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why Orthodox Jews do what they do Archives - Page 5 of 17 - Out of the Ortho Box
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why Orthodox Jews do what they do

Uncategorized January 14, 2013

Guest Blogger: Meet Kate – A Skeptic Becomes a Convert

 While checking out my blog stats one day, I noticed I’d gotten some traffic from a site called “chbagi.blogspot.com.”  (Don’t worry.  I can’t see WHO finds me, just how many and from where.)  Intrigued, I clicked on it, to discover a lovely blog by one Kate, a recent convert to Judaism.  I scrolled through some posts and just warmed to her message.  I tried commenting on her blog but couldn’t find a way to do so, so I emailed Kate my comment.  I also posted one of her pieces on my Facebook page where quite a discussion ensued, so I found Kate on Facebook and tagged her.  
Now we’re friends.  Facebook agrees.  Of course, the next natural step was to ask Kate if she’d guest blog for me.  And here she is:
The number one question I am asked once people
discover I’m a convert is, “Why Judaism?” Actually, scratch that. The first
thing they want to know is when I’m getting married, a natural presumption
given many converts’ introduction to Judaism through a relationship. As I
explain to them, in my particular case I didn’t fall in love with a man; I fell
in love with Judaism. And I’m happy to tell anyone willing to listen (or read)
why.
This time three years ago, I was still about five
weeks away from finding it. If you had asked me if I was happy, I would have
answered, “Of course!” I loved my life in Chicago, and according to most
modern-day standards, I had everything that was supposed to make a person
happy. Certainly I thought religion was the last thing I needed, as I
associated all religion with my Christian upbringing. I began having major
issues with Christian doctrine (Read: Sending people to hell) in my early teens
and subsequently distanced myself from it. Even with a couple of Jewish
boyfriends later, I never bothered to study Judaism, because I thought if I
disagreed with A, B, & C in Christianity, I’d really have a problem with
A-Z in that harsh religion of laws. So imagine my surprise in late February
2010, when I began researching my paper on Judaism for a Religion course and it
was absolutely nothing like what I had been taught it was. The more I read, the
more I realized how much Judaism matched up with what I already believed, e.g.
people have a good side and a bad side, and can freely choose to make the world
better or worse. Miss
“Spirituality-Yoga-Organized-Religion-Is-Bad-I-Do-Whatever-I-Want” suddenly
agreed with an organized religion. Oh. Uh-oh.
Chalk it up to denial, but after finishing my paper,
I kept reading with the specific intention of waiting for the other shoe to
drop. I really and truly believed that I would find something I disagreed with
and be able to go back to my comfortable existence. When that didn’t happen, I
thought I would try keeping Shabbat, to see if I could walk the walk. I thought
for sure that this would be the dealbreaker that would let me off the hook; I’d
get bored two hours into Friday night and be able to say it just wasn’t for me.
If you’re waiting for the part where I fall in love with Judaism, I promise
it’s coming.

If I was going to test the waters, I was going to do
it right. I obviously didn’t know everything about Shabbat—I didn’t even know
there were special candles—but I knew it involved food, so I bought and
prepared all of my favorites, scribbled down the blessing on a Post-it, and
waited for eighteen minutes before sundown. It’s hard for me to put into words
what I felt that night. I didn’t have timers for my lamps, because I had no
idea they were allowed—I just knew I couldn’t turn lights on or off. But it
turned out that I didn’t need them, because the rosy glow of the sunset and the
candlelight filled my apartment with light and me with a sense of awe. From
that first Shabbat, there was no going back, and I knew it. 
It wasn’t just about the beauty of Shabbat in those
25 hours. After a few weeks, I began noticing that I was more patient, more
aware of what mattered. This really speaks to the effects of the mitzvot
overall: with time, I was becoming
better. I started to see that this organized religion wasn’t judging or
oppressing me; it was freeing me to live up to my full potential. It was why I
refused to resign myself to only 7 laws, even as the Rabbi insisted that it
would be a much easier life. “And what kind of person would I be,” I argued,
“If I believed in something but gave it up because it wasn’t easy?”
I ask myself that question again all the time, as
becoming officially Jewish wasn’t the end of the struggle. Like Jacob and the
angel, I wrestle with other Jews, I wrestle with G-d, I wrestle with myself.
Sometimes I stubbornly push against the mitzvot that I fought so hard to be
able to perform as a Jew, but like a lover after a quarrel, I always come back.
And when someone asks me, “Why Judaism,” I know exactly how to answer. Because
it works. I lived with myself for years before finding Judaism. I know who I
was, and I know who I am now. Still imperfect, but better than I was three
years ago, and always striving to improve.
Uncategorized January 8, 2013

Disillusioned

Dear Ruchi,


I am so confused I don’t know what to think.  When I started studying about Judaism with you, it sounded so beautiful, sweet, and positive.  I met so many nice people who warmly welcomed me into their homes.  I wished I could have that Shabbat experience, faith, and love in my home.


Now it is a few years later.  I have become much more observant, maybe even what you would call “Orthodox.”  I see the flaws in the community.  I see that lots of people are not sweet or warm.  I see judgmentalism and rudeness.  I feel kind of deflated.  Why didn’t you tell me?


Sadly,
Disillusioned

Dear Disillusioned,

Let me begin by expressing my dismay at your disillusionment.  You seem not only dejected and therefore possibly stunted in your Judaism, but also that you feel I have done you a disservice by not opening your eyes to the flaws and difficulties of observant life in advance.

WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME

Imagine that you are dating a guy that you are really excited about.  Finally, you feel like maybe this is Mr. Right.  He’s kind, sweet, thoughtful.  You meet a married girlfriend for coffee and fill her in on your life.   She says, “Oh, honey, they all start out that way.  Let me tell you what married life is REALLY like.  He’ll leave his stinky socks on the floor and gain 15 pounds.  He’ll ignore you when the football game is on and burp loudly even though you hate it.  There are going to be times that you’ll wonder why you ever thought this was a good idea.  And THAT,” (she drops her voice ominously) “is with a GOOD man.”  (Deep, long-suffering sigh.)

Has your friend done you a service or a disservice?  Is she right?

Another analogy:

You schedule a meeting with a new school for your kids.  You meet the director of admissions who shows you around, and extols the virtues of the school.  You ask good questions and get good answers.  You like the look and feel of the school.  Everyone seems to really like it there.  You join.

After a few months you start to notice it’s not all roses.  There seems to be some underlying tensions between some of the administrators that filters down to staff satisfaction.  Some of the policies of the school don’t sit well with you.  But you still like the school in general, and are happy to spend the extra money to send your kids there.

Was it the job of the director of admissions to inform you of the politics and every policy of the school?  If a friend would have filled you in on all the behind-the-scenes negative stuff, is it a favor?  Is it right?  Would it have changed your opinion?

GIVING UP ON THE ORTHODOX

Is there any institution, school, company, family, religion, community, city, that doesn’t have flaws?  That doesn’t have negativity?  That doesn’t contain people who aren’t good role models?  Does that mean the institution or community is inherently flawed?

Here’s what Elie Wiesel said on the subject:

“A credo that defines my path:


I belong to a generation that has often felt abandoned by God and betrayed by mankind.  And yet, I believe that we must not give up on either. 


Was it yesterday – or long ago – that we learned how human beings have been able to attain perfection in cruelty?  That for the killers, the torturers, it is normal, thus human, to act inhumanely?  Should one, therefore, turn away from humanity?


The answer, of course, is up to each of us.  We must choose between the violence of adults and the smiles of children, between the ugliness of hate and the will to oppose it.  Between inflicting suffering and humiliation on our fellow man and offering him the solidarity and hope he deserves.  Or not.”

— Open Heart, 2012

You wonder why people in the Orthodox community are flawed.  It’s because humanity is flawed.  But let’s not give up on Torah, on mitzvah observance, on humanity.  You may wonder why the religion didn’t “make” those people better.  It’s because religion can’t “make” anyone anything.  A
religion can’t make someone better, because he has to do the work to bring it
from his head to his heart to his actions. Free will is the arbiter
here and I don’t think anyone would want it taken away.

So, to my dear burned out friend.

Remember the day you discovered your parents weren’t perfect?  Didn’t know everything?  Wasn’t that devastating?  But now you probably see that although they’re not perfect, they did much good and taught you a lot.

WHO ARE THE “REAL” ORTHODOX?

I hope that you can see the meaning and beauty in the life that Torah outlines despite the fact that not all its adherents lead wonderful lives.  I could extol the virtues of the mitzvah-observant “lifestyle” and even its community with so many examples of truly incredible people who lead beautiful and wonderful lives, both in and out of the limelight.  But this is neither the time nor the place to do so, because you know they’re there.  You’re not talking about them.  You’re talking about the others.

Who are the “real” Orthodox?  The great role models you encountered at your gateway to observant life, or the poor role models that you met later on in your journey?  I can’t answer that because Orthodoxy is a human invention.  But I will say this:

To the extent that a Jew is following Torah, his actions will be beautiful.

Because the same Torah that says to keep kosher, enjoins us not to judge those that don’t.
And the same Torah that says to have humility and modesty begs us not to gossip about those that don’t.
And the same Torah that pleads with us not to neglect Shabbat forbids us from embarrassing another human being.

When you find Jews who are keeping all the man-to-God commandments, and are neglecting the man-to-man commandments, you have the most toxic, ugly mix possible.  You have a classic chillul Hashem (desecration of God’s name).  You have before you a person for whom there is a total disconnect.  For whom his relationship to God is stunted, confused, or dead.  For whom Judaism is in his body but not in his heart.  Maybe he is keeping the external ritual laws out of habit or social pressure, but this is incomplete and warped Judaism.

But this is the human condition.  You are disillusioned, yes, because to think that Orthodoxy can magically transform us from all our human flaws of impatience, rudeness, judgmentalism and the rest – is, indeed, an illusion.  When you sign up for Orthodoxy, you don’t buy a KGB of rabbis who force you to comply with anything.  You’re on your own, there.  And if you want to keep Shabbos and be rude, yes, you will have the free will and the space to do just that.

WE ARE REAL PEOPLE

Did you know that Orthodox people struggle with the same character flaws as everyone else?  WE ARE REGULAR PEOPLE.  We are trying, but we’re not perfect.  We are learning, but we may not always apply what we learn.  We are all different.  We are not lumpable together.  Our rabbis and teachers constantly tell us not to judge.  Although we sometimes fail, can we try together to succeed?

I know we’ll both be richer for it.

Uncategorized December 26, 2012

To Bagel

My husband was on the West Side of Cleveland (where there are very few Jews) for a bris appointment with new parents.  On the way home, he stopped by a pharmacy to pick up a few items.  The man standing behind him in line leaned in and said, with a distinctive New York accent:

“Ya can’t even get a decent knish around here!”

Bingo, husband.  You’ve been bageled.

Bageling is when a person wants an obviously “Jewish” looking Jew (ie, wearing a yarmulke, buying latke mix at the grocery) to know that he, too, is Jewish.  I’ve been bageled numerous times, and I’ve bageled others too (they don’t always appreciate it).  I love it when people bagel me because it gives me the opportunity to connect with a fellow Jew, but more, it shows me that this person is proud of his Judaism and wants to connect too.

My brother was in an airport once and a guy came over to him and simply said, “CHOLENT!”  I’m not kidding you.  That was the bagel.  That guy wanted my obviously Jewish brother to know that he, too, was a fellow member of the tribe.

I was at the Children’s Museum in Baltimore on a Friday afternoon and looked at my watch, motioning to my kids that we were going to get ready to leave.  The woman sitting next to me said, “It’s almost Shabbos – we better get going too!”  It was important to her that I know that she was cognizant and observant of Shabbos.

On the flip side, I was at a bank opening an account, and the the man helping me out was wearing a nametag that read, “Josh Goldstein.”  He asked me, among other things, my mother’s maiden name, which is very Jewish-sounding.  He seemed like a pretty friendly guy, so I told it to him, smiled and said, “Can’t get a more Jewish name than that!”  He seemed a bit uncomfortable with the bagel.  Maybe it felt off to him professionally.

Another bank teller in the branch I always frequent has a very Jewish name.  Before Rosh Hashanah I was in there and I was thinking, “Should I wish him a Happy New Year?”  I spent the whole time in line pondering this question, and when I finally got to the front, mustered up the courage and wished him a Happy New Year.  His face lit up and he wished me one right back.

To bagel or not to bagel?  Do you like being bageled?  Have you ever bageled someone else?  Good or bad results?

Uncategorized December 23, 2012

Tomayto, Tomahto – Shabbat, Shabbos

It has long bothered me that among fellow Jews, even our common language has built-in divisions:

Shabbos, Shabbat
Tallis, tallit
Sukkos, Sukkot
Bat mitzvah, bas mitzvah

I wish we could just ascribe a “tomayto, tomahto” attitude here, but it seems there are some deep attachments to one’s familiar ways of hearing and saying Hebrew – and some consciously overt preferences as well.

These divisions are generally characterized as “Sephardic and Ashkenazic,” but it’s not that simple.  For one, the modern state of Israel, populated in large numbers by Jews of Ashkenazic descent, employ the “Sephardic” pronunciations, using the “t” sound wherever the Hebrew letter “tav” appears, as opposed to pronouncing some of them (grammar-dependent) as an “s.”  Also, the Reform movement, and possibly the Conservative movement, or at least parts of it, employ the Sephardic pronunciation as well, even where its leaders or adherents are of Ashkenazic descent.  I am unsure why this is.  Perhaps to identify with the state of Israel?

According to Rabbi Joe Blair:

As a way of integrating and welcoming the refugees from the Muslim
lands, the State of Israel decided to institute the practice of teaching
Sephardi pronunciation as the official Hebrew spoken in Israel. Most
Hebrew speakers today use this pronunciation. There is a still-sizeable
number of Ashkenazi Jews who have chosen to remain with that
pronunciation; in particular, the Orthodox (and as some would call them,
the ultra-Orthodox) have chosen to hold to the Ashkenazi pronunciation.

This is interesting, because there were Ashkenazic refugees as well.  I think that somehow along the way the Ashkenazic pronunciation became associated with the “old-style” Jew, the “shtetl” Jew – and perhaps this was not the image the state of Israel wished to retain.

When my family lived in Israel for five years, we spoke modern Hebrew, the “Sephardic” way – and I got so used to this that when we returned to the states and put our kids in schools where the “s” sound was used instead, it sounded so odd to my ears.  Yet, in Israel, I often felt on the defensive if I inadvertently slipped into the “s” version – like I was outing myself as a hopelessly outdated Jew.

Now I use whatever word I think my fellow conversant is most used to.  Here on the blog I flip back and forth.  When I see someone approaching, I wish them “Good Shabbos” if I think they might be more used to that, or “Shabbat Shalom” if I think that’s their thing.  Of course, my split-second assessments are often wrong.  Sometimes the approacher corrects me and greets me with the “right” version.  If I’m greeted, I simply return the greeting as it’s offered to me.

So to you, readers, I ask:

Are the different pronunciations such a big deal?  What do they mean to you?

Uncategorized December 19, 2012

Fiddler on the Roof: an unfavorite movie

I’ve learned that Fiddler on the Roof is one of those universal “Jewy” references that people love to, well, reference.  In fact, I’ve definitely referenced it a few times right here.  And truth be told, that movie has brought me to tears – tears of deep emotion around our beloved traditions, children coming of age, the inevitable assimilation of some of our children, the endless anti-semitism.  And, too, it has made me laugh so hard I’ve had tears in my eyes (the dream scene!).  The music is absolutely magnificent both thematically and musically.

So why is it my unfavorite movie?

Here’s what I think.  See, my grandmothers, who are (thank God) still alive, remember the shtetl.  But as I suspected all along, and unscientifically “confirmed” in my recent research project on the subject, most Jews in the world do not have a living relative who remembers living in the shtetl.  So for most of them, impressions of the shtetl are largely formed by movies such as Fiddler.

What’s wrong with that, you may ask?

Well, a few things.

1. No one in that movie actually seems to know why anyone is keeping any of the Jewish observances.

The trademark song “Tradition” basically says, we have no idea why we do these things, but it’s our tradition so we’ll do them anyway.  Now, I have no need to romanticize life in the shtetl (just as I have no need to romanticize life as a modern-day Orthodox woman) but I do want the truth as I have experienced it to be told.

In my grandparents’ families, there was a deep education and connection with the meaning of the observances, such that my grandparents still recall and repeat today.  In fact, I feel that the movie disrespects their experience.  Of course I am sure that there were some families who just observed out of habit or social pressure, but an entire village?  Even the rabbi is a little clueless, which brings me to…

2. The rabbi is a fool.

Here are his most brilliant, sparkling lines, full of wisdom, depth and guidance (not).  This is still a problem today.  I see some “shtetl-era” books being issued for Jewish kids today.  Most of the time the rabbi is totally unkempt and stupid.  Again, some rabbis are unkempt and I’m sure that some rabbis don’t have particularly good advice, but for this to be the “shtetl-era” rabbi image emblazoned in the minds of your typical American Jew?  What happened to respect for our scholars and leaders, for our role models, and those more learned?  What kind of message is that for our kids?

My grandparents describe the utter reverence for their holy rabbis; the deep respect accorded them by the parents of the household; how the members of the shtetl would vie for the privilege of caring for their needs, hosting them in their homes, attending their lectures.  Where is any of that?  The question about waiting for the Messiah is a good one; why is no response given?

3. Yentl the matchmaker is a caricature but her impressions remains.

To this day when I tell people about how many in the Orthodox world meet and date they immediately think of Yentl.  Yentl of the ugly wife and the blind husband: a match made in heaven.  Granted, “dating” in the shtetl is not identical to Orthodox dating today, even when a “matchmaker” is employed, but I believe this image has damaged the reputation of the matchmaker, casting him/her in the role of “arranger of marriages” rather than how it really is today, which is “arranger of blind dates.”

I’m sure there’s more, but these are the top three that come to mind.  And lest you all think I’m just a Jewish humor grinch be it known that I love to laugh and think lots of things are funny.  But sometimes, I’ve learned, I think different things are funny or enjoyable than other Jews, because of my Orthodox orientation.  The “Jewish” things I find funny are more like inside Orthodox jokes, whereas I find “typical” Jew jokes corny.

And as far as Fiddler, I will end where I started: it’s a masterpiece and a classic.  And a bit sad, because for many viewers, this, and only this, remains the vision of our rich shtetl era.

Uncategorized December 17, 2012

Newtown

Jewish Response to Tragedy.  No.

When Bad Things Happen to Good People.  No, no.  You said you wouldn’t do that topic except in person.

So…maybe the best thing is to be silent after a tragedy of this magnitude?  But how can you remain silent and just go and blog about something else, as though it never happened?

Judaism certainly has many ideas to share about pain and suffering.  Yes, but is this the time to share them?

No.

Judaism teaches that one does not comfort the mourner while he is still burying his dead.  So what to do?

Be there.  Be present.  Show you care.  Don’t ignore it, but don’t offer words of consolation.

Okay.

Uncategorized November 29, 2012

Peyos – Sidelocks – Peyot – Sidecurls

Some think they all look like this:

But sometimes they look like this:

Or even this:

Boys and men are asked by the Torah not to “round off the corners” (peyot in Hebrew) of their faces (Leviticus 19:27).  The word peyos refers to sideburns — i.e. the hair in front of the ears
that extends to underneath the cheekbone which is level with the nose
(Talmud – Makkot 20a).  Maimonides explains that the prohibition of “rounding” prohibits the
removal of sideburns, by razor, tweezers or any other means.  It
is permitted to trim the sideburns, even very close to the skin, using
scissors. (Thanks to Judaism.about.com.)

So actually, most men are already keeping the mitzvah.

Why do some guys grow them long, curl them, wear them in front of the ears, or tucked behind the ears?

Once they are not being trimmed, some like to “adorn” or “embellish” the mitzvah by growing them long, making them look nice, and wearing them prominently.  Sometimes the way you wear your peyos is a symbol of identity with a particular sub-group within Judaism.  Some have a custom to let a boy’s hair grow until the age of 3 (another post), then cutting it in a festive ceremony, putting emphasis on leaving the “peyos.”

But you won’t be seeing this:

Ya just won’t.