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why Orthodox Jews do what they do Archives - Page 12 of 17 - Out of the Ortho Box
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why Orthodox Jews do what they do

Uncategorized November 18, 2011

The Danger of Being Orthodox

Note: the follow-up post on this subject is “What I’m Thinking When The Orthodox Make Headlines,” based on a query from one of my readers in the comments here.

When you’re identifiably Orthodox, you wear your religion on your sleeve.  Literally.  Either you’ve got a yarmulke or a long skirt but everything you do is a walking advertisement for or against your faith, and especially, your brand of your faith.

When you’re not part of a particular community, race, or culture, all “those people” appear alike to you.  You don’t know how to differentiate.  And Orthodoxy is no different.  So when “bad news about the Jews” hits the world, and in today’s tech society, it’s instant and viral, all Ortho-folk look bad.  Of course people are attracted to bad news like bees to honey.  Ever see a newspaper full of good news sell?

Controversial articles attract comments; car wrecks attract rubber-neckers; family drama attracts more family drama.  That’s how we are.

This week I attended two “very Orthodox” weddings.  As I looked around the room at the dancing, men and women each on their own side of the mechitza, black hats and all, I thought to myself:  I know almost everyone in this room.  They are good people, mostly.  Pretty much just trying to do their thing, raise good families, uphold basic values, make a decent living, and be faithful Jews.  Many are truly excellent people.  Exceptionally kind, humble, giving, forgiving, and busy dedicating their lives to helping others both organizationally and personally.  The emotions of joy, love and spirituality ran high in the room.

But then my brain switched to “outsider mode” (it does that often, with apparently no control on my part).  I wondered, if an outsider would walk in here, would they think us bizarre?  Odd?  Phobic?  Hateful?  Rude?

It’s painful.  And I’m not sure what to do about it.

What do you think?

Uncategorized November 16, 2011

Do You Crave Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups?

I have lots of friends that are baalei teshuvah.  This means they did not grow up Orthodox, but accepted a mitzvah-observant lifestyle in their teen or adult years.

I find it interesting to hear what they miss.  There are plenty of things they don’t miss – although this varies greatly from one person to the next.  Some don’t even want to think about their previous lives, while others look back with nostalgia.

One of my friends has a thing for cheeseburgers.  She seriously misses McDonald’s, Burger King – you name it.  While in Israel, the thrill of the chase for a kosher “cheese”burger is a treasured time.  Others miss the social opportunities, the clothing they no longer wear (and are possibly still hanging in the closet), or the ability to eat anywhere.

I’m not a baalas teshuvah.  I grew up observant.  But there are some things I did take on voluntarily in my adult life.  One of them is cholov yisrael.  Literally, it means “Jewish milk.”  Here’s the background: truly, all milk that comes from a kosher animal (cow, goat) is by definition kosher.  But back in the day, there was a temptation by some dairy farms to dilute their kosher milk with non-kosher milk (pig’s, for example) to save a buck.  Therefore, a rabbinic ordinance was instituted to only drink milk that was milked under Jewish supervision, to make sure no hanky-panky took place.  This milk was called “cholov yisrael.”

When Jews began arriving en masse to the USA, the facts changed.  The USDA regulated milking, and it was a crime to dilute the milk with other forms.  Therefore, it was as though the government was supervising the milking, and all USDA milk was considered kosher and usable.  However, some chose the extra stringency of cholov yisrael anyway, to maintain the custom.  The larger the Jewish commnity, the easier it is to obtain cholov yisrael dairy products.

My husband and I both grew up using plain old dairy products.  When we got engaged and planned to move to Israel, we decided to accept upon ourselves the extra restriction of cholov yisrael.  (In Israel, all the dairy is cholov yisrael… but then we moved to Buffalo Grove, Illinois.)  Practically speaking, what this meant for me was NO MORE REESE’S PEANUT BUTTER CUPS.  Now, this is a big deal.

When I go to the store and see them, I miss them.  In the airport, they talk to me.  At the BP store on a road trip, my mouth waters for them.  But I have never, ever craved a cheeseburger.

Interesting, no?

What’s your experience?

Uncategorized November 15, 2011

5 Excellent Reasons To Wear A Yarmulke/Kippah/Jew Hat

So that kippah thing that guys wear?  It has a coupla names.

  • “Kippah” is Hebrew.  It means “covering.”  Easy enough.  
  • “Yarmulke” is Yiddish, derived from the two Aramaic words “yarei d’malka” which means “reverence for the King” – like, you wear it to demonstrate that there’s someone above you.  Like as in Someone, like as in God.  This explains why guys are supposed to wear one – they are less likely to get that there is a God above.  More likely to believe that they are God’s gift to humanity – or God himself.
  • Epithets such as “beanie,” “Jew-hat” etc.  Fill in your own.  When you or your kid walk around in public with the thing on, you get some interesting comments!

So some people wear them full-time, and some wear them part-time, and some wear them for religious experiences only.  Here are 5 excellent reasons to don the thing.

  1. To cover your bald spot.  Interestingly, some men’s yarmulkes (I shall defer to this name as it’s the one I’m most used to) grow as their hair shrinks.  Draw your own conclusions.
  2. As an act of solidarity with men who have bald spots.  YOUR hair may be thick and the object of envy, but you don the yarmulke to show support to those friends of yours who have not much hair.  Who really has a bald spot?  Only your hairdresser knows for sure.
  3. Nervous habit.  Much more pleasant than biting your nails or clearing your throat, adjusting your yarmulke is the perfect nervous habit.  Whether you’re twisting it on your head (??), moving it higher, lower, or somewhere else entirely, just make sure you don’t give away what’s under it (see #2).  This works particularly well at uncomfortable meetings and while public speaking.
  4. Religious affiliation.  Your yarmulke declares where on the Ortho-spectrum you fall.  Black velvet?  Yeshivish.  White knit?  Modern-Orthodox/Religous Zionist.  Browns football motif?  Hmmm.  Not sure.  In any case, it’s a quick and easy way to avoid a theological conversation surrounding where your sympathies lie. Conversely, you can use this to keep ’em guessing.  One day wear one variety, and next another.  Show your open-mindedness. 
  5. Family ties.  Trying to get into Uncle Louie’s good graces?  Wear the green one from his kid Joey’s bar mitzvah.  Planning on asking great grandma for a loan for your new business venture?  Wear the pink one from her wedding.  Tip: pretend you didn’t realize you were wearing it.
What do you say readers?  Why do you, or don’t you, wear a yarmulke?
Uncategorized November 11, 2011

The Food… Oy, The Food

DISCLAIMER:  I am not a foodie.

One of my healthy foodie friends asked me the following question:

“What’s up with the world of traditional Jewish food?  Why is it so slow to change?”   Do you know what she’s talking about?  I will tell you.  Potato kugel, with lots of oil (yum!).  Cholent, with red meat.  Challah, that’s really cake.  Gefilte fish and chicken soup (double yum!).  Ooh, I’m making myself hungry.  Good thing it’s Thursday.

So I do try to be healthy and eat healthy, but seriously, the definition of what that is, is consistently changing.  Dairy: good/bad?  Eggs: good/bad?  Fish: good/bad?  When I have a new Shabbat guest, here’s what I used to ask:  “Any food allergies?”  Now, I ask: “Any food allergies?  Vegetarians?  Vegans?  Do you eat fish/eggs?  Gluten-free?”  So yeah, the playing field has changed.

Does “healthy eating” mean no potato kugel?  Cuz I can use sweet potatoes, less oil and no eggs, and guess what?  It ain’t everyone’s favorite potato kugel no more.  Yeah, yeah, it’s all about moderation… it’s not either/or, it’s “and”… I know all this.  Two factors, though, make it complex.

1. I have kids.
2. I’m a big believer in (cue Tevye) “tradition!”

So firstly, my kids have, ahem, strong opinions about the foods I cook and serve.  Especially for Shabbat and holidays, which are sacrosanct.  But moreover, *I* want my kids to get a huge dollop of tradition each time we celebrate these Jewish moments.

When I used to walk in from school on Friday afternoon, the house smelled heavenly!  Like challah, roast chicken, and that awesome potato kugel.  And you know what?  My love affair with Judaism oozes from what I’ve experienced with not just my mind, but all five senses.  What Shabbat smells like, tastes like, sounds like, feels like, and looks like are extraordinarily important.  My veins flow with this stuff.  And I want it to, for my kids as well.

How much can I tamper with the favorites till it’s just not traditional any more?

I know that many of you place a much lesser emphasis on “tradition” than I… some argue that change and progress are far more important.  But to folks like me, how to balance?

Thoughts?  Input?  Tips?

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!

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.

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.