Ortho-isms

To facilitate love, peace, and common language, below please find a list of common words and phrases in the Ortho-dialect:


1. Baruch Hashem 


Pronounced: 

Ba-RUCH ha-SHEM.  Often mispronounced as one word: "bruchashem."

It means:

"Blessed is God" and is often used to respond to the questions, "How are you?" "How was your day?" or "What's happening?"  It's meant to give thanks to God that we are doing OK, or even if we're not.  Depending on context and the speaker, it can be used synonymously with: "Great, thank God," "Terrible, thank God," or even "Let's not go there."

This phrase is important because:

It recognizes a basic belief in Judaism - that everything that happens comes from God and He must be thanked and recognized.

English alternative:

Thank God.  (Note: this too has the powerful ability to freak people out, as it contains the G-word, so tread carefully.)

Fun trivia: some newly religious Jews famously use this phrase as often as teens say "whatever"; many religious Jews have this phrase so ingrained in their instinctive vocabulary that they are completely unaware when their listeners have no idea what it means, and are, in fact, freaked out by its repetitive usage.


2. Im yirtzeh Hashem


Pronounced:

Im-YEAR-tzeh ha-SHEM.  Often mispronounced as one word: "MEAR-tza-SHEM."

It means:

"If God will desire it to be" and is often used in conjunction with making plans, large or small.  It's meant to acknowledge that, in fact, man plans and God laughs, or at least has a say in what actually will come to fruition and what will not, and that us humans are fallible and myopic.  Usage: "Sure, see you at Starbucks tomorrow at 3 then, im yirtzeh Hashem."  Or: "I would really like to become a surgeon one day, im yirtzeh Hashem."

This phrase is important because:

It recognizes that God is in charge of life.

English alternative:

God willing, please God (this is such a cute phrase; seems to be indigenous to South Africa.)  Note: this too has the powerful ability to freak people out; see #1.

Fun trivia:
Sometimes I will just think this phrase in my head and not actually say it, if I sense my audience may, indeed, freak out, but I don't want to be disloyal to my beliefs that this must be somehow acknowledged.


3. Bli neder


Pronounced:
Blee NEH-der

It means:
"Without a promise" and is often used when committing to do something, go somewhere, etc.

Usage: "I will make you two cakes for the party, bli neder."

This phrase is important because:
Judaism teaches that the words that come out of our mouths are powerful, and that if we don't stipulate that a vow is not intended, we may stand in violation of a promise made and not kept.  This is very serious in Jewish philosophy, so the phrase states clearly that this is not a promise and not a vow.

English alternative:

I'll try my best.


4. Vort


Pronounced:
Phonetically (!)

It means: 
"Word" and is often used to describe, believe it or not, an engagement party.  It literally refers to the "word" of Torah (the Hebrew equivalent would be "dvar [Torah]" which means a word of Torah) that the groom says at the party to make his fiancee so proud of the Torah scholar she is marrying.  Usage: "I'm out of town next week - I'm going to NY for my sister's vort."

This phrase is important because:
Marriage is a super-important milestone in Judaism, and the beginning of that journey is engagement.  So, we celebrate!  How?  With lots of food, and words of Torah.

English alternative:

Engagement party (but it doesn't really do justice).


Fun trivia: 
Non-Orthodox folk are generally surprised at how many vorts we go to!



5. Gut voch/shavua tov


Pronounced:
Gut VUCH (yiddish) or sha-VOO-ah TOV (Hebrew)

It means:
"Good week" and is used Saturday night after Havdala to wish one another that the upcoming week be a good one.  Usage: "Gut voch!  Shavua tov!  Who wants to go out for pizza?"  "Hi, gut voch - is there Sunday school tomorrow?"

This phrase is important because:
It is the transition from the Shabbat to the mundane week - it is also a blessing of goodwill - always appreciated.

English alternative: 

Have a great week (but it doesn't really do justice either).


Fun trivia: 
Saturday night, when this wish is generally offered, has its own special name: Motzei Shabbos - literally, the outcome of Shabbat.  Nice way to look at it.  I've heard that perhaps the reason that people have the "itch" to go out Saturday night (whether they've observed Shabbat or not) is that there is an "extra soul" that visits us over Shabbat, and it departs with Havdala, leaving us feeling kind of empty and itchy for action.


So, baruch Hashem that's it for now!  I'll post more of these, im yirtzeh Hashem in the future, bli neder - right after I get back from my sister's vort!
Shavua tov, all! 

What are your favorite Ortho-isms?

Ultra-Orthodox

Ever heard this term? What does it mean to you?

Mythbusters #2: Orthodox Women Are Second Class Citizens

Received this from a friend of an acquaintance of my husband's.

I don't know the questioner, but I do know she is a woman who has been doing some extensive learning about classical Judaism.

The questioner is referencing the recent controversy around ordaining Orthodox women rabbis and what title might be used therein.

The email is printed with all errors.  Since I don't know the questioner, I didn't want to alter her words at all.

"First of all - what is the big fuss about a woman having a title?? Maybe

it's because I grew up secular and am a grad student, but in my mind if a

woman does the same learning, she should at least be able to have some sort

of title attesting to that. It would be like me going to grad school and not

graduating with a degree. It looks like there are a few "orthodox" female

rabbi type people (Shlomo Carlebach ordained a couple I believe), and I

don't see what the big deal is. They aren't leading men in prayer, or doing

the minyan thing, they studied a long time, and they got some kind of

smicha.....why the controversy? Does it say in the Torah woman can't be

religious leaders?

"I spoke about this with Leah once and she said "well there are female

religious leaders, they are just called Rebbetzins" and also "why do women

need a title? just being learned is good enough to do lots in the

community"....yes BUT first of all, a Rebbetzin is married to a Rabbi and

gets that title through the her relationship not of her own learning merits.

Not to say there aren't great rebbetzins out there, but it is not a title

given due to completion of a rigorous program of study, nor is it something

the wife of a business man has ( no matter how learned she is). For the

second issue, I guess I just don't understand why they wouldn't be given a

title of some sort - they did the learning, they put in the work, why deny

them acknowledgment of that? Sure men learn without becoming Rabbi's, but if

she wants to work with people and be a religious leader full time why not

let her have a title that makes her work easier?

"Personally, I would be stoked to learn from a woman, especially the whole

bedika cloth thing and whatnot - she would be the natural person for that I

would think. I have an acquaintance down here that is a girl rabbi ( not

orthodox obviously ;), she is soooooooo freaking awesome - she has had this

amazing life - daughter of a rabbi from a long line of rabbi's, highly

educated, used to be an electrical engineer, sky diver, all around cool

lady, and super educated on jewish stuff....well educated to the extent she

found teachers to teach her. I just wish there were women teachers like that

in orthodox judaism. Anyways, if you can help me understand all this I would

be very grateful.

"I know I am writing with lots of crazy questions - but I love Judaism and am

soooo grateful to you guys for teaching us!!!! Just trying to understand

things that aren't making sense :)

Dear Friend,

I don't know you, and you don't know me.  But it sounds like you are right up my alley: curious, passionate, respectful, and honest.  I would like to respond to your questions, partially from a place of philosophy, but also from a place of personal experience.  I'm not asking you to like or agree with my ideas.  In fact, if you grew up secular in America in the past 40 years, it would be shocking for you to even be able to stretch yourself to hear me out.  All I ask is intellectual honesty to see that this position has validity.

You ask, "What is wrong with a woman having a title?"  The answer is, nothing, as long as it fits.  So should a woman be called, "Rabbi"?  Let us discover what a Rabbi is.  I am a mom; are you?  The title "Mom" is quite specific.  It refers to a woman who has either biologically given birth to or fostered or adopted a child and is usually raising him or her.  If a man biologically birthed a child (problematic verb right there) or fostered or adopted, is he a mom?  No, he is not a mom.  He can never be a mom.  He can be a dad, an uncle, a friend, but he can never be a mom.  A Rabbi, by definition, is a man.  How do we know this?

The Torah, yes, that very Torah that women want to hold, march with, read from publicly, study, and teach, has some very deep lessons about men and women.  These lessons are both timeless and timely which means that sometimes they may not sync with the trends of the day, but by the same token they will never, ever become obsolete.  In thousands of years of Jewish history, the Torah is still practiced and observed faithfully.

The Torah states that men and women have different spheres of spiritual influence.  A man's sphere of influence is in the external, public world, and a woman's sphere of influence is in the internal, private world.  This concept is alluded to in the kabbalistic, mystical sources; in the Talmud, in the midrash and the like.  This is the oral law, not the written law (the Talmud and its attendant commentaries).  But everything in the Talmud, et al, has a hook and a source in the written law.

The notion that men and women are hardwired differently is no secret to us married folk.  But in the world of spirituality, people somehow fail to understand that there are laws of physics.  Judaism is not just a warm and fuzzy blanket, full of feel-good moments.  It's not just haroset and matza balls.  Just as science, physics, and the USA have laws, Jewish spirituality has laws.  If you follow the laws you can reach a most exalted spiritual place.

The notion of external/internal spheres of influence affects both how men or women are influenced, and how they influence.  We see this difference in our very biological anatomy.  A man's anatomy, his life force, is external and visible.  A woman's anatomy is internal and private.  She accepts within her body the life giving force, nurtures it within, and creates life thereby.  This is not an accident.  All spiritual realities have their parallel in the physical world.

My friend, the Torah, yes, once again I reiterate, that very same Torah that everyone wants to hold, march with, read from, study, and teach, tells us that a man will find his main spirituality through public and external service, and that a woman will find her main spirituality through private and internal service.  What this means in practical terms in 2011 is that the public place of Judaism, the synagogue, is the place that men will shine, and the private place of Judaism, the home, is the place that women will shine.

Is one better than the other?  What's better, funner, cooler, more prestigious: to shine at the synagogue or to shine at home?

Do you see that the very question is flawed, my friend?  Our goal is not fun, coolness, or prestige.  It's spirituality. What better place to discover our set of instructions for spirituality than the very Torah we seek to disseminate?  Do you see the problem here?  The problem is not that women are lesser for shining in the private domain, the problem rather is that no one values the private domain simply because PRIVATE THINGS ARE NOT VALUED.

In our society, what glitters matters; secrets are freely shared; the moms, teachers, and other unsung heroes are simply under-appreciated and underpaid; and no one wants to be behind-the-scenes.  This is a serious indictment, not of Judaism or Orthodoxy, but merely of where our society's values have run amok.

Say you have a loving relationship with a friend.  The two of you are at a dinner party and you start recounting the funny story of your flat tire, and your friend rudely interrupts you.  This is completely out of character; you're stymied.  But you trust her, and she trusts you, so you are certain there is a good reason and that all will be revealed.

See, God and the Torah are my good friends.  In their company, I have always felt respected, valued, and appreciated as a Jewish woman.  Valued for my intellect and valued for my ideas.  Valued for having seven kids and valued for being a teacher of Torah.  If God is denying me the title "Rabbi," well, I trust Him.  He's never steered me wrong.  I know it can't be disrespect or denigration, because that would be entirely out of character and wouldn't jive with anything else that I know about Judaism.

My friend, I study as much Torah as I can.  I teach Torah and counsel couples in crisis.  I love God and try to bring others to love Him as well.  For all intents and purposes my job quite closely parallels that of a Rabbi.  But if you're not the mom, you're not the mom.  You can call yourself a mom and you can cook and clean and change diapers and volunteer at the preschool and do all the things that moms do, but if you're the dad, you're not the mom.

So what is my title?  Some call me Rebbetzin.  I think that's a funny title, because there are so many women more learned than I.  I don't want a title.  I don't need a title.  Guess what?  Any Rabbi becoming one for the title and prestige ought find a new job.  Glory-seeking and the rabbinate ought to be allergic to one another.

And too, I want to always remember that the God that I am supposedly serving in this whole endeavor has arranged things such that the internal, private sphere is my primary spiritual path.  I pray that I never forget.

With love,

Ruchi

10 Things To Do On Shabbat

It seems that everyone knows what we ortho-folk DON'T do on Shabbat.

Drive.

Tear toilet paper.

Cook.

Shop.

Check email.  Talk on our phones.  Listen to music.  Watch TV.  Oh yeah.  We don't have a TV.

But do we sit around in a cold, dark, silent house all day in a state of hunger?  On my no.

Here are some of our favorite Shabbat activities, and why we look forward to this day all week.

1. SCHMOOZE
It's the one day of the week when no one's rushing anywhere.  So we have time to catch up on all our leisurely conversations, fill each other in on stuff we experienced that week, share feelings and impressions, and just shoot the breeze with the kids in an unhurried, companionable atmosphere.  For people that love to chat (me) this is awesome.

2. SNOOZE
We go to sleep early Friday night.  We sleep in Shabbat morning.  We take a nap Shabbat afternoon.  Need I elaborate?

3. PRAY
OK, if you're not into God and stuff, just skip this one.  But for us, this is a special time to reconnect with our Creator.  We talk to Him, whether at synagogue or at home.  We have more time to focus on spirituality, and all the other distractions are stripped away.  At services, there's lots of special tunes and songs that say, in a very deep way, Shabbat is here again.

4. PLAY
We play games!  Our family favorites: currently we are obsessed with bananagrams.  Okay, I am.  And I make everyone else play.  We also like Secret Seven, card tricks, Backgammon, and Perpetual Commotion.  The kids like Risk, Monopoly, Life, and Othello.  Oldies but goodies.

5. EAT
We have three leisurely meals.  Sorry I keep using that word but it's so annoyingly accurate.  We enjoy Friday night dinner - it usually lasts two hours.  Remember: no sports.  No phones.  No texting.  No Facebook.  It's multi-course and wonderful.  Less famous is Shabbat lunch.  Also usually two hours.  This has the added advantage of involving cholent.  I may just need to devote an entire post to cholent.  Extremely un-famous: the Third Meal, aka dinner.  Also goes by its Hebrew name "Seudah Shlishit" (si-oo-DAH shlee-SHEET.  Translation: the Third Meal) and in the corrupted vernacular, "Shalushudis" (sha-li-SHU-dis).  That's a lot of food.

6. TREAT
No, this is not exactly the same as EAT.  We save most of our junk food indulgences for Shabbat.  Like Oreos.  Fruity Pebbles.  Doughnuts (my husband's personal fave) from Unger's or Lax.  Soft drinks.  Yeah, that's fun, once a week.  If we did it every day, it would be gross, unhealthy, expensive, and not appreciated. Once a week, it's our special Shabbat indulgence.

7. READ
This is the time of the week we sit around on the couch and read.  What do we read?  We get some Jewish periodicals that we save just for Shabbat.  Or re-read old favorites.  We might do some Jewish texts that we don't get a chance to check out during the week, when most of (my) reading takes place on my droid or PC.  I read books to the kids.  It's a whole culture of reading, and we love it.  We read after I light the candles and again after dinner, and again in the afternoon.  We work around the sleeping (see #2).

8. VISIT
I run across the street or next door to visit my neighbors for a spontaneous chat.  How quaint is THAT??  Or we sit out on someone's lawn.  Or we might walk over as a family to pop in on a friend.  No one expects you to call first; it's Shabbat.  So this is normal.  The kids run over to friends or their friends hang out here.  All unplanned, unscheduled and mutual.  Love it.

9. SING
OK.  I know for some people this is weirdness, man.  But Shabbat is like spiritual Woodstock for us (oxymoron?), every week.  We hang around during or after meals to... sing.  We hum wordless Chassidic tunes, sing Hebrew ditties from thousands of years ago, and do the Birkat Hamazon (also called "bentching" - this is Yiddish for blessing) which takes us like five full minutes and has tunes for every part of it.  We do slow songs with harmonies, fast songs with table-pounding, and everything in between.  Sometimes the kids learn a new song at school and teach it to us.  Disclosure: when we have guests that are unfamiliar or weirded out by this, we curtail the singing.  Wanna make everyone comfy.

10. STROLL
We take walks almost every Shabbat, no matter what the weather.  It might be just my husband and me, after dinner, or the whole family in the afternoon.  It might be to visit, or just to walk.  It might be five minutes, or two hours (see: weather).  We usually don't have a predetermined destination so the whole stop-to-smell-the-roses thing is just built in.

And the most important thing to do on Shabbat is just... to be.  As a very wise man once said, "The whole week we are human doings.  On Shabbat, we are human beings."

What are some ways your family makes Shabbat special?

I'm In a Relationship

If you freak out easily, stop reading now.

Every now and then, missionaries come a-knockin' on my door.  And I feel like telling them:  Hey.  I'm not looking for new relationships.  I'm already in a relationship.  With God.

It's a long-term relationship.  It started before my conscious memory began, and will continue after I die.

It's a mutual relationship.  I talk to Him (via prayer, both formal and spontaneous) and He talks to me (via Torah study).  I make promises to Him, and He makes promises to me.  I believe in Him, and He believes in me.

It's an unconditional relationship: in good times and bad times, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer.  Even in death we will not part.

Quick, take a sheet of paper.  Draw four circles on it - one for Judaism, one for family, one for work, and one for any hobbies that take up time in your life.  Draw the biggest circle for the most important relationship in your life, and subsequently smaller circles as the relationships diminish in importance.

My relationship with God is the biggest.

My next circle is my family.  My next is JFX, the Jewish Family Experience, and smaller circles include hobbies like music and writing.  My long-term relationship with God is the umbrella that shades all of these.  It colors how I spend my time, when I get a babysitter, how I express my feelings.

Why am I telling you this?  It's not to be hokey or weird or in-your-face, but rather to explain to you what I think ought to characterize an "Orthodox" or certainly a "religious" Jew.  This relationship motivates pretty much everything I do.  It's not only Baptists who have God in their heart and their mind every day.  It's OK for Jews to as well.  Yet most do not feel comfortable with being "out" about this relationship.  In my opinion, THIS is what it means to be an observant Jew.  Observant, not only of the mitzvos/mitzvot/mitzvas, but observant of one's relationship to God.  THIS is what the word "Orthodox" can't possibly express.

Make the following observation:  When you are in a long-term relationship with a human, you can't just do the right thing.  You have to feel the relationship.  And if you don't, you at least have to be working on it.  Else it will die.  This is the spirit of Judaism.  But if you just feel the love, but don't do the things that must be done in a relationship, you have the spirit only.  That's where the letter of the law is missing.  This, too, is an incomplete relationship, and one that is unsustainable.  Feelings alone cannot perpetuate a relationship.  And a relationship with a Higher Being is no different.

And if you feel freaked out... well, I warned you.

What do you think, fellow Jews?  Is it weird to think about these things?  Does it feel funny, foreign, uncomfortable?  Is it important to be thinking about these things?  How many Jews, do you think, are even thinking about the relationship?  And if you are in the relationship, are you comfortable with it?  Talking about it?  How much and to whom?

Don't You Have ANY TVs??

Ring, ring.

Me: Hello?

Telemarketer: Hey, is this Rochelle Koval?

Me: (Using my legal name is the kiss of death.)  Yes, it is.

T: Hey, this is Josh from Dish Network.  How ya doin' today, Rochelle?

Me: Just fine, thanks.  How are you?

J: Great, thanks for asking, Rochelle.  Hey, so we're over in your area giving some free estimates and we thought maybe we could hop on over and offer you an estimate for totally free satellite service.

Me: (How do you give an estimate for free service?) Well, actually, Josh, it happens that we don't actually have a TV.

PREGNANT PAUSE.

J: (Nervous chuckle) Um, do you mean you don't have a TV, like, yet?

No, I mean we don't actually own any TVs, by choice.

J: Don't you have even one TV?

Well, no, Josh, we don't have any at all.

J: So like, not even one in, like, your bedroom?

That's right.

J: Well, I mean, I'm just curious.  Is it OK if I ask why?

Sure.  We feel that the TV has a lot of language and values that we don't want our kids (and ourselves) hearing and seeing.

J: (In deep sympathy) I see.  Hey, well, Rochelle, you have a nice day now.

I will, Josh.  Thanks.  You too.

Do You Know What You Stand For?

Do you keep kosher?  Let’s say someone sat down next to you on an airplane.  Say, an evangelical Christian.  Or a Messianic Jew.  Or a completely unaffiliated Jew.  And saw you eating your own kosher-packed food.  And asked you:

“Why do you keep kosher?”

Could you answer the question?  Without hesitating?  Without stuttering?

If you pray daily, and were sitting on the plane next to someone, who asked you:

“Hey.  What is that hymnal?” 

What would you respond?  Could you, on the spot, articulate a coherent answer?

What if they just noticed a hamsa, or a chai, or that your name is Bergerstein, and asked:

“May I ask you something I’ve always wondered?  What do Jews believe?”

What would you answer?

What if they said:  Why is there so much fighting in the Land of Israel?  Is it true that different kinds of Jews don’t get along?  Why are you wearing a kippah?  What are those fringes [tzitzis]?

Recently I taught a class in which I challenged the participants to articulate one or two sentences that would express, whether to a child or adult, why it’s important to be and stay Jewish.  What would you say?  Do you know what you believe?  Do you know why you believe it?  Are you proud to be a Jew?

Or, as Dr. Suess might ask:  “What would you do if someone asked you?"

The Decision Every Woman Must Make

Okay, it's not "what to wear."

But it is related.

Every woman that I know has boundaries around what she will allow herself to wear.  Some things are just too low-cut, too tight, too skimpy, or too provocative.  At the same time, every woman wants to look and feel pretty, cute, and attractive.

This creates problems.  Because wherever you draw your line, chances are there are some clothes that will come awfully close to your boundary on either side - either it makes you look great, but it might be over the line, or it's within your line, but doesn't make you look as great as you feel you could look.

Welcome to the world of tzniyus.

The word "tzniyus" (TZNEE-yus), also pronounced "tzniyut" (tznee-OOT), is often mistranslated.  It's a very positive character trait, and is a combination of dignity, privacy, and self-respect.  Not oversharing.  No TMI.  Boundaries.  You may hear it translated as "modesty" which is only one aspect of this trait.  It applies to men and women in different ways and impacts every facet of reality, including, but not limited to, speech, thought, comportment, dress, and attitude.

When a woman in particular tries to incorporate tzniyus into her dress, she may find herself struggling with what looks good, but not too provocative.  This is very tough, because every woman has an individual sense of style, which is a good thing, and because the fashion world around us is so weird and capricious and markets women in incredibly stupid ways.

This is something I think about a lot.

On the one hand, I follow halacha [Jewish law], and it's my Bible (couldn't resist).  So tzniyus means skirts only, and covering my knee or longer.  It means tops will always cover my collar bone, and it means my arms will be covered till at least the elbow.  I'm proud that I dress this way.  I am indentifiable as an observant Jew and I feel self-respect towards my body.  But there are so many other dragons to slay.

How tight?  How bright?  How head-turning?  What am I trying to communicate about myself?  Am I succeeding?  I'm not immune to fashion; are you?  As the styles change, do my values?  Are pointy shoes really weird or do I just think they're weird because I haven't seen them enough?  Will pop culture change how I view my body image?  Is it better to look like everyone else, or is it important or healthy for me to be different?

Do you struggle with this, fellow females?  Where are your boundaries?  How do you deal?

Open Mic Friday: Kosher Room at Heinen's?

Okay, here's my question for you today.

1. Have you been to the kosher room at Heinen's on Green Road?
2. Do you keep exclusively kosher?
3. Do you like The Room?
4. Elaborate.

If you don't live in Cleveland, this is a separate "Kosher room" at our local grocery store. How would you like that?

And at the end, I'll weigh in :)

Have fun!  Good Shabbos/Shabbat Shalom!

Check Out My Guest Post

Hey readers,
Be sure to hop over to my friend Rivki's fun, funny, and thoughtful blog, lifeinthemarriedlane.com, for my guest post on women who inspire!  Thanks!

If "Orthodox" is Offensive, What About "Non-Orthodox"?

A friend of mine emailed me this:

Hi Ruchi,

I really wanted to talk to you in person but everything is so busy (which is all good). 

...I don't like being called "secular" or "non-observant."  To me, Orthodox means you keep kosher, the laws of family purity [mikveh], and Shabbos, which I know is simplified. The word "Orthodox" to me is not as offensive as the word  "non-observant" which isn't totally true.  My Reform and Conservative Jewish friends (classified by their shuls) practice Judaism in their own way. Maybe it is not okay to pick and choose but any of them make a contribution to the general society and to the Jewish community.  I see frum [observant] Jews upset with other frum Jews that are different from them.  I feel if you are not accepting, you are judging people, and that is wrong. That is why I don't like the word "non-observant" or "secular."  I totally agree with your blog.  I just wanted you to understand that putting anyone in a box is not good.  The outreach groups [JFX, JLC, Aish, Chabad] have totally brought all Jews together.  So thank you!  What a Mitzvah.

... It seems like when I was in Israel everyone was going on their own journey.  Some sheitels [wigs] and some scarves, some curly peyos [sidelocks] and some not.  Some wear kippahs and keep kosher and some just keep kosher.  ...But I realize there is tension between frum and secular.  

...Everyone makes their own contribution.  It hurts me that Jews don't get along.  Can't we all just get along??  I do believe there are Jews that don't observe anything.  This hurts me very much.  Maybe if I must in a "box" I should be "traditional" but I really don't mind being called Conservative because I conserve what I can, and outreach groups have helped me not stay still but strive to do more.  

Would you agree with my friend's assessment?

If you are not Orthodox, is there a name for you?  Are "non-Orthodox," "secular," or "non-observant" offensive?

Hypocrites

This post is inspired by Renee of Dr. Fried's office!


So yesterday my son had an orthodontist appointment.  Which means that Renee asked me about 50,000 questions about Judaism.  And she made a comment that really made me sad.

She said that some of her friends feel that Orthodox people are hypocrites.

I asked her what she means and she mentioned an example (I don't want to get specific due to the rules of lashon hara - gossip) where Orthodox people had done something wrong.

She said she thinks people expect Orthodox people to be "better than that," to be an example.  Or at least that if they consider themselves to be "better than other people" they ought to at least live up to that notion.

This is problematic both logically and morally.

1. A hypocrite is someone who preaches one thing, and behaves in a way that is different from what he preaches.  Not all Orthodox people are preachers.  If a rabbi misbehaves, or a teacher of Torah, OK - that's hypocritical.

2. Otherwise, this is called being "inconsistent."  All humans are inconsistent.  Does anyone ALWAYS speak kindly?  Act morally?  Eat healthfully?  Of course not.  Some people gossip but eat kosher, others refuse to gossip while sitting at a non-kosher restaurant.  Both of these are inconsistent - but not hypocritical.  And still far better than doing neither.

3. The epithet "hypocrite" is very strong and negative, and should be used sparingly and carefully.

4. Just because someone is Orthodox, doesn't mean he has a strong relationship with God or with a rabbi, which are things that will help deter bad behavior.

5. Judaism requires us to give the "benefit of the doubt" in a given situation.  That means if we see something that seems odd, we are required to say, "maybe they don't realize that's wrong, maybe I don't have the whole picture..."  Otherwise, this is called being judgmental, which is perhaps just as bad as being hypocritical.

6. Anyone who is identifiably Jewish has a responsibility to understand that his actions will serve as an assumption point for all Jews of his affiliation.  So if you're wearing a kippah/yarmulke, you'd better be driving courteously.  If you're wearing a headscarf, you'd better wait in line patiently at Heinen's.  Because right or wrong, others will judge all religious Jews by your actions.

And finally, we have to recognize that as Jews, we are constantly being assessed by the non-Jewish world.  How do we want them to view us?  To treat us?  Are we treating each other that way?

What are your thoughts on hypocrisy among Jews?

Mythbusters #1: Orthodox girls are not allowed to get Bat Mitzvahed

When did Bat Mitzvah become a verb?

The first time someone asked me if I "got Bat Mitzvahed" I had no idea what she was trying to ask.  Was she asking if I turned 12?  Was she asking if I had a party?  Why did this question appear to be fraught?  Was it a trick?

When I answered, "Yes, of course I had a Bat Mitzvah," the reaction was invariably one of surprise.  Then came the kicker: "So you read from the Torah and everything?"  Now I was thoroughly confused.  No, I didn't read from the Torah.  Was that supposed to be The Important Thing?

Clearly, we were speaking two different languages.

As I was growing up, say, 6, 7, 8, 9, etc, I was raised to understand a few basic tenets about life and Judaism.

1. God (we called him "Hashem" which is Hebrew for "the Name") was a very strong presence in our lives.

2. He is a national and personal God.

3. There are all kinds of mitzvot/mitzvos we do (give tzedakah, eat in a Sukkah, pray) and all kinds of things we don't do (gossip, drive on Shabbos, eat cheeseburgers), in accordance with the Torah, which is God's guidebook for us.

4. When we would turn 12, and for boys 13, on our Hebrew birthdays, we would, according to the Torah, become responsible for our behavior in the eyes of God.

5. This is a big deal.

For awhile I thought the whole Torah thing was perhaps a ploy by the Adults to make us behave; I wondered if at my Bat Mitzvah my mother would tell me it was all a sham, but I should be sure to perpetuate the trick to the next generation to get them to obey their parents, not fight, etc.

I was wrong.

But many things were "practice" for post Bat Mitzvah.  For example, if I skipped my daily prayers before my Bat Mitzvah, it wasn't such a big deal, but after my Hebrew birthday, I understood that it really counted.  If I fought with my siblings prior to my Bat Mitzvah, well, that wasn't nice, but it was all really a rehearsal for post Bat Mitzvah, when my accounting in Heaven would begin.  Yes, I knew all this at 12, as did my friends.
The actual celebration of The Day was a big deal, and fun to plan.  My grandparents came in from out of town and we invited my friends and classmates to my home.  My mother and I planned the menu and program.  We had a delicious homemade dinner - all my favorites - and I got a new dress.  I said a Dvar Torah from my parsha and we took lots of amateur pictures.  I was happy.

But the main part was what would take place after - I was a grown-up in God's eyes, responsible for my decisions and moral choices.

It never occurred to me to need more.

Yes, my brothers had a Bar Mitzvah.  Yes, there were more guests than at my Bat Mitzvah.  Yes, they read from the Torah.  No, I was not jealous.  Can I explain this?  Here are some thoughts.

1. Just like the guy gets a bigger fuss at the Bar Mitzvah, the girl gets a bigger fuss at the wedding.

2. Somehow I just knew it wasn't about the party. The party was so secondary to the real thing, which was life.

3. When you're full, you don't crave someone else's food.  I had a rich upbringing.  My Judaic smorgasbord consisted of rich customs, intellectual offerings every single day, deep emotional connections to my faith, and very clear guidance on the very deepest questions of life.  Why am I here?  What is my soul?   What does it all mean?  I was offered answers to all these questions and to others I hadn't even thought of.  Reading from the Torah paled in comparison to living, breathing, and feeling Torah in my every pore.

So... yes, I was Bat Mitvahed!

Were you?

Newsflash: We are more alike than different by guest blogger Sindy Warren

My friend Sindy rocks.  She is a loving mom, a power attorney, a fellow blogger (she inspired this blog), and an insatiable learner.  I'm a big fan of hers.  Definitely check out her blog.  And Sindy says:

I’m new to this observant Judaism stuff.  Less than a year ago I had my first ever exposure to “Orthodox” Jews.   I had literally never met one before.  Which is kind of strange, given that I’ve been Jewish my whole life.  Temple on the high holidays, bat mitzvah at age 13, a ketubah when I got married, the whole nine yards, at least in my community.  When it came to Orthodox Jews, though, I thought they were totally different from me.  Why did I think this?  Lack of exposure probably, more than anything.  And making silly assumptions based on superficial things, like the way we dress.

This past year I’ve come to know differently.  The observant Jews I’ve had the pleasure to get to know are funny, smart, cool, and care about the same things I do: family, friendships, loving relationships, personal growth.  What’s more, they know way more about how to cultivate these things than I ever have.  So I’m learning.  A lot.  I’ve even been inspired to start a blog based on my Mussar learning.

One more thing I should point out, and interestingly enough, this relates to the theme of Ruchi’s last guest blogger: the Orthodox Jews I’ve come to know are incredibly accepting and non-judgmental.  I’ve never felt like my lifestyle choices are being judged.  I’ve shared intimate and not at all flattering details of my personal life, only to be met with understanding and assistance in my quest to grow, do better, and be better.  I feel privileged to be on this spiritual journey under the tutelage of wise and loving teachers, and I’m grateful for the fact that my eyes have been opened to this essential truth: we are far more alike than we are different. 

    

Open Mic Friday: Shabbat Poll!

Welcome to Open Mic Friday!
Today I'm taking a poll.
Q. What does your observance or celebration of Shabbat look like? What traditions or customs did you follow growing up, if any, and which are in place today? Has your Shabbat experience changed over the years?

Thanks, readers!
Shabbat Shalom/Good shabbos!

The 10 Things I Want My Shabbat Guests to Know

If you've ever hosted or been hosted at an "Orthodox" Shabbat dinner, this one's for you.
At our last JFX Shabbaton, we had a skit called "Friday night live."  We played out the incredible misunderstandings and confusion that can arise when Jews for whom Friday night might mean Chinese and a movie are invited to experience an "Orthodox" Shabbat dinner.  It was hilarious.

For those of you that are not familiar, Shabbat-observant folks do not activate electricity or cook or a host of other creative activities, many of which may be surprising to you, on Shabbat.  They have dinner that also involves singing (not kumbaya), "washing" (not with soap), "benching" (that doesn't involve a bench) and some other quasi-freaky stuff.  To be sure, the dinner is usually delicious, the atmosphere divine (assuming the kids don't fight too much and the guests don't radically disagree about politics and you haven't mistakenly seated a doctor and attorney directly across the table from one another), the guests and hosts well-meaning, etc.  Nevertheless some clarity is in order, as expectations and assumptions on either side may well be.... insanely divergent.

Here are 10 things I'd like MY Shabbos guests to know:

(As an aside: I use the terms Shabbat and Shabbos interchangeably; both refer to the Jewish Sabbath as it is observed according to Jewish law from sundown on Friday or even a bit earlier, to nightfall on Saturday night.)

1.  I know you may have driven to my home.    It's a little awkward, because I don't drive on Shabbos, and you do.  The question of whether a Shabbat-observant Jew is allowed to invite a fellow Jew over on Shabbat, when it's obvious that he will drive, is actually the subject of intense halachic debate.  On the one hand, better to drive to celebrate Shabbat than to drive to the mall - no?  On the other hand, may I be the instrument of the drive?  So "don't ask, don't tell" is the way we deal with it.  Because even if I follow the opinion that I can invite you despite the drive, it's much better if I don't have to give explicit permission.  Which is why I try to avoid the topic!

2.  I really appreciate the fact that you didn't park in my driveway.  When you parked around the block and walked, you may have felt like an imposter (did you?) but I viewed it as a respectful act of not wishing to disturb the Shabbat atmosphere that exists in the neighborhood.  Thank you!  And if you really did walk all the way - double thank you!  You've honored your hosts and Shabbat, all in one.

3. So the flowers you brought to dinner, and I kinda left them hanging out on the counter?  You're so sweet to bring them... but I can't put flowers into water on Shabbos.  It's part of the creative process of growing plants.  I felt uncomfortable, but didn't want to make you feel worse about not knowing, so I just decided to hope you didn't notice.  (Did you?)

4. It's really OK with me that your kids are coloring and playing piano, activities that are not allowed on Shabbat.  I know you don't observe Shabbos the way I do.  They're only kids.  My kids do that too, and I overlook it because they're only kids, even though mine ARE brought up with Shabbos.  Don't worry.

5.  Yes, you're allowed to flush the toilet on Shabbos.

6.  I'm a little hesitant to ask you if you'd like help with lighting candles or "washing" hands before challah.  See, if these customs are familiar to you, I don't want it to seem like I think you're ignorant.  But if they're not, I don't want to be a bad host and not offer you info and help.  It's hard for me to know how to strike the balance.  I'm not clairvoyant, so I don't know how much you know.  I hope you'll be OK with my mistakes.

7. If anything seems unusual, please ask!  It's not rude or disrespectful AT ALL (unless you're asking how much money we make... I trust you not to do that) and it makes me so happy that you are asking so the lines of communication can be open.  I don't want my life to be inscrutable to you.  Please feel free to ask.  Really. Really.

8. It's great when you involve my kids in the conversation.  See, I'm trying to strike the balance between paying attention to them and paying attention to you, so if you pay attention to them, it's win-win-win.

9. It's so sweet when you offer to bring something.  I know you don't keep kosher so please don't feel bad if I just ask you to bring flowers or dessert from a kosher bakery.  You might want to check with me which bakery is kosher because "Farbstein's Kosher Rugeleh Shop" may not, in fact, be kosher.  Also, many people serve meat or chicken at Shabbos dinner and therefore would not serve dairy at dessert, even if it's not together.  Just good to know.

10.  What we really want is for you to have a nice time.  Relax, don't worry so much about the rules, and just try to have fun.  We know you may not be familiar with the customs and that's OK!  We like you and that's what matters.

11. I know I said ten but I couldn't resist.  If you've spent time avoiding my invitation, deleting my email, ignoring my voicemail, and pretending you didn't check Facebook, please know that if you do, indeed, accept my invitation, you may actually have a very nice time.

What are some things you'd like your guests or hosts to know?

Shakin' in My Boots

Awkward:  I meet someone for the first time at a social event, and he sticks out his hand to shake mine.  I apologize and decline to shake, stating that, “It’s a religious thing; I don’t shake hands with men.”

VERY AWKWARD!

Let me explain.

Jewish law and tradition have a lot to say about relationships between men and women.

How to keep them monogamous.

How to keep them spiritual.

How to keep them fresh.

To put it bluntly, a physical relationship is only intended within the framework of marriage.

To this end, there is a whole huge lifestyle that goes along with living according the Torah’s directives in this area.  The basic logic is this: if boys and girls socialize, they will date.  If they will date, they will develop feelings for each other.  These feelings may or may not be real, mature, devoted, or sane.  A physical relationship will likely develop that will have nothing to do with one’s life partner.

Therefore, boys and girls in the Orthodox world, at differing degrees of intensity depending upon where along the ortho-spectrum one falls, are pretty much educated and socialized separately.

How about grown-up folks?

Well, since adult human beings are, erm, not immune to faithlessness, there are a number of guidelines in place to prevent unseemly or unwanted relationships from forming. 

Like not being alone with a member of the opposite sex unless you’re married.  Or immediately related.

Like not touching, unless same.

The general idea is that this is a safeguard, or as it’s referred to in Torah jargon, a “fence.”  To protect us.  From our very human selves.

“Question, Rabbi?

Handshaking is hardly a big deal.  I mean, it’s just like a business-like greeting.”

Answer:

You’re right, which is why many halachic (that which pertains to Jewish Law) authorities permit it.  But some do not.  My personal rabbi does not.  The logic is – what if hugs become the new handshake?  (And, um, I think they have.  Possibly even kisses.)  Then what?  So some say, a handshake is a handshake, and some say, don’t even get started.  Touch is touch.  If you’re not shaking hands, you’re setting a very clear boundary right there.  Which, in an era of increased harassment suits, may not be such a bad idea for anyone.

Lovely.

But I’m still shakin’ in my boots at the thought of shakin’.  Why?  Because it has so much potential for awkwardness.  If folks already think that as an Orthodox Jew, I am standoffish/snobby/weird, this may very well confirm it for good.  Also, you know when you try to high-five someone and they don’t connect?  AWKWARD.  No one likes having their hand hang out in mid-air like a piece of cold, unwanted, spaghetti.  Also, and possibly most importantly, I don’t want to make anyone feel bad.

So I pray they won’t extend the hand.  Maybe a smile and a “hi, pleased to meet you” will be enough.  Maybe I can balance a plate of hors-d’oeuvres and a glass and that will be my “no handshake available” signal?  Sometimes my husband and I try to stand near each other so we can do each other’s handshakes.  A bit odd, to be sure (no points in combating the “Orthodox Jews are weird” category) but at least not reject-ful.

Ideally, people who know us can warn their friends or family in advance that we have this fetish so no one will mistakenly extend their hand.  Not because it offends me (as many people erroneously believe) but because the last thing I want to do is offend another by rejecting his handshake, when all he is trying to do is be polite and social.

So let’s make a deal.

Let’s not be offended by one another.

Yay!

I think the shaking is subsiding.

Have you been on either side of the hand-shaking moment? 

Sad Day

Tonight and tomorrow.  Sad day.

I’ll be sitting shiva.

For the Temple.  In Jerusalem.

That I lost 2000 years ago.

I’ll sit on low chairs.  Not eat.  Not drink.  Not make small talk.

I didn’t know the Temple, much.

I’ve heard about it, though.

Seen the ruins.  Heard about the miracles.  Prayed for its return.

Cried, for the sorry state we find ourselves in today.  In spiritual disconnect and confusion.

Hard to mourn, for that which you never had.

That just makes it sadder.

To distract myself with blogging would be wrong.

I want to dwell on my shiva, not be distracted from it.

My fellow Jews, we are one family.  We all sit shiva together.

We need each other, for comfort and support.

Can’t afford to hate… to gossip… to vilify.

If we were sitting shiva for a person, would we, could we fight, while burying our loved one?

People do.

*Sigh.*

I pray for the return of my loss.

A rebuilt Temple.

A rebuilt Jerusalem.

A rebuilt relationship.

Between us and God.

Between us and each other.

Between us and ourselves.

Amen, may it be so.

There Was an Old Woman II

I once had the honor of watching a Sesame Street episode where Kermit the Frog was interviewing the Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe.  For those that don’t recall, she had so many children, she didn’t know what to do.

I was curious, as was Kermit; how many children did she actually have?  How many, in fact was TOO many?

As it turns out, 8.

Well. 

I have 7.

So apparently I don’t have SUCH a big family.

How do I manage with my crew?  I’ve been asked this many times.  Here are my thoughts, in no particular order:

1. In the various “Orthodox” circles where I travel, my family may be considered large, average, or “that’s a sneeze”.  Some people reading this may be chuckling at the notion that I have a lot on my plate.
2.  I am one of 7 kids.  So this feels normal to me.
3. My husband is one of 8 kids… he and Kermit may have something to talk about.
4. Did you ever notice that people think a “large family” is anything with more kids than they grew up with?  Likewise, a “small” family would be… anything smaller than they grew up with.  My, what an objective and scientific group us humans are.
5. Since my sibs and sibs-in-law are all used to this, as are many of my friends, we are not a novelty or a curiosity.  It’s considered normal for me to have a couple of friends’ kids or nieces/nephews for sleepovers or playdates; likewise, my kids would go over to friends, neighbors, or relatives even when they have a houseful.  Multiple pregnancies, nursing moms, and childbirth are all part of the fabric of lives.  We’re used to this and it’s part of the culture.  This implicit and practical support is everything.
6. I am the oldest girl and the second child in my family.  My mom is a very smart woman, and guided us to help in a way that was empowering and also taught us responsibility, commitment, and selflessness.  She let us help in ways that we wanted to by offering me choices (would you like to do the grocery shopping or bathe the kids?).  Contrary to some media reports I’ve seen, this did not make me resentful, neurotic, un-religious, or give me an eating disorder.  It made me a healthy, responsible member of society.  Did I always want to help?  NO.  But the doing when I wasn’t in the mood helped me get out of the selfish zone that many teens live in. 
7.  I loved my younger sisters and brothers.  (Okay, my older brother too.)  I sincerely was so excited each time my mother had another child.  My kids are like this too.  Once would be quite surprised at how kids in large families beg their folks to have more (assuming it’s a healthy household).  When I had six, my kids were literally hounding me: When are you going to have another baby??  So they LOVE getting the baby after a nap, feeding her Cheerios, walking her in the stroller, and…. Well, the diaper changing is still mainly my and my husband’s job. J
8. I hire paid help when I need to and I don’t consider it a luxury.  We don’t go on expensive vacations, and I buy clothes on the cheap, but help in the home is a total priority.  And I DON’T FEEL GUILTY ABOUT IT.  Healthy mom, healthy kids.  It’s that simple.
9. My big kids totally help me (see #6).  Sometimes they love doing it, and sometimes they don’t, but girls and boys alike help out with: cleaning up, laundry, grocery shopping, various gofer errands around the house, setting the table and clearing away, babysitting, and, yes, even diaper changing.  Despite the effort this involves on my part, I am a firm believer that this is good for my kids (and for me).  Some call it Pyramid Parenting.  My husband and I are at the top, and we delegate to the younger ones to help out with the even-younger-ones.  It needs to be done with sensitivity so the goal is accomplished without resentment and we need to constantly check ourselves that each child receives adequate attention and alone-time.  Do I always succeed?  No, but I think for the most part we do OK.
10.  I pray.  As often as I can.  For many things, but specifically, that God should help me be a good parent, gift me with the wisdom to make the right decisions for my kids and the strength to care for them as they need.  For good health and good influences.  That they might grow up to be spiritual, healthy in body and mind, to do good deeds, be good Jews, honest and upright, marry well, and be a credit to all.
11. My husband and I are an absolute team.  We share the load, whether that load is physical, job-related, kid-related, house-related.  This is huge.
12.  Am I overwhelmed?  Sometimes.  Are parents of two kids ever overwhelmed?  Are non-parents sometimes overwhelmed??  We all get overwhelmed sometimes.  That’s OK.  That’s just life.

And finally, Kermit, I’d like to say that I think we need to get this family into reality TV… An elderly octomom, the whole living in the shoe piece… would you say??

There Was An Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe

It appears that everyone wants to hear about large families (see yesterday's comments).

OK!  Here we go.

Here's my completely disjointed response to yesterday's questions:
1. Some large families and some small families parent irresponsibly.

2. Some large families and and some small families find it hard to pay the bills.

3. Some Orthodox men begin their marriage by studying in kollel full-time (Kollel - a non-profit institution where married men study advanced Talmud full-time and receive a stipend to do so. It's a Hebrew word that means "all-included" since the idea is that the families' needs would be taken care of. Pronounced "KOE-lell.")

4. Men who study in kollel receive a stipend for doing so.  Many also receive help from parents.

5. Men who study in kollel typically do so for a temporary number of years (before they have a lot of kids) at which point they seek employment in the "regular" world.

6. Most kollel men that I know (agreed, this is anecdotal and unscientific) are incredibly helpful with bedtime, bathtime, grocery shopping, diaper changing, and the like.

7. Kollel life is not for everyone.

8. Using birth control is a concession in Jewish law, intended to be applied in certain circumstances and at certain times in one's life.  Using it too liberally or not liberally enough are both problematic in Jewish law, and therefore (I know this is gonna sound weird) is done with the guidance and mentorship of a Rabbi - a HUGE factor in Jewish living that I talk about ALL THE TIME (those of you who know me are smiling).
Is this weird?

Yeah, but if you have a Rabbi that you respect and are close to, there is seriously no more satisfying way to live life and make tough decisions with serenity, clarity, and wisdom.

Is it weird to talk to your DOCTOR about birth control?  Sometimes, but you do it anyway, because you need guidance, right?  Same deal.

I know Rabbis who have insisted that families use birth control even when they didn't want to.

9. That having been said, having money or not is NOT a factor.  The mother's mental health is the key factor. Don't you know people who have grown up with very little by way of materialistic stuff, but in a loving, happy home (whether large or small) who are so happy and well-adjusted?
Of course if you are incapable of supplying your family with basic needs, this is a problem, but chances are that will impact on the mental health of the mother.

10. Would you agree that many of the things we think we need money for are not our basic needs?  Would you agree that our expectations are quite high?  I know I'm in this boat.  I think of how people were raised two or even one generation ago and am actually embarrassed.

11.  Being poor is nothing to be ashamed about.  The economy's collapse proved that even really smart people with really expensive and impressive degrees could not scrape it together.

12. The reason birth control is not openly discussed in the religious world is because it is highly personal and considered immodest to be discussed casually.  This is a good thing.  The casual and open discussion of people's most personal lives does not bode well for us. The first time a casual acquaintance asked me, "Are you guys done?" I almost passed out.  That said, my friends and I all knew that it was there if and when we needed it, again, with the guidance of a Rabbi.

13.  When you see families with "a lot of kids" - what do you think is their motivation?  If they don't seem to have enough money, or seem sapped and zapped, why do you think they do it?  It can't be easy, so what do you think is driving this?

14.  Any husband who doesn't help his wife is doing wrong in the eyes of Torah.  This is true whether he thinks he's doing a mitzvah by studying Torah when she needs him, or whether he's off playing golf.

15.  Tuition in today's day schools is a very big problem, bigger than me, that people much wiser than me are trying to solve, and deserves its own attention.  All I will say is that we, the parents, have created a monster by expecting a smartboard in every room, in-house, nutritious lunches, a speech, occupational, and whatever else kind of therapist available for free to each child in school, and many other amenities that were completely unavailable to the children of yesteryear.  We have very high expectations, then reel at the bill.  But again: this problem is way bigger than me, and I do not claim to have good answers.

16.  I feel that raising a large family is the most ideal and beautiful way (again: when possible) to raise wonderfully well-adjusted, unspoiled children who will become the parents of the next generation.

Tips on how I, personally, manage my brood coming soon... :)

Black Hattitude

If you think long skirts are all the rage, check out what's goin' on with the black fedora.

Why DO some Orthodox men favor these antiquated black fedoras, en masse?  Is it a closet Michael Jackson thing? (Answer: no.)

There are a couple of ideas behind the black hat.

1. Historically, it has been considered a sign of respect and gentlemanliness to wear one's hat.  JFK supposedly was the first prez to appear at his inauguration sans hat, which was either way cool or rather blasphemous, depending on how old you were at the time.

2. There is a mystical notion in Jewish tradition that while a man should keep his head covered (with a yarmulke/kippah) at all times, to demonstrate visually that God is above him, he should actually wear a DOUBLE covering while praying/saying blessings.  The hat worked nicely, since everyone wore them for formal appearances, so having a formal appearance with God fit right in.

3. The fedora emerged in recent years as a "uniform" of sorts with the "yeshiva" community - and thus became viewed by adherents as a badge of pride, similar to tzitzit (the fringes some men wear hanging from under their shirts).  Ie, you can wear it, or you can wear it with pride.

I'll focus for now on the last point.

The "yeshiva" community is a culture and lifestyle based on the notion that the center of a man's/boy's academic attention should be the yeshiva - an institution of almost full-time Talmudic study.  (Why this is for men and not women will be the subject of a separate post.)

The largest yeshiva in the US is Beth Medrash Govoha (translation: Upper House of Study) in the city of Lakewood, NJ.  Remember: NOT  Lakewood, Ohio.  You'll be searching the 480 for awhile in vain for the black fedoras.  An entire yeshiva community has arisen around the yeshiva, and the "uniform" for a guy would be white shirt, black pants/jacket, and... the ubiquitous black hat.

Other aspects of the lifestyle include a resistance to pop culture (ie, not getting People magazine or going to movies), an emphasis on modesty between men and women, a passion for prayer, Torah study, and acts of kindness within the community, and the importance of large families when possible.
Believe it or not, all this is expressed with the donning of the black fedora.

Any questions?

Running

I'm a runner.

Ha ha!  That was funny.

I can run ONE mile at a time.  And I'm sooo proud!

If you are anything like me, you have a love/hate relationship with exercise.  Love to have done it, hate to really make yourself do it.  But then I found running.  I started running six months ago, post-baby-number-seven.  I decided I was done paying for gym membership, really wanted to be outdoors, and wanted to be able to work out wherever and whenever.

My dilemma?

What to wear.

MOST PEOPLE RUN IN TANK TOPS AND SHORTS.

I don't wear tank tops and shorts.

Could I, should I, run in a skirt?

Would I, would I, run in long sleeves?

Can I, do I, run with my head fully covered??

Or am I doomed to the treadmill in my basement?  (Aaaagh.  Anything but that.)

So, yes, my decision to run was delayed for awhile due to this very silly, superficial issue of what to wear.

There's another thing.

I don't like to run in public.  I know that sounds weird but I feel funny when people I know watch me run.  Like, a race.  Like, in my neighborhood.  I feel exposed.

So I've come up with a great solution.  I run in another neighborhood, in my long sleeves and long skirt, and tie a bandanna over my head, and run!

And I love it!

And I feel very Orthodox!

Especially in the summer!

And that's OK!

And maybe one day I will surpass the one mile mark!

Judgmental is Not a Religion, It's a Personality Defect by guest blogger Wendy Solganik

My friend Wendy is smart, cool, and funny.  She runs her own custom cards business, learns mussar (Jewish character improvement), writes a popular food blog, and is a mom of 3.  She always has something insightful to share.  Here we go.

Be sure to check out her links at the bottom of her post.

Hi, I'm Wendy. I'm not "Orthodox." I don't know what you would consider me. I kind of like to defy labels. But I like to hang around with people who practice our religion in the traditional way. I learn a lot from them.

Last night I was at a party and I was talking to a perfectly nice woman. She was asking about the religious community that I am a member of. It also defies labels--of course--and I was explaining it as best as I could: the adults learn along side the children, our Rabbi and Rebbetzin are "Orthodox," we are like a big, close family, and on and on.

And then she said it. "But aren't the Orthodox so judgmental?"

Wah, wah.

I've heard this question/statement so many times before that it unfortunately didn't come as a surprise. "Why do you say that?" I inquired.

I was met with some pretty ugly stories about how her family was treated by some people on a trip to Israel. Okay, I admit, that's not good.

And then I asked her some more questions. "Have you ever experienced this in the United States?"

"No."

"How many people do you know? Five hundred? A thousand? And out of those five hundred, what percent of those people would you say have exhibited judgmental behavior at one point or another? How many people would you classify as downright judgmental people?"

And immediately she knew where I was going with this. I could see the light bulb moment.

People are judgmental. Not all of them, but some. That is the nature of human beings. Some way more than others. There are judgmental Atheists, judgmental Catholics, judgmental Reform Jews and yes, judgmental Orthodox. Are the percentages of people that judgmental AND Orthodox any higher than the percent that are judgmental and Non-orthodox?

I don't think so.

And just like some people really are judgmental, there are also people that are very sensitive and tend to feel judged no matter who they are dealing with. They may be very concerned with what others think about them so they are on the lookout for signs. They might even mistake zealotry for judgmentalness. Someone who is excited about the way they are living their life that they just can't help but try to try to share it with others would be misperceived as judgmental.

Or maybe calling someone "judgmental" is projecting their tendencies onto others. They know that they tend to judge others for their behaviors, so they assume that everyone thinks like they do.

I don't know why this phenomenon exists exactly, but I do know that it exists, and in a very big way. But I myself have never experienced the judgmental Orthodox phenomenon.

What's up with that?

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