Text about challenging and milestone days.
Uncategorized November 9, 2011

Mechitza-phobia

Hello, do you have mechitza-phobia?  It’s a relatively new ailment, taking into account thousands of years of Jewish history.  Its name is derived from the Hebrew “mechitza,” referring to the divider between men and women during a prayer service, and “phobia,” from the Greek word meaning “fear.” We can diagnose this phobia with the following checklist:

1. Cynicism or antipathy toward the divider
2. Inability to concentrate on the prayers due to wondering what your spouse/child/friend is doing on the other side
3. Frustration/resentment if failure to hear or see what’s happening in the service takes place
4. Insignificance of the type of divider (front/back; side/side; balcony)

The mechitza derives from the set up of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem (ca. 957 BC) where a “women’s courtyard and  balcony” were constructed so that women could join and see the spiritual events taking place there.  Hence the source for men and women not to mingle during holy events.  The original Temple did not even have a “divider” per se, as the construct was that a special balcony was accorded for the women – which still remains a popular architectural construction in Orthodox synagogues today.  Personally, I find this the most satisfying solution since I can see and hear everything with an aerial view.

Most people seem to appreciate most the side-to-side set up, but only if they can appropriately hear and see what is happening.  When I was a child, one of the synagogues we joined had a bullet-proof floor-to-ceiling mechitza.  After one Purim, when I could barely hear the megillah being read, I asked my mother if we could switch synagogues.  And she agreed!

While I am hardly a feminist (in the classical intent anyway), I feel comfortable in synagogues where I can see and hear.  While that might seem obvious, it’s important to discuss why.  I am in synagogue for one reason: to  talk to God.  Whatever will enhance that experience, so long as it is within the confines of Jewish law, I would like to incorporate.  I am not there to spend time with my husband, nor to spend time with my children, nor to catch up with my friends.  I am there to talk to God.

I’m sure lots of you have moderate to strong opinions on the subject.  Let the discussion begin!

Person smiling and holding a cupcake.
Uncategorized November 8, 2011

Are You in a Cult?? Or, Are You Trying to Make Me Orthodox??

Hi!  Welcome to our lovely cult, the Jewish Family Experience.  Here, we attempt to fulfill all the qualifications of a cult, including, but not limited to:

1. Disconnection from family members.
At JFX, we never encourage you to invite friends and family.  Nor are we interested in meeting your friends and family.  Our staff will not attend birthday parties or simchas of non-members.  We encourage solitude and disconnection, preferably by denigrating those in your lives that are non-members.

2. Brainwashing.
Call it education, or call it brainwashing.  Either way we are hugely successful in making people believe what we want them to believe.  Sort of like college. And motivational speakers.  And parenting.  And Madison Avenue.  In any case, we don’t tolerate questions, challenges, alternate views, atheists, or lay involvement.  Ever.  The less you think, the better.

3. Our own language.
While we attempt to converse in English, that’s just a front.  Often our underbelly of Hebrew and Yiddish vocab emerges.  Or, our more evolved members will use words in those languages.  That’s good, because it keeps us exclusive and unknowable: just the way we like it.

4. Charismatic leader.
This is easy for us, since all Rabbis or teachers that are successful fit the bill.  Check.

Now that our cult-status is well-established, all that needs to be determined is: are we a DESTRUCTIVE cult, or just a garden-variety cult?  Methinks the latter, but I’m probably the last person to determine that.  After all, the cult leader denying destructive-cult-status is hardly convincing.  Thing is, finding out what defines a destructive cult is elusive and subjective.  It can be as broadly defined as “emotional harm” which varies depends on what you consider harmful.  So I can’t properly establish this.

Our next question is the goal of our cult.  Are we trying to make you Orthodox?  The answer is, of course, yes.  Why else would we be engaged in Jewish education if not to radically reform our members (pun intended)??  We want everyone to be exactly like us.  That’s because we’re judgmental and critical.  If you’ve met us, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Also, we’re fortunate in that we have the special capability of “making” people into a new denomination.  As you may know, this is very easy.  People, and particularly Jews, and most notably, married ones with jobs, kids, and homes in the ‘burbs, are open and vulnerable to new and unfamiliar ideas, especially when they involve change – even more so when they involve denying oneself favorite foods (cheeseburgers) or activities (gossiping).  We can “make” people Orthodox, Reform, or Conservative – and this special power is useful.  We thank our members for being easy fodder for this manipulation, for not resisting our wiles, and for never resisting change or challenging our lifestyles.

When we see that you are not becoming Orthodox, we drop you like a hot potato.  Of what use are you to us?  You are an embarrassment; a neon reminder of our cult failure.  And don’t think it’s good enough to be a believer on the inside.  Until and unless everyone can tell, you are a black mark on our organization.  This includes a black hat, wig, original Hebrew or preferably Yiddish name to be used at all times, double-digit children, or aliyah.  Such changes initiated inside of six months are rewarded with cult upgrades (extra cholent at kiddush).

We are fortunate that our cult has been hugely successful.  Apparently, the vast majority of Jews are simply weak, stupid, naive, and unopinionated.  This is very, very good.

MWAAHAAAAAAA!

Baking sheet with aluminum foil on counter.
Uncategorized November 7, 2011

Too Much To Say

Back from Israel.
“How was your trip?”  “I must hear all about your trip!”  Oh yes.  We must get together. And have coffee.  And talk about my trip.
Was it fun? Where did you stay?
I’m polite, knowing if I don’t follow up we won’t get together or have coffee.  Which is OK. I couldn’t possibly explain my trip, unless you’ve been there and done that. And trying is just scary.  Do you have two weeks while I talk your ear off?  Doubtful. You mean well and I appreciate that.
Meantime it may come out in small, organically calibrated doses over the next year.
But yeah, I’m back.  With a glow. Deeper, richer.  Yeah.  That’s all for now.
Inspirational quote on textured background.
Uncategorized October 12, 2011

But I Don’t Want to Spend Summer on a Sand Dune… part 2

My friend Roni Sokol of the hilarious www.mommyinlaw.com is smack in the middle of telling her Israel story… here’s the long awaited part 2 – just in time for she and me to travel to Israel in 10 days.  Thank you Roni!

Send money, I’m not coming back.
 
After I cancelled my flight back to the states, my Israeli family unilaterally decided that I would sleep on Great Aunt Rivka’s couch for the duration. This ended up being 6 months. The tricky part was that, although she allegedly spoke fluent English, Rivka could not understand my “American accent.” Accordingly, we had to communicate with a writing tablet for the entire time I lived with her (and her numerous pet cockroaches).
 
It didn’t help matters that at 3:00 in the morning the first night, my friends from LA called to inquire whether I was being held hostage, or even worse, joined a cult. They demanded explanations to the following questions: “What are you doing there?,” “Why are you staying there?,” “Did you meet a boy or something?”  Yes, they were all convinced that I met a boy and that is what was keeping me there. When I told them they were wrong, they would not believe me. So, I decided to go along with it. Yes, I had met a nice Israeli soldier boy who only came home from the army base on weekends, and I decided to hang around and wait for him. Interestingly, that answer actually satisfied them more than my previous answer–that I just liked it there.
 
The truth was, I had no idea why I was there or what I was going to do. I just wanted to stay. I was intrigued by the people. They were blunt and honest and real. They sort of reminded me of myself. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get away with sunning myself on the beach all day everyday (or would I?), so I decided that the first thing I needed to do was learn the language. I mean, if I was going to stay there indefinitely, it would be a good idea to know how to properly ask for my burgers well done.
 
So, I went to this place called an” Ulpan”.  This is where people go to learn conversational Hebrew in a hurry (reading and writing optional). This is where my grandparents met when they came over before the war. I went there every single day for months. And you know what? I learned the language pretty well. I was able to communicate fluently with 4 year olds and the elderly. I made lots of friends from all over the world at that Ulpan. I became friends with a German boy named “Ari.” I decided that when I had a son, that would be his name (not because I liked the guy that much, but because I liked the name). I still love the name (and my son, Ari, of course).
 
Well, I needed to do something else besides study Hebrew day in and day out. My parents were asking a lot of questions and the money was drying up. Fortunately, my Great Uncle Aaron would slip me some sheckles here and there. He was pretty cool for an old guy who didn’t speak one word of English. Not one word! He grew fond of me, though (thanks to my cousin who would translate).
 
Aside from Uncle Aaron, everyone kept asking me what I was going to do next and I got tired of not having an answer. So, I took Bus No. 4 over to Tel Aviv University and walked in the office marked “Overseas Student Program.” I filled out an application right then and there. They wanted money. I gave them some. I was accepted for the coming semester. What did I tell you? Israel is AWESOME!
 
I moved into the dorms and became a student. When we started, some University officials took the women aside and told us to beware of the Israeli men. They would flatter us and wine and dine us in order to get to the US of A.  They warned that our hearts would be broken in a million little pieces. They also warned us to expect to get mighty chunky, as the women always tended to get fat on this program, while the men wasted away to nothing. This could have something to do with the falafel, but I’m not entirely sure.
 
The semester was incredible–an experience like no other. I learned more about the history of Judaism and the culture than I’d ever known. And then June came. The best year of my life was over. I had become a different person. I had matured tremendously, and yes, met an ivy league boy (or 3).  I was pumped up, motivated, ready to take on anything. But now, it was time to fish or cut bait. Would I go back to the U.S., back to college, back to life as I knew it? Or stay there, bum around, sleep on that lady’s couch, get a job?
 
I decided to return home. One year had passed since I left. I needed to finish college and get on with my life. My Israeli family took me to the airport. We were all sullen. As I got ready to board the plane and was giving all my hugs, Great Uncle Aaron said in Hebrew that he did not want me to go. I told him in my broken Hebrew that I would be back. I promised. He responded that no one ever comes back when they leave for America. By then, he had tears flowing down his face. I told him I’d be different.
 
But, I wasn’t. Although the country always held a place in my heart, I did not return until 20 years later, when I visited with my husband in 2005. My Great Uncle had already passed. So had the aunt whose couch I slept on. But, the memories all came rushing back. Although the country had changed substantially since I left, so much was the same. It took me right back to when I was 19.
 
In two weeks, I will return to Israel. It will be 25 years since I pleaded with my mother not to send me to a sand dune. I expect (and hope) that this two week trip is just as magical as that unplanned, impulsive, and completely incredible year in 1985 which changed me forever.
 
Abstract book cover with text and watercolor.
Uncategorized October 12, 2011

Sukkos and Buh-Bye For a Couple Weeks

Sukkos arriveth.

I just love Sukkos!!  The relief after the intensity of the high holidays.

The most spectacular season of the whole year.

My Sukkah!  Wow, I just love my Sukkah.

Sitting in the Sukkah at night… sipping butternut squash soup… wrapped in a wool pashmina… talking and laughing with family and guests… hearing the neighbors singing holiday songs in their Sukkahs around us… it’s a magical time.

Wishing all of my readers a beautiful holiday, if you celebrate.  If you don’t, try to visit a Sukkah over the holiday – seeing is believing.

And this, friends, will be my last post till November 6th, as I fly away to the most Holy Land the day after the holiday ends – October 23rd.

Can’t wait to celebrate, can’t wait for Israel, see you all on the other side.

Shalom, Chag Sameach (happy holiday).

Sparkling 15 with "Year of Healing" text.
Uncategorized October 11, 2011

Respect Your Elders

One of the hugest things I was raised with is the very important concept of respecting one’s elders.

Yes, I know we all are, but it was like in technicolor, 24/7.

There’s a grandparent in the room?  They get the best seat and the most attention.

A parent says something?  You hop to it, pronto.

The younger you are, the less honor and veneration you get.

The older you are, the closer you are to the Sinai experience, and therefore, the holier you are – by definition.

Yes, I was a normal child, and didn’t always agree or like the things my parents did.  But boy, did I know to be careful with how I expressed that.  Not because I was angelic, and not because I was punished or intimidated or anything unhealthy like that, but it was part of the air I breathed that this was a core and central part of being a Jew and a mentsch.

Now I’m trying to raise my kids this way.  It’s not always easy, or guaranteed.  But the results are priceless.  And the only reason it works is because it’s a third party – God.  He made up these rules, not me.

There’s the rub, right there.

White kitchen mixer on granite countertop.
Uncategorized October 10, 2011

Points Along the Ortho-Spectrum

One of the biggest mistakes people make about the “Orthodox” is that we’re all the same.  Or all Hasidic.  Or all Joseph Liebermans.  Well, just like lots of other things in life, it’s all about a continuum.  Points along the spectrum.

I will not attempt to speak for any of these groups, since I do not reside in all of them, but will instead offer very superficial distinctions between them.  What I would love is to have members of these various groups speak for themselves, so if you identify as one of them, give me a holler and perhaps you would guest-blog for me. It may be anonymous, if you’d like.

For example:

1. The most intense form of Orthodoxy is Hasidism.  Also called Chassidism.  Chasidim wear special clothing that makes them immediately visible as such, and believe in a tremendous warmth and passion in Judaism as well as insularity – sheltering themselves from external influences and secular culture as much as possible.  Many speak Yiddish as a first language.  Here’s where you’ll find the fur hats, called “shtreimlach” and the curly sidelocks, called “peyos.”

2. Together with and separate from Hasidism is Chabad-Lubavitch.  Chabad is a form of Hasidism, but their primary focus is outreach to fellow Jews to inspire them in Judaism, as opposed to insularity.  Chabad is famous for stopping people on the street to perform a mitzvah such as laying tefilling or shaking a lulav and is incredibly idealistic, self-effacing, and devoted in their mission, even moving to far-flung areas such as (famously) Mumbai, Shanghai, or Chile to be there for fellow Jews searching for meaning, inspiration, or just a warm hello and some home-cooked kosher food.

3. We now arrive at the “yeshivish” community.  They are easily spotted by the black hats, suits and white shirts at all occasions.  More on the yeshivish community here.

4. The next group would be “regular” Orthodox. They don’t wear the black hats.  They don’t only dress in “black-and-white” either.  The guys might wear khakis, colored shirts, and jeans while in casual mode.  The women are harder to distinguish from category #3. Good luck with that.  Some people find themselves fluctuating between various groups, too, or living somewhere between.  They may have a TV or allow moderate forms of secular culture in their homes and lives.

5. Modern Orthodoxy is a group that believes passionately in Religious Zionism, in embracing secular culture and being a part of the larger world for the purpose of creating a “kiddush Hashem” – showing the world that you can do both.  Senator Lieberman, I believe, identifies as Modern Orthodox.

What do you say, readers?  Would you agree with my breakdown?  Offer your own?  Have something to add or subtract?  Would love to hear about it!  Per the nature of my blog, if there is disparaging or rude comment made about another group, it will not be published.