh room and waited until I was in the mikveh, giving me time to make sure I had the robe adjusted so that I was comfortable and covered. The three rabbis summoned from the room where they were waiting stepped only close enough to the mikveh to see my face, to ensure I was the same Amy Newman Smith who had sat in their office earlier that day. No Leah for Rachel, as it were. 

Then they stepped back, able only to see the top of my head. They were close enough only to see my head go under, to hear the blessings a convert says, and hear the mikveh lady say “kosher” as I immersed each time, ensuring that every part of my body was covered by the waters of the mikveh. Then they left the room, closing the door before I emerged to dress in private, a newly minted Jew. The only other moment I have ever felt so much holiness surround me was the day my son was circumcised, entering the covenant of Abraham. At both of those moments, I felt a cord that tied me back to Sarah and forward into eternity. I did not feel abused, violated, mistreated, or vulnerable. To the contrary, everything had been handled in a way that was designed to make the process both b’tznius (modest) and b’simcha (joyful). 

AGENDAS


Unfortunately, Rabbi Freundel’s circle of victims only continues to widen with the calls of those who say his individual misdeeds demand an overhaul of the entire conversion system. (Why is it only the rabbis who need overhauling? What about male doctors? What about auto mechanics – mostly male? Where is the outrage when they mistreat, defraud or abuse female clients/customers, demanding only women fix women’s cars and heal women’s bodies?)  More importantly, do the shouters for change realize the grave injustice they do when they say “no man belongs in a women’s mikveh”? On the basis of one man’s bad actions of misusing his power over converts and breaking the law by covertly observing them – for which he has been arrested and will go through a trial and sentencing unless he decides to accept a plea deal – every rabbi is being painted as a potential villain.

Rabbi Pruzanksy said it best in his explanation of why he was resigning from his position as the head of the Orthodox conversion court for Bergen County: “Now, the recent, voluminous and tendentious writings on conversion, the media testimonies of converts and the agenda of feminists would have us believe that conversion is all about sex, power and money. It is about evil men looking to dominate women and lusting after lucre. That is a vulgar distortion of reality. They have taken a sublime and pure moment and made it prurient and ugly. For sure, I blame my DC colleague [Freundel] for this situation, but also those who have exaggerated the problem and impute guilt and suspicion to every rabbi and Bet Din . . . I have no interest in living as a suspect. I refuse to have my integrity and character impugned, nor to be defined in the public eye because of one miscreant.”

Is Rabbi Freundel one of a kind? Almost certainly not. But is he the norm? The majority? Anything even close to being something other than an outlier? For this, the accusers bring no evidence. They besmirch the names of righteous, modest, caring men without evidence for their own ends. And that is an outrage. The hoped-for ends do not justify the means being used.

Let us think critically about what the hoped-for ends of these writers are. All the hoped-for ends. Only the deeply naive would believe that Jennie Rosenfeld, who is studying in a program for dayanot (female religious judges) and who calls for a system in which women would be able to oversee conversions, divorces, and other matters of Jewish law pertaining to women doesn’t have a personal stake in the outcome of this debate. If the status quo remains in place, her investment of time and money will have been for naught. Other writers have also previously laid out their objections to the current system of Orthodox conversions long before Rabbi Freundel’s arrest, and the disclosures that followed merely provided them with an all-too-convenient cudgel with which to attack a system they had already rejected.

Finally and perhaps most importantly, Rosenfeld and her ilk seem not to understand that by saying the entire conversion system must be overhauled, she also implies that my conversion, that my friend’s conversion, that indeed the conversions of all women that have taken place under the current system are flawed. My conversion, the bloggers and pontificators say, is tainted. It is broken. It is in need of fixing. And to that I say, “How dare you?”

Fight for what you think is good and true. Write, write, and write some more. That is certainly your right. I am not asking for these voices to be silenced, nor am I debating that having men present in the conversion mikveh process makes some women uncomfortable, no matter how discreetly it is handled. (Mikveh with a female attendant is often uncomfortable, as well.) But I hope they remember that their stated goal is helping converts. And as a convert, I tell you honestly that their words – and the false suspicions they have put in the minds of many of those who have read them – imply that I, and women like me, entered the Jewish people within an abusive and immodest context. It is hard enough to be a convert without people who claim to be acting on converts’ behalf spreading the idea that converts have undergone something shameful or perverted. 

These articles (and this article you are reading now) are unlikely to change how Orthodox batei dinim (Jewish courts) handle conversions going forward. But they do stigmatize converts and future converts by spreading the mistaken belief that female converts have been party to something terrible rather than something transcendent. 

Writer’s Note: I have chosen to use my name on this piece because I feel it is unfair to criticize others by name without naming myself and also because I have done nothing that needs hiding. Please remember that the Torah is very clear on the prohibition of mentioning a convert’s former status, of reminding them of it, and certainly of asking intrusive questions about their past of their journey to Judaism. 

Links:Rabbi Pruzansky piece: http://rabbipruzansky.com/2014/10/30/stepping-down/Jennie Rosenfeld piece: http://www.jpost.com/Opinion/Listening-to-Sarahs-voice-381190
Shoshanna Jaskoll piece: http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/make-up-your-minds-on-modesty/