I’d like to introduce you to my new friend, Libby S. Libby is a woman, a mother, and wife. She belongs to the Vizhnitz group of Chassidus [Hasidism]. Libby has agreed to open her private life to all of you, in the hopes of helping me reach my goal on this blog: Jewish unity via mutual respect and education. I am really grateful to her for this, and look forward to having you all learn from her life.
Please note that English is not Libby’s first language. Yiddish is her first language. I have added some translations and clarifications in brackets.
“Up, up, down, down…
up, down, up down…”
I knew immediately what she was singing! Uncle Moishy’s song about God [Hashem]:
Hashem is here, Hashem is there, Hashem is truly everywhere
Hashem is here, Hashem is there, Hashem is truly everywhere
Up, up, down, down
right, left, and all around
Here, there and everywhere
That’s where He can be found…
Apparently, she had been learning this ditty in her little day camp around the corner from my house. I found this to be overwhelmingly heartwarming, and repeated her genius to everyone I know (hence, here).
Why?
Because I adore the fact that my very young child, who can barely put together a sentence, is absorbing in her young and fragile psyche ideas that I hold so dear.
That God is omniscient.
That He is omnipresent.
That He’s personal.
I take God personally. That means I believe He cares intensely about what I do, micromanages world details to accommodate and make possible the personal growth of me and others, employs a level of detail in the minutiae of my motivations and machinations, and it’s all because He loves me.
Were you told that God loves you? If you ever opened a prayer book to the Shema, it was right there, in the paragraph preceding it.
Tim Tebow opened this question to the world on a whole new level: does God live on a sports field?
Here, there and everywhere, that’s where He can be found…
While hearing my child sing this song gives me intense comfort and peace, I acknowledge that there are those for whom it brings a stiffening of the neck. Was the Tebow debate about the detail of God’s personal involvement? Was it the resistance of Jews to unabashed declarations of faith?
Is that discomfort dependent on WHICH God we’re talking about (well-nigh irrelevant: a Jew would never wear his God on his sleeve. Why?)?
How much longer can my little girl unabashedly sing “Hashem is here” without filtering?
Related posts:
I’m In a Relationship
The Beauty of Basherte
A conversation from my recent post “Saturday Joggers“:
Anonymous: A few Shabbosim [Ed: Shabbats] ago I was thrown off when I passed a lady doing
gardening work and wished her a “good morning” and she responded with an
enthusiastic “Good Shabbos!”[I thought, God,]…here is a woman who is
gardening on Shabbos because she doesn’t know any better and yet she is
obviously so very proud to be Jewish and to let me know she is Jewish!
How great are Your people!Miriambyk: As an O Jew with non-observant
friends and family, I would like to suggest a modest reframe to
Anonymous above. Can we learn to respect the possibility that the
Jewish neighbor is gardening on Shabbat not because she “doesn’t know
better” but perhaps because to her tending to a garden is part of
celebrating Gd’s universe, changing her routine, or relaxing, and
therefore a CHOICE of how to spend Shabbat? No, it is not halachic, but
does it really diminish my halachic observance if I acknowledge someone
else’s right to choose to observe differently?Me: Miriam, while I think that the
percentage of Jewish gardeners/joggers on Shabbat who have made that
calculation is quite tiny, I think you hit on something extraordinarily
important that I think about all the time:Does it really diminish my halachic observance if I acknowledge someone else’s right to choose to observe differently?
This
is the crux of this whole blog. Me acknowledging that everyone has
free will to act and believe as they choose, even if I privately
“believe” or “know” or whatever you want to call it (I choose to say
believe because it’s less confrontational) that it’s not halachically
correct, is not problematic. That’s because God gave us all free will
in the first place. It’s built in to Torah philosophy.Some
people are scared that this smacks of pluralism. I disagree. Pluralism
means there are many correct ways (or even all ways have validity).
Free will means everyone has a right to do what I think is incorrect.Anonymous [I believe the same original Anonymous]: Ruchi, how do you consider
someone’s actions to be “incorrect” and still not judge them? When I see
someone whose actions are often incorrect, according to my assessment, I
will either judge them or pity them. I’m thinking of people who parent
poorly, are unethical, irresponsible, etc. So why would we not judge or
pity someone who we thought was constantly doing wrong things on
shabbos?
And I promised a post dedicated to just that.
Recently, a friend of mine posted the following question on Facebook:
“Poll: Can you/should you separate a person from his actions/beliefs? For example, can you like and/or respect someone whose beliefs and/or actions you find abhorrent? Not ILLEGAL, like a murderer, but, say, [someone] whose religious beliefs or lifestyle are radically different from yours?”
I was astonished at the question. I do that all the time! It’s my breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I couldn’t possibly interact with the world if I didn’t, regularly, judge behaviors without judging humans. One of the very clear values I was raised with was “knowing right from wrong.” I knew how to say that before I even understood what the words meant.
I feel, strongly, that every person, and especially parents (and aren’t we our own parents?) must regularly, consciously, and purposefully engage in judgment. Before your tear your hair out and delete me from your feed, read on.
Judge values. Judge ideologies. Judge actions. Judge character traits. Judge behaviors. Judge systems.
They’re either admirable, deplorable, or somewhere on the spectrum.
But never, ever judge people. Because they’re either: making a mistake; never learned that value; have chosen something else, erroneously thinking it valid; are right and you’re wrong; have come a long way unbeknownst to you; already regret it and are planning a redo; have an equally valid but foreign method of achieving an admirable goal; or you totally read the interaction wrong to begin with.
In Judaism, there is a mitzvah to do all this mental gymnastic gyration: “Give each person the benefit of the doubt.”
Observation: the less intensely a person is invested in their Judaism, the easier they find it not to judge those that are less observant. But the harder they find it to judge right from wrong. I say this not as a judgment (heh) but as a personal experience. Very often, people ask me for advice on matters of right and wrong. When I supply what I know from Torah wisdom, they are so grateful, and amazed that such clear demarcations exist.
And the more intensely a person is invested in their Judaism, the harder they find it not to judge those that are less observant, but the easier they find it to judge right from wrong.
(Other observation: the injunction to not judge humans applies equally to those more religious, and to those less religious. But I speak here not solely of judgment in religious living, but in parenting, eating, health, emotional savviness, and interpersonal intelligence.)
Note: it doesn’t say you must give every IDEOLOGY the benefit of the doubt.
And that has made all the difference.
So how do you know who’s really right? If there is, indeed, a right and wrong? Fortunately, I don’t worry about that. Because I feel that in my life I have done my due diligence in examining the world to the best of my knowledge and trying to make the most educated and objective decisions as far as living my values. If I’m wrong, I believe that God will understand and love me anyway, since I’m doing my personal best. If I’m right and others are wrong, I believe God understands what their personal best is, in a way that they themselves aren’t even aware of. And where we’re both right… we’ll party together in the shared joy that we haven’t lost our humanity in the struggle of figuring it out.
Agree? Disagree? Impossible tightrope?
Related posts:
Judgmental is Not a Religion, It’s a Personality Defect
Meet Me in Chapter Three
The Danger of Being Orthodox
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?
Rabbi, I have a silly question. So this weekend we were away for a friend’s son’s bar mitzvah, and Saturday morning I went out for a jog.
So there I am, in my shorts, and, well, you know, and my route takes me right past the local Orthodox synagogue, just as everyone’s leaving.
And so on the one hand, I want to say “Good Shabbos,” or “Shabbat Shalom,” or whatever, but would that be weird, because obviously I’m like, jogging, and not, well, in shul… And I’m not dressed modestly so would that make people uncomfortable? Or should I just say good morning? I mean, how would that be viewed by the Orthodox?
Saturday joggers and Orthodox shul-goers: what say you?
“A spiritual leader must comfort the disturbed, and disturb the comfortable.”
