My future husband is loving and touching and endearing and sweet. He's thoughtful, determined, kind and encouraging. He relates to God as though God were his eternal bride, much as the Rav speaks of his own romance with the Creator. His words are laden with sincerity. He's genuine and real and when he speaks, he means what he says. He has never lied to me. He has never broken his word. He cares deeply about God, about me and about us. There is a depth and a quality to his caring that is remarkable. It strengthens and emboldens me. I feel empowered because of him and because of his belief in me. It reminds me a little of the scene in "Finding Neverland" where everyone is urged to assert: "I do believe in fairies- I do- I do!" and to clap loudly in order to ensure that Tinkerbell survives. There are some people who never become what they truly are unless they are believed in, for that belief is the blood that flows through their veins, the elixir that strengthens them and allows the pink flush of health to warm their cheeks. I am such a person.
He is also playful. I am playful, too. The two of us have raced each other across opposite Moving Walkways in O'Hare International Airport, gotten stuck in an elevator together at the Marriott Hotel, lain on a blanket of grass underneath a starry night sky and sipped wine from champagne flutes, driven to Connecticut to observe a shechita, had water-fights with hoses in industrial-sized kitchens (Camp Stone's kitchen, to be precise), tried on lots of different wigs (ranging from rocker to bright pink to orange) in Abracadabra, eaten dinner and sipped Cokes on open rooftops, taken a tour of Pomegranate at 10PM, accidentally ended up in Queens one evening and purchased ice cream from Max & Mina's, have eaten Shabbat meals consisting mainly of cookies, have attended segregated Shabbat meals where we spoke with our eyes across a very long table, challenged one another to rhyming duels, avidly defended our interpretations of films, wandered through Barnes and Noble and Macy's while he's wearing a hat and bekishe, include double entendres and special meanings in nearly every conversation while suppressing the urge to break into hearty laughter, walked through Fort Tryon park together and so on and so forth.
He has many tones. I like the way his voice unconsciously sweetens when he speaks Yiddish to his younger siblings; he doesn't even realize it. He's made a habit of locating various and sundry chocolatiers in an effort to ply me with every single type of chocolate known to man (he likes to give me gifts for no reason) and a wicked twinkle comes into his eye when he stoutly informs me that he has a "surprise for me" (it's a book from my favorite series).
Well-meaning people used to call me to ask what I was looking for in a husband. At first I was flummoxed by the question- I couldn't describe what I was looking for because I was interested in so many different types of people! But at some point I came up with an answer (and it was my stock answer) and it went like so:
"In Bereishis, when Avraham sends Eliezer to look for a bride for Yitzchak, Eliezer asks for a sign. The sign should be that when Eliezer asks a maiden to allow him to drink, she not only gives him water but also waters his camels. Now, why was that an identifying sign? Because it shows Rivka's kindness. She was kind, not only to a stranger, a wayfarer, but also to his beasts of burden, who were also tired and thirsty. So we see in the Torah itself that the quality that one should look for in a partner is kindness. The most important thing to me is that he should be kind. Kind, honest, loyal and truthful- but most of all kind."
And that is the essence of Heshy. If Heshy is your friend, he will give you of his time, his money and his devotion without qualms- because to him, friendship is a sacred bond of the spirit. He is utterly loyal. And he is also very kind. Heshy's perception of the world and of people is that it is a world of growth. It is our job to grow, to work on ourselves, create ourselves and recreate ourselves so that we grow and become better people. He is very realistic about his expectations. He doesn't expect himself or those he cares for to change overnight. He realizes that to grow takes work, hard work, and effort and skill. People must want to change and change happens gradually. Heshy rejoices in this rather than feeling frustrated by it. To him it is a marvel, just as all of God's creations- and His world- is a marvel. When Heshy walks outside, he sees a beautiful world: one that is full of potential.
At the same time, Heshy has a very strong attribute of justice. He deals with people as they have dealt with him. Measure for measure and middah kneged middah resonate strongly with him. His personality is such that he could officiate over disputes- he is not swayed by emotions but rules via logic. To him, justice and righteousness are synonymous. You may love someone very much, but that does not make them correct. It's interesting that the same lips can speak words that act as paintbrushes, creating the markers and streetlines that one sees on the pavement, borders and boundaries. Out of his lips come these yellow and white painted markings on the black concrete...and then, light words that sparkle also come from his mouth. It only depends on his focus at that moment in time.
My future husband has been handed equal measures of sweetness and justice and he must determine which quality is correct according to the time. The seat of power is the tongue and all that it expresses.
I feel lucky that God bound me to a man who is so understanding. It's unique for one and the same person to be logical, kind, playful and loving. He balances me when I am caught up in dreams I never realize by pointing out that the mundane practicalities of life are important and, alongside him, could even be made fun. I love his complexity and the secret parts of his personality, the depth that is hinted to but never fully realized. I admire his ability to comprehend my attraction to darkness and to validate how I feel even if he disagrees. There is in Heshy a boundless ability to give. All the stars spinning throughout the milky way, the vastness of the known universe, the ineffable nature of God- none of these metaphors could express how much he is willing to give and how deeply he cares for others.
Which is why I'm lucky: because he's my destiny.
Wednesday, October 06, 2010
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
Epileptic Peat
Today I was coming home from work and detoured to Times Square 42nd Street Station. There I saw a man in a gorilla mask playing the electric guitar accompanied by tunes that he had recorded and manipulated with his foot. I stopped, totally entranced and listened for a good 10 minutes. I wasn't the only one. There was something in this man's music- his strange ability to combine so many genres- that was deeply appealing.
I bought his CD. His name is Peat. He goes by the name Epileptic Peat. His CD is called "The Minstrel and the Shill" and it's a strangely beautiful mixture of guitar, drums, cello, violin, piano, bagpipes, banjo and the glockenspiegel. To me it seems reflective of many different parts of my nature. The album is also beautifully designed/ is rather artistic, courtesy of Luke Rains (www.caspianisdead.com).
In short, it appeals to me...and it's amazing to me that each track is able to touch on so many emotions. This is like the tune the Pied Piper played to ensure the children would be captivated by him.
I bought his CD. His name is Peat. He goes by the name Epileptic Peat. His CD is called "The Minstrel and the Shill" and it's a strangely beautiful mixture of guitar, drums, cello, violin, piano, bagpipes, banjo and the glockenspiegel. To me it seems reflective of many different parts of my nature. The album is also beautifully designed/ is rather artistic, courtesy of Luke Rains (www.caspianisdead.com).
In short, it appeals to me...and it's amazing to me that each track is able to touch on so many emotions. This is like the tune the Pied Piper played to ensure the children would be captivated by him.
Sunday, October 03, 2010
Simchas Torah in Bobov
Bleachers, to me, are reminiscent of a baseball game. I imagine Wrigley Field and the few Cubs games I have attended, the scent of popcorn, hot dogs and sweat in the air. People are cheering, loudly attired in the colors of their team. They bounce their children on their knees, dandling them there while they carefully introduce them to the intricacies of the game. Their expressions rise and fall with each pitch, hit or home run. The throng of people bands together in their shared concern and joy over the sight that takes place below.
As I look out over the sea of black, the flesh-colored hands clapping rhythmically, ecstatically together in joy, I am awed. Bleachers line all three walls of the shul and men and boys sway, stamp and jump ecstatically. Their hands are expressive, the outlet for their unified euphoria. The air is celebratory; below, in an expansive square bordered by tables draped in sparkling white cloths, fifty-two men hold fifty-two Sifrei Torah. They march together around the edge of this dance-floor, clad in their finest bekishes and shtreimels, some with young children in tow. In the middle of the dance floor, the king who presides over all, is the Bobover Rav.
The Rav, or Ruv as it is pronounced in the Hasidic dialect, wears a talis that is crowned by a silver atara. He pulls it over his face so that his eyes are completely covered and it hangs like a holy cowl; only his white beard remains uncovered. He wears a bekishe, white socks and black shoes. The energy in his manner and his dance is unparallelled. The tallis flies out behind him as he dances, forming the letters of the alef-bet with the patterns his feet trace across the floor; he looks like nothing so much as an angel. He holds out his hands before him and claps them vigorously, all the while dancing across the expansive floor, his men marching around him with their Torahs held loftily in their hands. The men in the bleachers focus on him; they clap in time with him. The energy that fills the air is explosive, combustible. This is not just joy; it is transcendent. The hall has been dipped in the elixir of ecstasy.
Those who are not jumping on the bleachers but stand outside of the white tables form a circle (really, it is more of a square), widthwise, five men across. Hundreds to thousands of men join this circle, each one putting his hands on the shoulders of the person in front of him. They bob up and down, jumping and singing passionately, their whole souls contained in these moments. They are carried forward by the momentum, a sea of black with brown shtreimels and black hats dotting the horizon. Children ride on their fathers' shoulders or scramble along within the crowd, thrilled by the rapture that fills the room. They are transported by the experience, taken to another world, a piece of heaven that is solely theirs.
These multitudes are observed by thousands of equally moved women, who fill two balconies that curve into an L-shape. The women stand atop chairs or shtenders; they clamber to the highest bench on the set of bleachers. They crane their necks, struggling to catch sight of the tremendous foray into exaltation below them. Their white kerchiefs make them identifiable to the onlooker, as does the sparkle of their jewelery. They lift up their children and struggle to locate their husbands, brothers and sons in the crowd. A curious sense of pride swells their hearts; they too vicariously take part in this fervent dance before God, the celebration of the gift of His holy Torah.
The hakafos go on till the wee hours of the morning. Men, boys and women are seen walking the streets till 4 or 5 AM, their menfolk having only just returned from the joyful celebration. While the Chasidim perform hakafos on Shmini Atzeres night and day as well, it's nothing as compared to the transcendent rotations they describe on Simchas Torah itself. That is the night when all is uncovered, the normally quiet man who is shy of demonstrating his feelings for God is lost in the incredible experience of being one with many in a blessed union with the soul of the Torah. Like an orchestra that is divided into many sections and yet all have their parts, so too this Simchas Torah celebration. The percussion section is perhaps equivalent to the jubilant men on the bleachers who stamp their feet, jump and clap together while singing joyfully. The strings section is comprised of the men within the white tables holding the Torahs, marching in a dignified fashion while still expressing their gladness. And the flutes and windpipes can serve as the men outside of the tables who form the mass of humanity that pushes, leaps and gambols forward with an intense, fervent concentration upon the holiness of the day. The Rav, of course, is the conductor.
The ecstasy does not end here. At the conclusion of the Shalosh Regalim, all of Bobov, men, women and children, gather outside of the Rav's house on 48th street. This ritual is called Neilas HaChag. The streets are shut down and police monitor them to ensure that nothing untoward happens. Usually it takes about 15 minutes, although this time the wait went for about 2 hours and 15 minutes. The Rav then steps out onto his porch to applause and singing, after which a shamash holds up his silent and the crowd goes silent. He speaks in Yiddish, wishing them a good year, a good winter, warning them against the evils of the outside world, telling them to be kovea itim (learn at set times) and wishing them joy in their smachot. He is their leader and they gather before him in nothing so much as a modern-day Hakhel. Instead of reading Sefer Devarim, however, he speaks to their hearts.
I am conflicted by these scenes. I am drawn to the beauty in them, the holiness, the spirituality, the transcendent and irrepressible joy. It calls out to me and my heart answers, for there is much in this that speaks to my soul. But the warning against the "goyishe velt" in which I live, the casual references to "my goyta" and what she has or hasn't done, the fact that shidduchim are determined at least in part based on "levush" and a b'sho generally involves having met only two or three times before one's marriage, the preeminence of white socks and beige socks in marital decisions, the idea that one marries the child of geirim as a last resort, if that- these things make me breathe a sigh of pleasure when I return to Washingon Heights, which is more of my home.
But it does not make me forget the sight that I saw in the twilight of Boro Park, the joy and ecstasy that filled the room, the creativity and beauty resplendent in their sukkot and the miniatures that fill them. Similar to the Macy's and Lord and Taylor Christmas windows, Bobov creates miniature figurines that portray Jewish scenes and displays them in their sukkot, although this year only the sukkah on 45th had them. These are masterpieces of artistry and creativity created by unprofessional bochurim who have never been taught art in a formal setting and they are beautiful.
The beautiful and the ugly lodge side-by-side, and in the night tinged with the scent of smoke from Yom Tov cigarettes, I find myself both moved and perplexed by what I see.
As I look out over the sea of black, the flesh-colored hands clapping rhythmically, ecstatically together in joy, I am awed. Bleachers line all three walls of the shul and men and boys sway, stamp and jump ecstatically. Their hands are expressive, the outlet for their unified euphoria. The air is celebratory; below, in an expansive square bordered by tables draped in sparkling white cloths, fifty-two men hold fifty-two Sifrei Torah. They march together around the edge of this dance-floor, clad in their finest bekishes and shtreimels, some with young children in tow. In the middle of the dance floor, the king who presides over all, is the Bobover Rav.
The Rav, or Ruv as it is pronounced in the Hasidic dialect, wears a talis that is crowned by a silver atara. He pulls it over his face so that his eyes are completely covered and it hangs like a holy cowl; only his white beard remains uncovered. He wears a bekishe, white socks and black shoes. The energy in his manner and his dance is unparallelled. The tallis flies out behind him as he dances, forming the letters of the alef-bet with the patterns his feet trace across the floor; he looks like nothing so much as an angel. He holds out his hands before him and claps them vigorously, all the while dancing across the expansive floor, his men marching around him with their Torahs held loftily in their hands. The men in the bleachers focus on him; they clap in time with him. The energy that fills the air is explosive, combustible. This is not just joy; it is transcendent. The hall has been dipped in the elixir of ecstasy.
Those who are not jumping on the bleachers but stand outside of the white tables form a circle (really, it is more of a square), widthwise, five men across. Hundreds to thousands of men join this circle, each one putting his hands on the shoulders of the person in front of him. They bob up and down, jumping and singing passionately, their whole souls contained in these moments. They are carried forward by the momentum, a sea of black with brown shtreimels and black hats dotting the horizon. Children ride on their fathers' shoulders or scramble along within the crowd, thrilled by the rapture that fills the room. They are transported by the experience, taken to another world, a piece of heaven that is solely theirs.
These multitudes are observed by thousands of equally moved women, who fill two balconies that curve into an L-shape. The women stand atop chairs or shtenders; they clamber to the highest bench on the set of bleachers. They crane their necks, struggling to catch sight of the tremendous foray into exaltation below them. Their white kerchiefs make them identifiable to the onlooker, as does the sparkle of their jewelery. They lift up their children and struggle to locate their husbands, brothers and sons in the crowd. A curious sense of pride swells their hearts; they too vicariously take part in this fervent dance before God, the celebration of the gift of His holy Torah.
The hakafos go on till the wee hours of the morning. Men, boys and women are seen walking the streets till 4 or 5 AM, their menfolk having only just returned from the joyful celebration. While the Chasidim perform hakafos on Shmini Atzeres night and day as well, it's nothing as compared to the transcendent rotations they describe on Simchas Torah itself. That is the night when all is uncovered, the normally quiet man who is shy of demonstrating his feelings for God is lost in the incredible experience of being one with many in a blessed union with the soul of the Torah. Like an orchestra that is divided into many sections and yet all have their parts, so too this Simchas Torah celebration. The percussion section is perhaps equivalent to the jubilant men on the bleachers who stamp their feet, jump and clap together while singing joyfully. The strings section is comprised of the men within the white tables holding the Torahs, marching in a dignified fashion while still expressing their gladness. And the flutes and windpipes can serve as the men outside of the tables who form the mass of humanity that pushes, leaps and gambols forward with an intense, fervent concentration upon the holiness of the day. The Rav, of course, is the conductor.
The ecstasy does not end here. At the conclusion of the Shalosh Regalim, all of Bobov, men, women and children, gather outside of the Rav's house on 48th street. This ritual is called Neilas HaChag. The streets are shut down and police monitor them to ensure that nothing untoward happens. Usually it takes about 15 minutes, although this time the wait went for about 2 hours and 15 minutes. The Rav then steps out onto his porch to applause and singing, after which a shamash holds up his silent and the crowd goes silent. He speaks in Yiddish, wishing them a good year, a good winter, warning them against the evils of the outside world, telling them to be kovea itim (learn at set times) and wishing them joy in their smachot. He is their leader and they gather before him in nothing so much as a modern-day Hakhel. Instead of reading Sefer Devarim, however, he speaks to their hearts.
I am conflicted by these scenes. I am drawn to the beauty in them, the holiness, the spirituality, the transcendent and irrepressible joy. It calls out to me and my heart answers, for there is much in this that speaks to my soul. But the warning against the "goyishe velt" in which I live, the casual references to "my goyta" and what she has or hasn't done, the fact that shidduchim are determined at least in part based on "levush" and a b'sho generally involves having met only two or three times before one's marriage, the preeminence of white socks and beige socks in marital decisions, the idea that one marries the child of geirim as a last resort, if that- these things make me breathe a sigh of pleasure when I return to Washingon Heights, which is more of my home.
But it does not make me forget the sight that I saw in the twilight of Boro Park, the joy and ecstasy that filled the room, the creativity and beauty resplendent in their sukkot and the miniatures that fill them. Similar to the Macy's and Lord and Taylor Christmas windows, Bobov creates miniature figurines that portray Jewish scenes and displays them in their sukkot, although this year only the sukkah on 45th had them. These are masterpieces of artistry and creativity created by unprofessional bochurim who have never been taught art in a formal setting and they are beautiful.
The beautiful and the ugly lodge side-by-side, and in the night tinged with the scent of smoke from Yom Tov cigarettes, I find myself both moved and perplexed by what I see.
Monday, September 27, 2010
the daily grind
So there are those of you who particularly enjoy the lighthearted, humorous, happy version of me.
Luckily for you, that version is now going to exist as part of a Team Blog which will include the doings of myself and my fellow twenty-somethings who work at the OU.
The plan is to post at least once a day (on all the days I'm in the office/ have access to a computer) and in this way to give you a taste of my life and the Orthodox Union.
Please comment on those posts over at that location rather than at this blog.
Welcome to: Life at the OU
Luckily for you, that version is now going to exist as part of a Team Blog which will include the doings of myself and my fellow twenty-somethings who work at the OU.
The plan is to post at least once a day (on all the days I'm in the office/ have access to a computer) and in this way to give you a taste of my life and the Orthodox Union.
Please comment on those posts over at that location rather than at this blog.
Welcome to: Life at the OU
Sunday, September 26, 2010
In Which I Make History
So this past Shabbat my parents made a kiddush in honor of Heshy and myself. It was supposed to take place in the sukkah of Shaarei Tzedek.
However...at first there were two sukkot at the shul.
Then there was one.
And then there were none.
At which point they decided to make a Women's Kiddush (since we aren't obligated in Mitzvos Asei She'Hazeman Grama).
And I got to say Kiddush for everyone! And make history at my shul- because a woman said kiddush for all the women and drank from the cup. Very exciting. Hurrah!
However...at first there were two sukkot at the shul.
Then there was one.
And then there were none.
At which point they decided to make a Women's Kiddush (since we aren't obligated in Mitzvos Asei She'Hazeman Grama).
And I got to say Kiddush for everyone! And make history at my shul- because a woman said kiddush for all the women and drank from the cup. Very exciting. Hurrah!
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Calling All Teenagers/ High-Schoolers
If you are currently attending an Orthodox Jewish high school (single sex or coed), please email me at OliviaNCSY@gmail to answer the following questions (you can do this totally anonymously and I don't plan to share the information with any adults, teachers or other authority figures):
YOU COULD ALSO JUST CLICK HERE TO FILL OUT THIS SURVEY.
a) what is your experience of Judaism at home/ role modelled by your parents?
b) what is your experience of Judaism at high school
c) what is your experience of Judaism elsewhere/ outside of school/ summer camps or trips etc
d) what is your experience of Judaism on NCSY/ JSU programs
Do you keep half-Shabbos or full-Shabbos (basically, do you text on Shabbos), do you eat out at non-kosher restaraunts (and if so, by yourself, with friends or with family), have you been on Miami spring break and if so how would you describe your religiosity there? Is your Judaism meaningful to you? Why or why not? What (if anything) would make you care about your Judaism?
Please also just tell me whether you attend a single-sex all boys school, a single-sex all girls school or a coed school. If you can tell me which state it's located in, that would also be helpful.
Feel free to use fake names/ be totally anonymous.
YOU COULD ALSO JUST CLICK HERE TO FILL OUT THIS SURVEY.
a) what is your experience of Judaism at home/ role modelled by your parents?
b) what is your experience of Judaism at high school
c) what is your experience of Judaism elsewhere/ outside of school/ summer camps or trips etc
d) what is your experience of Judaism on NCSY/ JSU programs
Do you keep half-Shabbos or full-Shabbos (basically, do you text on Shabbos), do you eat out at non-kosher restaraunts (and if so, by yourself, with friends or with family), have you been on Miami spring break and if so how would you describe your religiosity there? Is your Judaism meaningful to you? Why or why not? What (if anything) would make you care about your Judaism?
Please also just tell me whether you attend a single-sex all boys school, a single-sex all girls school or a coed school. If you can tell me which state it's located in, that would also be helpful.
Feel free to use fake names/ be totally anonymous.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
And If You Offer Your Soul To The Hungry
There was one verse that stood out to me from yesterday's haftorah of Isaiah 57-58.
"And if you offer your soul to the hungry and satisfy the afflicted soul; then your light will shine in the darkness and the deepest gloom will be like the noon."
In the Hebrew, it is 58:10.
וְתָפֵק לָרָעֵב נַפְשֶׁךָ, וְנֶפֶשׁ נַעֲנָה תַּשְׂבִּיעַ; וְזָרַח בַּחֹשֶׁךְ אוֹרֶךָ, וַאֲפֵלָתְךָ כַּצָּהֳרָיִם.
The reason this verse speaks to me so profoundly- and this is without looking at the elaborations, explanations or commentaries to the verse- is because of the words used. Note that it does not say that one should offer food to the hungry but rather one's soul. Many times people are hungry for compassion, kindness or spirituality and these are not hungers that can be sated by anything less than the giving of a soul- and I have given my soul. I felt that God was comforting me. "You may have your sins- but you have given your soul- and I have seen it- I have witnessed it- and the strength of that soul outweighs the darkness of those sins. So be still, my daughter, for I have not left you yet."
The fact that the man who said Birkat Kohanim sounded exactly like my grandfather - he spoke with the same Chassidish pronounciation- made me feel like I was being blessed by my grandfather from beyond the grave through an emissary, which is especially important given that this is just before my wedding.
And the fact that a little old lady who survived Birkenau and showed me the numbers on her arm blessed me adds to that power. It is my custom always to ask survivors, especially those who remained religious, for blessings for I feel they have a merit that no one else can possibly attain unless they were burned in fire and tortured by water as one of God's chosen within His crucible.
God was close to me as He always is; I felt Him and I saw Him- in the faces of all those assembled, gathered only to do Yizkor. It is very powerful to me that even though one may not be at all religious still one comes to pray for the dead, for one's mother and father. It bespeaks a deep and inseparable bond between the parent and the child, a love that extends beyond death.
This should come as no surprise because King Solomon states that it is so.
See Song of Songs 8:6.
שִׂימֵנִי כַחוֹתָם עַל-לִבֶּךָ, כַּחוֹתָם עַל-זְרוֹעֶךָ--כִּי-עַזָּה כַמָּוֶת אַהֲבָה, קָשָׁה כִשְׁאוֹל קִנְאָה: רְשָׁפֶיהָ--רִשְׁפֵּי, אֵשׁ שַׁלְהֶבֶתְיָה. 6
Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thine arm; for love is strong as death, jealousy is cruel as the grave; the flashes thereof are flashes of fire, a very flame of the LORD.
Love is as strong as death; this is why so many express their love by coming to Yizkor.
There is something absolutely haunting about the wailing cry, 'El Malei Rachamim.' I imagine that cry and see bodies piled up in pits, mass graves in Europe and I shudder in awe. It amazes me that man clings to God when God has hurt him- in the shadow of the death camps, in the darkness of the night, when no one else answers, all that we have is His. Our bodies? Our souls? They do not belong to us. We do His will for He gave us life; we try our hardest to do as He desires.
The part that touches me the most in the Shemoneh Esrei that we say on Yom Kippur is this paragraph:
"My God, before I was formed I was unworthy, and now that I have been formed, it is as if I had not been formed. I am dust in my life and will surely be son in my death. Behold- before You I am like a vessel filled with shame and humiliation. May it be Your will, Hashem, my God and the God of my forefathers, that I may not sin again. And what I have sinned before You, may You wipe away with Your abundant mercy, but not through suffering or serious illness."
The plea and the desire not to sin again before God again are a mixture of sweet and sad to me. This is everyone's most fervent wish- but in order not to sin one must know what the sins are. In a world that is very confusing with many divergent opinions it is hard sometimes to know if what one does, longs for, feels or acts upon is a sin or if it is not.
What I wish of God is to grant me the clarity to discern the sins from the good deeds so that I will then be able to fulfill this desire of not sinning again.
And may He shine His countenance down upon me like the sun, and my light and His will mingle and I shall be both awed and happy, cupped as I am within His Palm.
"And if you offer your soul to the hungry and satisfy the afflicted soul; then your light will shine in the darkness and the deepest gloom will be like the noon."
In the Hebrew, it is 58:10.
וְתָפֵק לָרָעֵב נַפְשֶׁךָ, וְנֶפֶשׁ נַעֲנָה תַּשְׂבִּיעַ; וְזָרַח בַּחֹשֶׁךְ אוֹרֶךָ, וַאֲפֵלָתְךָ כַּצָּהֳרָיִם.
The reason this verse speaks to me so profoundly- and this is without looking at the elaborations, explanations or commentaries to the verse- is because of the words used. Note that it does not say that one should offer food to the hungry but rather one's soul. Many times people are hungry for compassion, kindness or spirituality and these are not hungers that can be sated by anything less than the giving of a soul- and I have given my soul. I felt that God was comforting me. "You may have your sins- but you have given your soul- and I have seen it- I have witnessed it- and the strength of that soul outweighs the darkness of those sins. So be still, my daughter, for I have not left you yet."
The fact that the man who said Birkat Kohanim sounded exactly like my grandfather - he spoke with the same Chassidish pronounciation- made me feel like I was being blessed by my grandfather from beyond the grave through an emissary, which is especially important given that this is just before my wedding.
And the fact that a little old lady who survived Birkenau and showed me the numbers on her arm blessed me adds to that power. It is my custom always to ask survivors, especially those who remained religious, for blessings for I feel they have a merit that no one else can possibly attain unless they were burned in fire and tortured by water as one of God's chosen within His crucible.
God was close to me as He always is; I felt Him and I saw Him- in the faces of all those assembled, gathered only to do Yizkor. It is very powerful to me that even though one may not be at all religious still one comes to pray for the dead, for one's mother and father. It bespeaks a deep and inseparable bond between the parent and the child, a love that extends beyond death.
This should come as no surprise because King Solomon states that it is so.
See Song of Songs 8:6.
שִׂימֵנִי כַחוֹתָם עַל-לִבֶּךָ, כַּחוֹתָם עַל-זְרוֹעֶךָ--כִּי-עַזָּה כַמָּוֶת אַהֲבָה, קָשָׁה כִשְׁאוֹל קִנְאָה: רְשָׁפֶיהָ--רִשְׁפֵּי, אֵשׁ שַׁלְהֶבֶתְיָה. 6
Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thine arm; for love is strong as death, jealousy is cruel as the grave; the flashes thereof are flashes of fire, a very flame of the LORD.
Love is as strong as death; this is why so many express their love by coming to Yizkor.
There is something absolutely haunting about the wailing cry, 'El Malei Rachamim.' I imagine that cry and see bodies piled up in pits, mass graves in Europe and I shudder in awe. It amazes me that man clings to God when God has hurt him- in the shadow of the death camps, in the darkness of the night, when no one else answers, all that we have is His. Our bodies? Our souls? They do not belong to us. We do His will for He gave us life; we try our hardest to do as He desires.
The part that touches me the most in the Shemoneh Esrei that we say on Yom Kippur is this paragraph:
"My God, before I was formed I was unworthy, and now that I have been formed, it is as if I had not been formed. I am dust in my life and will surely be son in my death. Behold- before You I am like a vessel filled with shame and humiliation. May it be Your will, Hashem, my God and the God of my forefathers, that I may not sin again. And what I have sinned before You, may You wipe away with Your abundant mercy, but not through suffering or serious illness."
The plea and the desire not to sin again before God again are a mixture of sweet and sad to me. This is everyone's most fervent wish- but in order not to sin one must know what the sins are. In a world that is very confusing with many divergent opinions it is hard sometimes to know if what one does, longs for, feels or acts upon is a sin or if it is not.
What I wish of God is to grant me the clarity to discern the sins from the good deeds so that I will then be able to fulfill this desire of not sinning again.
And may He shine His countenance down upon me like the sun, and my light and His will mingle and I shall be both awed and happy, cupped as I am within His Palm.
Guardians at the Gate
I find that the song "Guardians at the Gate" by Audiomachine pretty aptly describes my life.
There's a lot of running, a lot of being scared, an all-along tempo raising me higher toward what I think is my breaking point, terror and a deep sense of urgency, that if I do not do this now I will never do it, and alongside all of this the knowledge that this is what I was born to do. I must run- I must be scared- I must go forward anyway- I was created for this.
There's a lot of running, a lot of being scared, an all-along tempo raising me higher toward what I think is my breaking point, terror and a deep sense of urgency, that if I do not do this now I will never do it, and alongside all of this the knowledge that this is what I was born to do. I must run- I must be scared- I must go forward anyway- I was created for this.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Save The Date! - A Beautiful Mind: Jewish Approaches To Mental Health
Come one, come all! The Yeshiva University Student Medical Ethics Society is hosting a conference on October 31, 2010 entitled "A Beautiful Mind: Jewish Approaches to Mental Health."
Does your child, spouse, relative or perhaps you yourself live with a mental illness? Even if not, are you curious about mental illness and instances of it within the Orthodox Jewish community? Are you interested in learning about:
-Suicide and Depression
-Addiction and Substance Abuse
-Eating Disorders
-Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
-Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder
-Bullying and Harrassing
Come learn about this unfortunately stigmatized topic and become a better, more aware, more sensitive person.
See you on October 31st!
Does your child, spouse, relative or perhaps you yourself live with a mental illness? Even if not, are you curious about mental illness and instances of it within the Orthodox Jewish community? Are you interested in learning about:-Suicide and Depression
-Addiction and Substance Abuse
-Eating Disorders
-Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
-Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder
-Bullying and Harrassing
Come learn about this unfortunately stigmatized topic and become a better, more aware, more sensitive person.
See you on October 31st!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Color Dependancy
Never underestimate my devotion to Gossip Girl: I woke up at 6:30 AM in order to watch last night's episode.
Some people would find this pathetic, but I prefer to think of myself as enlightened. You see, the majority of you are dependant upon actual drugs. You need your caffeine and coffee fix. Without those roasted brown beans creamed with milk and stirred happily within your mug, you morph into terrifying monsters.
As for me, I just have color dependancy.
What, you ask, does this mean?
Mainly that I need bright, happy colors to make my morning a good one. So I dress myself in bright colors, watch TV shows that sport bright colors ("Gossip Girl" and "America's Next Top Model") and shop at stores which sell bright merchandise. If it's magenta or orange, it's calling my name.
In this way, I am not chemically charged by brown beverages and need never lament the lack of them. I just need to focus on the large Gucci advertisement in Times Swuare or the shockingly flourescent shoes that the kindly lady is wearing in an ill-advised effort to seem fashionable.
And that's why it's worth it to wake up at 6:30 in the morning to see whether Chuck and Blair got back together.
Huzzah.
Some people would find this pathetic, but I prefer to think of myself as enlightened. You see, the majority of you are dependant upon actual drugs. You need your caffeine and coffee fix. Without those roasted brown beans creamed with milk and stirred happily within your mug, you morph into terrifying monsters.
As for me, I just have color dependancy.
What, you ask, does this mean?
Mainly that I need bright, happy colors to make my morning a good one. So I dress myself in bright colors, watch TV shows that sport bright colors ("Gossip Girl" and "America's Next Top Model") and shop at stores which sell bright merchandise. If it's magenta or orange, it's calling my name.
In this way, I am not chemically charged by brown beverages and need never lament the lack of them. I just need to focus on the large Gucci advertisement in Times Swuare or the shockingly flourescent shoes that the kindly lady is wearing in an ill-advised effort to seem fashionable.
And that's why it's worth it to wake up at 6:30 in the morning to see whether Chuck and Blair got back together.
Huzzah.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Wedding Invitations!
My Hasid and I sent out our wedding invitations recently! Our motif/ theme/ monogram is as follows:.png)
As you might have imagined, our invitation incorporates our names (and my future last name- see if you can find the letter that starts it) and Beauty and the Beast. Our invitations were made by For You Custom Creations and their phone number is 847.404.5058. And they are absolutely gorgeous.
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As you might have imagined, our invitation incorporates our names (and my future last name- see if you can find the letter that starts it) and Beauty and the Beast. Our invitations were made by For You Custom Creations and their phone number is 847.404.5058. And they are absolutely gorgeous.
When Rashi Isn't Rashi
I love how I walk into Divrei HaYamim class and am happily informed, upon opening Divrei HaYamim, that the commentary that looks like Rashi and is entitled Rashi and quacks like Rashi is in fact not Rashi.
Huzzah for Pseudo-Rashi.
Huzzah for Pseudo-Rashi.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Flintbox
My chatan has a soul that is worth more than rainbows of diamonds,
glittering gems scattered throughout an everlasting room.
To scale him in amethysts would be no merit;
he could not be ransomed for his weight in gold.
A flint kindles a light that fills
worlds, the shadows banished into nowhere.
If you are the flintbox and I am the light,
there shall be no more darkness, nor any night.
glittering gems scattered throughout an everlasting room.
To scale him in amethysts would be no merit;
he could not be ransomed for his weight in gold.
A flint kindles a light that fills
worlds, the shadows banished into nowhere.
If you are the flintbox and I am the light,
there shall be no more darkness, nor any night.
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
Patience
I am used to walking through darkness alone.
Figments of my imagination and shadows of fantasies
lurk painfully in corners of my mind.
They call out- I turn to them- I pity them. I offer them food.
But the beggar ladies in my dreams
are evil
and burn me.
I look at the burn marks on my arms;
the scars are circular and smooth.
I touch one. It smoulders. A half-forgotten mark
of a survival I do not care
to remember.
But then came a companion
whose compassion was bottomless
and whose care was absolute
and who would not be deterred
by beggar ladies or burns.
And he took my hand
and walked with me
and we found ourselves in Paradise.
I torched it
because I was scared.
He rebuilt it.
I am afraid of ecstasy
and pleasure to me is a trap
that leads to torture.
But that's why he starts slow
and we meander thoughtlessly
through groves of orange trees
and mangoes.
Your hands are smooth and they are soft;
they are scented with the scent of tangerines
but though it is good to eat and would afford me much wisdom,
I refrain from this type of knowledge.
The tree we plant will yield fruit
and you will dig me out of the grave.
In my gratitude, what can I offer you
except my soul? But you'll refuse it.
I must give it to you with love
or not at all.
You do not accept debts.
With you, life is a constant Jubilee.
A green shoot blossoms in my heart.
It catches fire, a holy spark
of divine reverence. It is a fire-flower.
Nurture it, for you have the bellows.
A gust of wind
and I will glow.
And in the flickering light
I'll hide my face.
Afraid of yours.
Afraid I'll die.
"Be not afraid of God, love,
for this burning bush is your very soul
and you need not hide from it."
I'll wake up in wonder.
You'll have known all along.
"How did you know?" I'll ask.
"It's simple," you'll say.
"Your soul speaks to me.
I adore you and I worship you
and one day, you will be at peace."
I haven't found it yet.
But I know my companion is expert
at walking through forests tangled with thorns.
And though they rip his skin and he bleeds,
he tears his shirt to bind my feet
so the cloth protects me from harm.
Wordless within me lies my feeling;
I am afraid lest it escape.
Suppressed, I can manage it; if I gave it life
it would overwhelm me. I contain it.
But he senses it; he knows
one day.
Figments of my imagination and shadows of fantasies
lurk painfully in corners of my mind.
They call out- I turn to them- I pity them. I offer them food.
But the beggar ladies in my dreams
are evil
and burn me.
I look at the burn marks on my arms;
the scars are circular and smooth.
I touch one. It smoulders. A half-forgotten mark
of a survival I do not care
to remember.
But then came a companion
whose compassion was bottomless
and whose care was absolute
and who would not be deterred
by beggar ladies or burns.
And he took my hand
and walked with me
and we found ourselves in Paradise.
I torched it
because I was scared.
He rebuilt it.
I am afraid of ecstasy
and pleasure to me is a trap
that leads to torture.
But that's why he starts slow
and we meander thoughtlessly
through groves of orange trees
and mangoes.
Your hands are smooth and they are soft;
they are scented with the scent of tangerines
but though it is good to eat and would afford me much wisdom,
I refrain from this type of knowledge.
The tree we plant will yield fruit
and you will dig me out of the grave.
In my gratitude, what can I offer you
except my soul? But you'll refuse it.
I must give it to you with love
or not at all.
You do not accept debts.
With you, life is a constant Jubilee.
A green shoot blossoms in my heart.
It catches fire, a holy spark
of divine reverence. It is a fire-flower.
Nurture it, for you have the bellows.
A gust of wind
and I will glow.
And in the flickering light
I'll hide my face.
Afraid of yours.
Afraid I'll die.
"Be not afraid of God, love,
for this burning bush is your very soul
and you need not hide from it."
I'll wake up in wonder.
You'll have known all along.
"How did you know?" I'll ask.
"It's simple," you'll say.
"Your soul speaks to me.
I adore you and I worship you
and one day, you will be at peace."
I haven't found it yet.
But I know my companion is expert
at walking through forests tangled with thorns.
And though they rip his skin and he bleeds,
he tears his shirt to bind my feet
so the cloth protects me from harm.
Wordless within me lies my feeling;
I am afraid lest it escape.
Suppressed, I can manage it; if I gave it life
it would overwhelm me. I contain it.
But he senses it; he knows
one day.
Running Up That Hill
'C'mon, baby, c'mon, c'mon, darling,
Let me steal this moment from you now.
C'mon, angel, c'mon, c'mon, darling,
Let's exchange the experience, oh...'
And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
And get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems
-"Running Up That Hill" covered by Placebo
*
God took my grandmother from me this year.
God gave me my husband.
כ וַיָּקָם אִיּוֹב וַיִּקְרַע אֶת מְעִלוֹ, וַיָּגָז אֶת רֹאשׁוֹ; וַיִּפֹּל אַרְצָה, וַיִּשְׁתָּחוּ. 20 Then Job arose, and rent his mantle, and shaved his head, and fell down upon the ground, and worshipped;
כא וַיֹּאמֶר עָרֹם יָצָתִי מִבֶּטֶן אִמִּי, וְעָרֹם אָשׁוּב שָׁמָּה--יְהוָה נָתַן, וַיהוָה לָקָח; יְהִי שֵׁם יְהוָה, מְבֹרָךְ. 21 And he said; naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither; the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.
~Job 1:20-21
Let me steal this moment from you now.
C'mon, angel, c'mon, c'mon, darling,
Let's exchange the experience, oh...'
And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
And get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems
-"Running Up That Hill" covered by Placebo
*
God took my grandmother from me this year.
God gave me my husband.
כ וַיָּקָם אִיּוֹב וַיִּקְרַע אֶת מְעִלוֹ, וַיָּגָז אֶת רֹאשׁוֹ; וַיִּפֹּל אַרְצָה, וַיִּשְׁתָּחוּ. 20 Then Job arose, and rent his mantle, and shaved his head, and fell down upon the ground, and worshipped;
כא וַיֹּאמֶר עָרֹם יָצָתִי מִבֶּטֶן אִמִּי, וְעָרֹם אָשׁוּב שָׁמָּה--יְהוָה נָתַן, וַיהוָה לָקָח; יְהִי שֵׁם יְהוָה, מְבֹרָךְ. 21 And he said; naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither; the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.
~Job 1:20-21
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Unrequited Love
I watched a film recently and the following questions came to mind.
What would you do if you were a girl in love with a boy who was in love with a different girl?
Alternatively, what would you do if you were a boy in love with a girl who was in love with a different boy?
Let's assume the boy or girl you loved agreed to go out with you, maybe even consider you seriously, but they can't shake the fact that they are still in love with someone else.
What do you do then? Is that enough to live on? Suppose one day you go off and settle in Hollywood bliss- but you know your husband is still in love with a different woman, even if he also cares about you.
What would you do if you were a girl in love with a boy who was in love with a different girl?
Alternatively, what would you do if you were a boy in love with a girl who was in love with a different boy?
Let's assume the boy or girl you loved agreed to go out with you, maybe even consider you seriously, but they can't shake the fact that they are still in love with someone else.
What do you do then? Is that enough to live on? Suppose one day you go off and settle in Hollywood bliss- but you know your husband is still in love with a different woman, even if he also cares about you.
Monday, September 06, 2010
Tefillin, Bridegrooms, Deserts & Days of Awe
One of the things I always adored in Jewish liturgy is the passage men say when they lay tefillin. I only discovered it about a year ago (maybe less) and I think it's so divinely beautiful:
"And I will betroth you to me forever, and I will betroth you to me with righteousness, justice, kindness and mercy. I will betroth you to me with fidelity and you shall know God."
In Made in Heaven, page 50, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan writes:
When a man puts on tefillin, he winds the strap three times around his left middle finger and says, "I will betroth you to Me forever. I will betroth you to Me in justice, love and kindness. I will betroth you to Me in faith, and you shall know God" (Hosea 2:21, 22). The strap is thus a renewal of the "marriage" between God and Israel, and it is therefore wound around the finger just like a wedding ring. Then, just as the strap binds man to God, the wedding ring binds the bridegroom to his bride.
I find that image so incredibly, deeply powerful. It's an image which is echoed in so many of the Rav's writings, as he consistently speaks of his romance with the Creator. I love the idea of the relationship between man & God as being that of a lover and beloved, a bride and bridegroom.
I was thinking, in fact, of a point that is often raised in Israel's favor by God. God tells Jeremiah to call through the streets that He remembers the kindness of Israel's youth, how they followed him into the desert, a land that had no food.
ב הָלֹךְ וְקָרָאתָ בְאָזְנֵי יְרוּשָׁלִַם לֵאמֹר, כֹּה אָמַר יְהוָה, זָכַרְתִּי לָךְ חֶסֶד נְעוּרַיִךְ, אַהֲבַת כְּלוּלֹתָיִךְ--לֶכְתֵּךְ אַחֲרַי בַּמִּדְבָּר, בְּאֶרֶץ לֹא זְרוּעָה. 2
Go, and cry in the ears of Jerusalem, saying: Thus saith the LORD: I remember for thee the affection of thy youth, the love of thine espousals; how thou wentest after Me in the wilderness, in a land that was not sown.
The commentaries to this verse say that Israel here put her total trust in God; she followed Him even though the land was not sown and she did not know where she would get food to eat or water to drink from. She loved Him and this was enough for her.
I think the same relationship occurs by the bride and the bridegroom. Every marriage, even if one knows the other person well, allows for some uncertainty, so that one follows the other blindly, trusting to them and hoping that in the end all shall be well.
Betrothing oneself anew to God every morning is a re-commitment to Him and to loving Him for that day and a recognition, once again, that we shall follow Him into the desert despite their being no food, borne aloft simply by our love for Him.
It's very exciting because we are so close to the Birthday of the World, Rosh Hashana, the day that God created man, who then consistently chooses to bind himself to his Bridegroom. Rosh Hashana is like our anniversary; it's the day we came into being, the day that relationship between God and man was founded, the day we get to begin again. It's a joyous day- a holy day- such a happy day! We come happily to pray to the God who loves us and who formed us on this, the Birthday of the World.
"Hayom haras olam," was, since I was a little girl, my favorite part of the Mussaf Amidah. It made me very happy to think of the world having a birthday and of Hashem celebrating it with all of us present, of the way that we would go home to eat festive meals with pretty translucent honey-jars and have birthday parties in honor of creation. For me, birthdays were always so special- so it followed that the Birthday of the World was even more exciting!
And here we go again- we get to experience betrothals and birthdays anew in just a couple more days. Tis very happymaking.
"And I will betroth you to me forever, and I will betroth you to me with righteousness, justice, kindness and mercy. I will betroth you to me with fidelity and you shall know God."
In Made in Heaven, page 50, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan writes:
When a man puts on tefillin, he winds the strap three times around his left middle finger and says, "I will betroth you to Me forever. I will betroth you to Me in justice, love and kindness. I will betroth you to Me in faith, and you shall know God" (Hosea 2:21, 22). The strap is thus a renewal of the "marriage" between God and Israel, and it is therefore wound around the finger just like a wedding ring. Then, just as the strap binds man to God, the wedding ring binds the bridegroom to his bride.
I find that image so incredibly, deeply powerful. It's an image which is echoed in so many of the Rav's writings, as he consistently speaks of his romance with the Creator. I love the idea of the relationship between man & God as being that of a lover and beloved, a bride and bridegroom.
I was thinking, in fact, of a point that is often raised in Israel's favor by God. God tells Jeremiah to call through the streets that He remembers the kindness of Israel's youth, how they followed him into the desert, a land that had no food.
ב הָלֹךְ וְקָרָאתָ בְאָזְנֵי יְרוּשָׁלִַם לֵאמֹר, כֹּה אָמַר יְהוָה, זָכַרְתִּי לָךְ חֶסֶד נְעוּרַיִךְ, אַהֲבַת כְּלוּלֹתָיִךְ--לֶכְתֵּךְ אַחֲרַי בַּמִּדְבָּר, בְּאֶרֶץ לֹא זְרוּעָה. 2
Go, and cry in the ears of Jerusalem, saying: Thus saith the LORD: I remember for thee the affection of thy youth, the love of thine espousals; how thou wentest after Me in the wilderness, in a land that was not sown.
The commentaries to this verse say that Israel here put her total trust in God; she followed Him even though the land was not sown and she did not know where she would get food to eat or water to drink from. She loved Him and this was enough for her.
I think the same relationship occurs by the bride and the bridegroom. Every marriage, even if one knows the other person well, allows for some uncertainty, so that one follows the other blindly, trusting to them and hoping that in the end all shall be well.
Betrothing oneself anew to God every morning is a re-commitment to Him and to loving Him for that day and a recognition, once again, that we shall follow Him into the desert despite their being no food, borne aloft simply by our love for Him.
It's very exciting because we are so close to the Birthday of the World, Rosh Hashana, the day that God created man, who then consistently chooses to bind himself to his Bridegroom. Rosh Hashana is like our anniversary; it's the day we came into being, the day that relationship between God and man was founded, the day we get to begin again. It's a joyous day- a holy day- such a happy day! We come happily to pray to the God who loves us and who formed us on this, the Birthday of the World.
"Hayom haras olam," was, since I was a little girl, my favorite part of the Mussaf Amidah. It made me very happy to think of the world having a birthday and of Hashem celebrating it with all of us present, of the way that we would go home to eat festive meals with pretty translucent honey-jars and have birthday parties in honor of creation. For me, birthdays were always so special- so it followed that the Birthday of the World was even more exciting!
And here we go again- we get to experience betrothals and birthdays anew in just a couple more days. Tis very happymaking.
Guide To A Jewish Wedding
I recently attended an (Orthodox) Jewish wedding and they handed out this wonderful guide that I figured would be useful to type up so that everyone could see exactly how a Jewish wedding progresses. Otherwise, it can be a bit confusing- what's the deal with the chuppah? And what's going to happen next? So behold: the guide to a Jewish wedding.
Kabbalat Panim
On the day of their wedding, the bride and groom are likened to a king and queen. They greet their guests in two different rooms. At the groom's reception, the ketubah (marriage contract) is signed, which outlines the obligations the groom takes upon himself in marrying the bride.
Badekin
Family and friends dance with the groom as he enters the other room to see his bride. Upon reaching the bride, the groom places the veil over her face. This custom recalls the Biblical passage in which Rebecca covered her face with a veil upon seeing Isaac before their betrothal (Genesis 24:65).
Chuppah
The wedding ceremony takes place under the chuppah, or canopy, a symbol of the home that the couple will build together. The bride and groom are escorted to the chuppah by their parents. When the groom arrives, he puts on a kittel, a white garment symbolizing purity. The bride arrives after the groom, and she circles him seven times. The ceremony then consists of two distinct rituals that are separated by the reading of the ketubah.
Kiddushin
The first ritual consists of the blessing over wine and a blessing praising God for the sanctity of marriage. In the presence of two witnesses, the groom recites "Behold you are consecrated to me with this ring in accordance with the laws of Moses and Israel." He then places the ring on the bride's finger.
Ketubah
The marriage contract is read in the original Aramaic. It outlines the groom's responsibilities to provide his wife with food, shelter and clothing, and to be attentive to her emotional needs.
Nissuin
After the ketubah is read, the Sheva Brachot (the seven nuptial blessings) are recited over a second cup of wine. They acknowledge the Almighty for creating the universe and mankind, and they express hope for happiness, love and peace for the bride and groom. At the conclusion, the bride and groom drink the wine. The groom then shatters a glass with his foot, reminding us that even at moments of intense joy, we must remember the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash (The Temple) in Jerusalem.
Yichud
The bride and groom are danced away from the chuppah and escorted to a private room where they will spend the first few moments of their married life alone. This seclusion finalizes their marriage.
Dancing and Seudat Mitzvah
The wedding meal is then celebrated with a seudah, or festive meal. Following the meal, Birkat HaMazon (Grace after Meals) is recited along with the same Sheva Brachot (seven nuptial blessings) that were recited under the chuppah.
If you are interested in making a Jewish wedding or learning more about the origins of the customs and rituals, there's a wonderful, warmly written, explanatory book by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan entitled Made in Heaven: A Jewish Wedding Guide. And of course, you could also ask me questions, if you feel more comfortable with that.
Kabbalat Panim
On the day of their wedding, the bride and groom are likened to a king and queen. They greet their guests in two different rooms. At the groom's reception, the ketubah (marriage contract) is signed, which outlines the obligations the groom takes upon himself in marrying the bride.
Badekin
Family and friends dance with the groom as he enters the other room to see his bride. Upon reaching the bride, the groom places the veil over her face. This custom recalls the Biblical passage in which Rebecca covered her face with a veil upon seeing Isaac before their betrothal (Genesis 24:65).
Chuppah
The wedding ceremony takes place under the chuppah, or canopy, a symbol of the home that the couple will build together. The bride and groom are escorted to the chuppah by their parents. When the groom arrives, he puts on a kittel, a white garment symbolizing purity. The bride arrives after the groom, and she circles him seven times. The ceremony then consists of two distinct rituals that are separated by the reading of the ketubah.
Kiddushin
The first ritual consists of the blessing over wine and a blessing praising God for the sanctity of marriage. In the presence of two witnesses, the groom recites "Behold you are consecrated to me with this ring in accordance with the laws of Moses and Israel." He then places the ring on the bride's finger.
Ketubah
The marriage contract is read in the original Aramaic. It outlines the groom's responsibilities to provide his wife with food, shelter and clothing, and to be attentive to her emotional needs.
Nissuin
After the ketubah is read, the Sheva Brachot (the seven nuptial blessings) are recited over a second cup of wine. They acknowledge the Almighty for creating the universe and mankind, and they express hope for happiness, love and peace for the bride and groom. At the conclusion, the bride and groom drink the wine. The groom then shatters a glass with his foot, reminding us that even at moments of intense joy, we must remember the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash (The Temple) in Jerusalem.
Yichud
The bride and groom are danced away from the chuppah and escorted to a private room where they will spend the first few moments of their married life alone. This seclusion finalizes their marriage.
Dancing and Seudat Mitzvah
The wedding meal is then celebrated with a seudah, or festive meal. Following the meal, Birkat HaMazon (Grace after Meals) is recited along with the same Sheva Brachot (seven nuptial blessings) that were recited under the chuppah.
If you are interested in making a Jewish wedding or learning more about the origins of the customs and rituals, there's a wonderful, warmly written, explanatory book by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan entitled Made in Heaven: A Jewish Wedding Guide. And of course, you could also ask me questions, if you feel more comfortable with that.
Sunday, September 05, 2010
Magical Evening (Out Of A Film)
I just had the most amazing evening and it included drinking Cabernet Sauvignon out of crystal flutes on a grassy lawn under a star-studded sky alongside Heshy.
Thank you so much, Jeff!
Thank you so much, Jeff!
The Quality Of Your Kugel
I had seen a copy of Binah Magazine lying around and had been curious about it so I asked Ma for a copy of it. This is an old issue and I haven't read the most recent issue yet, but let me just say that if the woman in this story marries this man, I think I will scream in frustrated rage.
This is an excerpt from Chapter 26 of "Pass Or Fail" by Sara Wiederblank as published in Volume 4, No. 195 on August 9, 2010.
"I'm sure you do. But I really want to hear your answer to my question."
"What girls do in school? They learn, they have discussions, they socialize, they have activities...I'm not really sure what you're asking."
"The thing is, shouldn't they be doing more home economics and cooking, and less of the heavy-duty inside-a-sefer type of stuff?"
Bracha gave him a look. "Oh, not you now," she said.
"What did I say?" he asked plaintively.
"I'm surprised at you," she said reprovingly. "I expect- and I get- that question from my struggling students and their parents. But you, someone who learns in yeshivah- do you really think the quality of your kugel is more important than your wife's knowledge of Torah?"
Eliezer thought a minute. "I'll be honest with you- lots of guys, like myself, care about how good the food is, but don't care very much about how much their wife knows about the Ramban's wife of hashgachah pratis. Do you think we're wrong?"
"How can I say you're wrong if that's how you feel? But I do think it's shallow. If a boy is going to be learning- even if he's not- and he's going to have children, who are going to need to be raised in the proper path- the best cook in the world won't do as good a job supporting him and raising them if she doesn't have a deeper understanding of how to be a good Jew. At least that's my opinion."
Eliezer smiled. "Mine too. In fact- if a girl is going to be supporting someone in learning- shouldn't she make her career plans accordingly? To show that it really matters to her?"
Bracha straightened up. "Are you referring to me?"
"I guess so," he shrugged. "It has crossed my mind to be concerned about the financial aspect of things. Since I am planning on learning for a while, you know."
"I have quite a tidy sum saved up from my time in accounting," Bracha told him tightly. "And I can return to that field at any time. I am extremely committed to keeping a husband in learning."
He had the good grace to look chagrined. "I must apologize," he said. "That was very rude of me- grilling you on your financial status. I didn't mean for it to come out exactly like it did. I just have been wondering what your plans were, and it came out poorly. I have no doubt you're committed. It just seems strange- leaving a great job like you had for teaching."
"I do draw a salary here too, you know," Bracha informed him, not quite ready to forgive and forget.
He laughed uproariously. "You call that pittance a salary?" he asked, reminding Bracha that he was familiar with the field- intimately so.
When he saw the look on her face, though, he broke off laughing immediately.
"I'm sorry. You'll think I have no idealism. I do, really. It's just that...I'm also a pretty practical guy. That's all. Now, this conversation is not heading exactly where I wanted it to head. The thing is..." he leaned forward.
"We're getting to a point, well, where we should...you know...think seriously about what we're up to."
~
This piece infuriates me; it brings back all the reasons that I hate Bais Yaakov. Assumptions in this piece:
1. Girls' learning isn't important. They should just learn how to cook.
2. Rather than telling the man he is a COMPLETE IDIOT for saying that the quality of his kugel matters more than his wife's mind, the woman replies with the meek, "How can I say you're wrong if that's how you feel?" Let me tell you something! I, Chana, have no problem telling such a man that he is wrong and he's also a bleeping idiot and he can go to hell. At least, thank the Almighty God, Bracha tells him it's shallow.
3. This is just a critique of the story- one second Eliezer is saying that he thinks the quality of his kugel is more important than his wife's mind. All of a sudden, after a one-paragraph speech by her, he agrees with her opinion? What's up with that?
4. The avaricious entitlement of the Kollel approach, as demonstrated by the fact that he thinks it's fine to basically insinuate that this woman should leave her job teaching and go back to accounting simply because that way she'll be able to support their (assuming she marries him) prospective family better.
5. His insulting her ideals- "you call that pittance a salary?"
This man is a jerk and if this Bracha person ends up marrying him in the story I am going to scream. So someone who has read the rest of the piece, tell me, do I need to have a rage-fest or not?
Incidentally, the reason this bothers me so much is because all the impressionable young frum girls read this magazine and if the man ends up marrying the woman, they are going to come away with the impression that all the points I mentioned above (that girls should just learn to cook and make top-tier kugel and should get jobs that make more money so they can support their kollel-learning husbands) are correct and they should model themselves after this girl. Which is completely and utterly wrong and infuriating and I hate stupid men with their idiotic desire to have robotic Stepford Wives instead of people who actually think.
This is an excerpt from Chapter 26 of "Pass Or Fail" by Sara Wiederblank as published in Volume 4, No. 195 on August 9, 2010.
"I'm sure you do. But I really want to hear your answer to my question."
"What girls do in school? They learn, they have discussions, they socialize, they have activities...I'm not really sure what you're asking."
"The thing is, shouldn't they be doing more home economics and cooking, and less of the heavy-duty inside-a-sefer type of stuff?"
Bracha gave him a look. "Oh, not you now," she said.
"What did I say?" he asked plaintively.
"I'm surprised at you," she said reprovingly. "I expect- and I get- that question from my struggling students and their parents. But you, someone who learns in yeshivah- do you really think the quality of your kugel is more important than your wife's knowledge of Torah?"
Eliezer thought a minute. "I'll be honest with you- lots of guys, like myself, care about how good the food is, but don't care very much about how much their wife knows about the Ramban's wife of hashgachah pratis. Do you think we're wrong?"
"How can I say you're wrong if that's how you feel? But I do think it's shallow. If a boy is going to be learning- even if he's not- and he's going to have children, who are going to need to be raised in the proper path- the best cook in the world won't do as good a job supporting him and raising them if she doesn't have a deeper understanding of how to be a good Jew. At least that's my opinion."
Eliezer smiled. "Mine too. In fact- if a girl is going to be supporting someone in learning- shouldn't she make her career plans accordingly? To show that it really matters to her?"
Bracha straightened up. "Are you referring to me?"
"I guess so," he shrugged. "It has crossed my mind to be concerned about the financial aspect of things. Since I am planning on learning for a while, you know."
"I have quite a tidy sum saved up from my time in accounting," Bracha told him tightly. "And I can return to that field at any time. I am extremely committed to keeping a husband in learning."
He had the good grace to look chagrined. "I must apologize," he said. "That was very rude of me- grilling you on your financial status. I didn't mean for it to come out exactly like it did. I just have been wondering what your plans were, and it came out poorly. I have no doubt you're committed. It just seems strange- leaving a great job like you had for teaching."
"I do draw a salary here too, you know," Bracha informed him, not quite ready to forgive and forget.
He laughed uproariously. "You call that pittance a salary?" he asked, reminding Bracha that he was familiar with the field- intimately so.
When he saw the look on her face, though, he broke off laughing immediately.
"I'm sorry. You'll think I have no idealism. I do, really. It's just that...I'm also a pretty practical guy. That's all. Now, this conversation is not heading exactly where I wanted it to head. The thing is..." he leaned forward.
"We're getting to a point, well, where we should...you know...think seriously about what we're up to."
~
This piece infuriates me; it brings back all the reasons that I hate Bais Yaakov. Assumptions in this piece:
1. Girls' learning isn't important. They should just learn how to cook.
2. Rather than telling the man he is a COMPLETE IDIOT for saying that the quality of his kugel matters more than his wife's mind, the woman replies with the meek, "How can I say you're wrong if that's how you feel?" Let me tell you something! I, Chana, have no problem telling such a man that he is wrong and he's also a bleeping idiot and he can go to hell. At least, thank the Almighty God, Bracha tells him it's shallow.
3. This is just a critique of the story- one second Eliezer is saying that he thinks the quality of his kugel is more important than his wife's mind. All of a sudden, after a one-paragraph speech by her, he agrees with her opinion? What's up with that?
4. The avaricious entitlement of the Kollel approach, as demonstrated by the fact that he thinks it's fine to basically insinuate that this woman should leave her job teaching and go back to accounting simply because that way she'll be able to support their (assuming she marries him) prospective family better.
5. His insulting her ideals- "you call that pittance a salary?"
This man is a jerk and if this Bracha person ends up marrying him in the story I am going to scream. So someone who has read the rest of the piece, tell me, do I need to have a rage-fest or not?
Incidentally, the reason this bothers me so much is because all the impressionable young frum girls read this magazine and if the man ends up marrying the woman, they are going to come away with the impression that all the points I mentioned above (that girls should just learn to cook and make top-tier kugel and should get jobs that make more money so they can support their kollel-learning husbands) are correct and they should model themselves after this girl. Which is completely and utterly wrong and infuriating and I hate stupid men with their idiotic desire to have robotic Stepford Wives instead of people who actually think.
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Broken Engagements
One of my best friends, Estee Goldschmidt, researched and wrote an article in The Jewish Press on "Broken Engagements, Shattered Hearts." And my lady of the radiance receives her public tribute as this blog is quoted.
A Happy God
Last night I had the great privilege and honor of attending a wedding that encompassed the union of a member of one of my favorite families to an incredibly lovely lady. The bride and the groom are both high achievers, clever and otherwise fantastic people.
Getting to that wedding was a whole adventure. It included a train-ride, a frantic dash, a bus to another bus and the bus-driver dropping us off half-a-mile away from the correct stop, another frantic dash only to arrive literally 2 minutes before the chuppah started. But we made it. As for my ride back, a couple was kind enough to drop me off by 59th Street Station and so I rode the 1 train home.
But that's not what I wanted to talk about.
I wanted to talk about the wedding. Because there was so much love and emotion in the air. It was simple and beautiful simultaneously. The groom was lucky enough to have his father, who is a Rav, as the mesader kiddushin. I think there's something so special about being able to have one's father act as person who ties the two of you together. But what I perhaps enjoyed most was the speech under the chuppah by one of the honored guests. He spoke about light and how the two people who were to be wed were so filled with light, even overflowing with light. I liked the image of light shining from the souls of the happy couple.
I also liked that after he broke the glass they paused and gave hugs to all of their family members under the chuppah. Only afterwards were they danced off to the yichud room.
There was something really wholesome about this wedding- you could see that it had been created without disagreement of any kind. In fact, the father of the groom spoke about what a pleasure it had been to work with his mechutanim to create the affair and how smoothly it had gone. I think the simplicity mixed with the redolent aroma of that fragrance from Gan Eden, the Besamim, was what I felt there. I also loved that the father of the groom wished his children the ability to create a miniature Gan Eden, a little paradise, in their house.
The father of the bride also spoke from his heart. It's rare to be at a wedding where people are not loading you up on pleasantries and flattering expressions but really saying what they mean. Short, sweet and real.
(I happen to love the couple's attitude in general. Earlier they had told me that they had a completely empty apartment at the moment- either it was with naught but a bed or they were hoping a bed would arrive before they had to move into it. I suppose as gifts arrive, they shall have unpacking frenzies! In any case, they seemed quite all right with this state of affairs. I'm a fan of people who are not excitable when it comes to these trivialities.)
And I was totally and entirely and truly happy at this wedding. And I felt like God saw everything and rejoiced. A happy God.
Getting to that wedding was a whole adventure. It included a train-ride, a frantic dash, a bus to another bus and the bus-driver dropping us off half-a-mile away from the correct stop, another frantic dash only to arrive literally 2 minutes before the chuppah started. But we made it. As for my ride back, a couple was kind enough to drop me off by 59th Street Station and so I rode the 1 train home.
But that's not what I wanted to talk about.
I wanted to talk about the wedding. Because there was so much love and emotion in the air. It was simple and beautiful simultaneously. The groom was lucky enough to have his father, who is a Rav, as the mesader kiddushin. I think there's something so special about being able to have one's father act as person who ties the two of you together. But what I perhaps enjoyed most was the speech under the chuppah by one of the honored guests. He spoke about light and how the two people who were to be wed were so filled with light, even overflowing with light. I liked the image of light shining from the souls of the happy couple.
I also liked that after he broke the glass they paused and gave hugs to all of their family members under the chuppah. Only afterwards were they danced off to the yichud room.
There was something really wholesome about this wedding- you could see that it had been created without disagreement of any kind. In fact, the father of the groom spoke about what a pleasure it had been to work with his mechutanim to create the affair and how smoothly it had gone. I think the simplicity mixed with the redolent aroma of that fragrance from Gan Eden, the Besamim, was what I felt there. I also loved that the father of the groom wished his children the ability to create a miniature Gan Eden, a little paradise, in their house.
The father of the bride also spoke from his heart. It's rare to be at a wedding where people are not loading you up on pleasantries and flattering expressions but really saying what they mean. Short, sweet and real.
(I happen to love the couple's attitude in general. Earlier they had told me that they had a completely empty apartment at the moment- either it was with naught but a bed or they were hoping a bed would arrive before they had to move into it. I suppose as gifts arrive, they shall have unpacking frenzies! In any case, they seemed quite all right with this state of affairs. I'm a fan of people who are not excitable when it comes to these trivialities.)
And I was totally and entirely and truly happy at this wedding. And I felt like God saw everything and rejoiced. A happy God.
Wednesday, September 01, 2010
Tell Me What You Know. Tell Me What You've Gone And Done Now.
It's no surprise that I love Nickleback and specifically Chad. Lightman cannot stand the screeching sounds and raspy voices of the band but they make me happy.
Their album "Dark Horse" contains a song entitled Just to Get High which I seem not to have interpreted in its literal sense. Oh, I'm aware that in reality this song is about a drug addict but the chorus plays in my ears as strongly as a commandment from God. It fits the mood which we are in, that of the High Holy Days and specifically Rosh Hashana.
But I can still remember what his face looked like
When I found him in an alley in the middle of the night
Tell me what you know! Tell me what you've gone and done now!
Tell me what you know! Tell me what you've gone and done now!
Gonna do the trick, get it over with
You're better off
To take all that you've got and burn it on the spot
Just to get high-igh, igh, igh (high-igh, igh, igh)
Tell me what did, where you got a hit
Show me
What you really want, was it what you got
Slowly
Circle in the drain, throw it all away
Just to get high-igh, igh, igh (high-igh, igh, igh)
High-igh, igh...oooooh
And to me, what the song really seems to be asking is: what did you do this year that was wrong? What sins do you have? Tell them to me- tell me what you've gone and done now- and tell me- did you get what you really wanted? Was it worth it? Was the pinprick of pleasure that lanced through your lips worth the pain that followed?
"Tell me what you know; tell me what you've gone and done now," entreats God. And think about it. Tell me, Chana, my child, "what you really want, was it what you got?"
And I love the beginning of the song as well:
He was my best friend; I tried to help him
But he traded everything, for suffering
And found himself alone
I watched the lying, turn into hiding
With scars on both his lips; his fingertips
Were melted to the bone
That image is deeply evocative to me. Yes, that can be the drug addict hidden in the alley, having chosen drugs over his health. But is it so different from the one who chooses sin over holiness? Or stagnation over growth?
He was my best friend; I tried to help him/ But he traded everything for suffering
I also admire the fact that the song presents this as a choice. We choose suffering. Not always, but often. If we can choose suffering, it suggests we can also choose life.
And that's what God says in Deuteronomy 30:
יט הַעִדֹתִי בָכֶם הַיּוֹם, אֶת-הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֶת-הָאָרֶץ--הַחַיִּים וְהַמָּוֶת נָתַתִּי לְפָנֶיךָ, הַבְּרָכָה וְהַקְּלָלָה; וּבָחַרְתָּ, בַּחַיִּים--לְמַעַן תִּחְיֶה, אַתָּה וְזַרְעֶךָ. 19 I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day, that I have set before thee life and death, the blessing and the curse; therefore choose life, that thou mayest live, thou and thy seed;
כ לְאַהֲבָה אֶת-יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ, לִשְׁמֹעַ בְּקֹלוֹ וּלְדָבְקָה-בוֹ: כִּי הוּא חַיֶּיךָ, וְאֹרֶךְ יָמֶיךָ--לָשֶׁבֶת עַל-הָאֲדָמָה אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע יְהוָה לַאֲבֹתֶיךָ לְאַבְרָהָם לְיִצְחָק וּלְיַעֲקֹב, לָתֵת לָהֶם. {פ} 20 to love the LORD thy God, to hearken to His voice, and to cleave unto Him; for that is thy life, and the length of thy days; that thou mayest dwell in the land which the LORD swore unto thy fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give them. {P}
Did I choose suffering this past year? Will I choose it in the future?
And that voice, so commanding, sonorous in my ears: "Tell me what you know! Tell me what you gone and done now."
Their album "Dark Horse" contains a song entitled Just to Get High which I seem not to have interpreted in its literal sense. Oh, I'm aware that in reality this song is about a drug addict but the chorus plays in my ears as strongly as a commandment from God. It fits the mood which we are in, that of the High Holy Days and specifically Rosh Hashana.
But I can still remember what his face looked like
When I found him in an alley in the middle of the night
Tell me what you know! Tell me what you've gone and done now!
Tell me what you know! Tell me what you've gone and done now!
Gonna do the trick, get it over with
You're better off
To take all that you've got and burn it on the spot
Just to get high-igh, igh, igh (high-igh, igh, igh)
Tell me what did, where you got a hit
Show me
What you really want, was it what you got
Slowly
Circle in the drain, throw it all away
Just to get high-igh, igh, igh (high-igh, igh, igh)
High-igh, igh...oooooh
And to me, what the song really seems to be asking is: what did you do this year that was wrong? What sins do you have? Tell them to me- tell me what you've gone and done now- and tell me- did you get what you really wanted? Was it worth it? Was the pinprick of pleasure that lanced through your lips worth the pain that followed?
"Tell me what you know; tell me what you've gone and done now," entreats God. And think about it. Tell me, Chana, my child, "what you really want, was it what you got?"
And I love the beginning of the song as well:
He was my best friend; I tried to help him
But he traded everything, for suffering
And found himself alone
I watched the lying, turn into hiding
With scars on both his lips; his fingertips
Were melted to the bone
That image is deeply evocative to me. Yes, that can be the drug addict hidden in the alley, having chosen drugs over his health. But is it so different from the one who chooses sin over holiness? Or stagnation over growth?
He was my best friend; I tried to help him/ But he traded everything for suffering
I also admire the fact that the song presents this as a choice. We choose suffering. Not always, but often. If we can choose suffering, it suggests we can also choose life.
And that's what God says in Deuteronomy 30:
יט הַעִדֹתִי בָכֶם הַיּוֹם, אֶת-הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֶת-הָאָרֶץ--הַחַיִּים וְהַמָּוֶת נָתַתִּי לְפָנֶיךָ, הַבְּרָכָה וְהַקְּלָלָה; וּבָחַרְתָּ, בַּחַיִּים--לְמַעַן תִּחְיֶה, אַתָּה וְזַרְעֶךָ. 19 I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day, that I have set before thee life and death, the blessing and the curse; therefore choose life, that thou mayest live, thou and thy seed;
כ לְאַהֲבָה אֶת-יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ, לִשְׁמֹעַ בְּקֹלוֹ וּלְדָבְקָה-בוֹ: כִּי הוּא חַיֶּיךָ, וְאֹרֶךְ יָמֶיךָ--לָשֶׁבֶת עַל-הָאֲדָמָה אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע יְהוָה לַאֲבֹתֶיךָ לְאַבְרָהָם לְיִצְחָק וּלְיַעֲקֹב, לָתֵת לָהֶם. {פ} 20 to love the LORD thy God, to hearken to His voice, and to cleave unto Him; for that is thy life, and the length of thy days; that thou mayest dwell in the land which the LORD swore unto thy fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give them. {P}
Did I choose suffering this past year? Will I choose it in the future?
And that voice, so commanding, sonorous in my ears: "Tell me what you know! Tell me what you gone and done now."
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Nobody Laughs On The Subway™
On the 1 train coming home from work today, I burst out laughing. I had just read a very funny passage in The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs and it literally made me laugh out loud.
At which point, I realized something fascinating.
Nobody laughs on the subway.
That sounds like the title of a book, which is why I have trademarked it. Nobody Laughs On The Subway™ is my own discovery. No one will take it from me. The subway, you see, is a joyless place. Panhandlers, crying children, wailing babes and irritated commuters galore exist. Overloud music that spills out of adjacent people's (or in bad cases, even those across the car) earbuds and earphones adds to the atmosphere. So do the conductors, who can at times be extremely amusing (think today, with the man who hollered 'Y'all gonna just stand there or are you gonna stand clear of the closing doors?') But there is no laughter. None.
It was only once I laughed that I realized how the sound of unbridled joy disturbed the hush of the otherwise air-conditioned air whose silence is disturbed only by automated voices and dirty looks.
And so I have come up with a brilliant initiative. It is so brilliant that Improv Everywhere should have thought of it.
The idea is to spread joy on the subway. In short, to laugh. Not just smile but laugh! Infect fellow subway goers with cheer. Make people's lives happy!
And we can have laughter sightings on the subway!
At which point, I realized something fascinating.
Nobody laughs on the subway.
That sounds like the title of a book, which is why I have trademarked it. Nobody Laughs On The Subway™ is my own discovery. No one will take it from me. The subway, you see, is a joyless place. Panhandlers, crying children, wailing babes and irritated commuters galore exist. Overloud music that spills out of adjacent people's (or in bad cases, even those across the car) earbuds and earphones adds to the atmosphere. So do the conductors, who can at times be extremely amusing (think today, with the man who hollered 'Y'all gonna just stand there or are you gonna stand clear of the closing doors?') But there is no laughter. None.
It was only once I laughed that I realized how the sound of unbridled joy disturbed the hush of the otherwise air-conditioned air whose silence is disturbed only by automated voices and dirty looks.
And so I have come up with a brilliant initiative. It is so brilliant that Improv Everywhere should have thought of it.
The idea is to spread joy on the subway. In short, to laugh. Not just smile but laugh! Infect fellow subway goers with cheer. Make people's lives happy!
And we can have laughter sightings on the subway!
Thursday, August 26, 2010
A Guide to Unofficial Shidduch Breeding Grounds
"In Search of the Real Deal" who has the tagline "Cuz Princess, You Ain't In Disney Land No More" is probably one of my favorite bloggers. She wrote a fantastic, informative, hilarious and yet entirely accurate post entitled "A Guide to Unofficial Shidduch Breeding Grounds."
Of these, my father was part of Bnei Akiva and worked at Moshava Wildrose. My brothers did Snif, I went to Camp Stone, I do NCSY and I know people involved in every other 'unofficial shidduch breeding ground' she mentions (from Aish to HASC to the Mt. Sinai social scene). Humorous, entertaining, lighthearted and true. Give it up for our coral blogger.
Of these, my father was part of Bnei Akiva and worked at Moshava Wildrose. My brothers did Snif, I went to Camp Stone, I do NCSY and I know people involved in every other 'unofficial shidduch breeding ground' she mentions (from Aish to HASC to the Mt. Sinai social scene). Humorous, entertaining, lighthearted and true. Give it up for our coral blogger.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
It's Hard Work (And You Might Die Trying)
And all at once the crowd begins to sing
Sometimes
We'd never know what's wrong without the pain
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same
~"All at Once" by the Fray
*
Many of us have experienced loss. And if we haven't yet, it's probable that one day we will. We lose friends and family to devastating illnesses. We lose people whom we thought were our entire lives. We lose precious possessions. Perhaps, as we age, we even lose memories. And when we lose something, our entire being craves to get it back, to hold onto it. We've often been told that time will help us get over our loss, that with the advent of time, pain will go away.
Well, that's not true. I've written before about how that isn't true.
Nothing will make our loss hurt less grievously if we are unwilling to let it go. All the time in the world will not help so long as we cling to our corners of the altar, thinking in this way that we can escape the death penalty. We don't realize that King Solomon is standing by and he will order Joab slaughtered nonetheless. We have confused ourselves with Adonijah and think we may be shown mercy.
Some people, perhaps those who grieve less fiercely, may indeed be pacified by time. Their hurt will be ameliorated. And for the rest of us? What shall we do?
Well, we shall work.
It is hard work. It is painful work. It is work that may involve cutting connections with all that reminds us of our loss. It is work that may have us doubling over in pain and choking on tears. It is work that may involve spending time in a therapist's office. It is work that may have us shouting in anger at God, our parents, our friends, anyone and no one. It is work we desperately want to avoid and want to pretend isn't necessary. It is not forgetting- for who can forget that which made them who they are? It is assigning it its proper place, refusing to allow it to murder our chances for a future.
And Satan insidiously whispers in your ear, telling you that this work is a desecration, a trampling of all that you had and loved. He wants you to remain in this pit of gloomy darkness, lost within the caverns of your mind forevermore. So long as you are there, you cannot be elsewhere and so long as you are there, you can do nothing but mourn. You are paralyzed by your mourning, living your life in homage to this shrine of memory, caught fast within bonds that you lovingly kiss.
You may even believe that to leave this cave, to choose not to live your life in homage to memory, as a sacrifice to what was, you are acting in a cowardly fashion. You have chosen something lesser, something less meaningful and valuable instead of that godliness you had once known.
But that's a lie.
It will not feel like a lie. Indeed, your body will scream, protesting the betrayal you advance by bending it to your will, by making those feet step out into a terribly uncertain future. It will feel like a truth and only your mind and the strength of your will can assure you that it is a lie.
Because anything which holds you hostage, which forbids you a future, which consigns you to a life lived only in pain, a life of loss and unhappiness, cannot be what God wishes for you. Instead, your mandate is to work harder, to attempt to overcome, to move forward. And you must do this of your own will- not simply stepping onto the rollercoaster- but building your vehicle, engine by wheel by accelerator.
It's hard work and you might die trying but at least you died reaching for the light.
The bravest people you'll ever meet- and there are none braver than these- are the ones who do what must be done even though they are scared to death, even though they don't want to do it, even though they aren't even sure if the results will be worth it. They're the soldiers who walk into battle, the firefighters running into a burning house, the people who override their internal scream for self-preservation with their minds and insist that their task is more important than their fear. And you don't have to be a soldier or a firefighter to be one of these.
Choosing to move forward beyond what you know and crave, what is safe and familiar and loved, loved sometimes even if painful, is the choice to reach for the light. It's the hardest thing there is.
And you are stronger than you know.
Siyum Time!
Mazal Tov to my brother Taran and his chavrusa Aaron on their making a siyum tonight on Masechtes Shabbos, which comprises 157 blatt. This was their summer project and they learned 3 blatt a day.
Mazel Tov to my esteemed compatriots The Shipper & Joseph the Dreamer on their completion of the entire Shulchan Aruch on Hilchos Nidah.
So exciting to have all these siyumim happening. *smiles*
Mazel Tov to my esteemed compatriots The Shipper & Joseph the Dreamer on their completion of the entire Shulchan Aruch on Hilchos Nidah.
So exciting to have all these siyumim happening. *smiles*
Thursday, August 19, 2010
The Sword and the Pen
There is something deeply affecting, deeply haunting in this song by Regina Spektor.
How can one song concurrently serve as a love story, lament, protest and yet reveal an exquisitely controlled pain?
~
"The Sword and the Pen"
Don't let me get out of this kiss
Don't let me say what I say
The things that scare us today
what if they happen someday
Don't let me out of your arms
For now
What if the sword kills the pen
What if the god kills the man
And if he does it with love
Well then it's death from above
And death from above is still a death
I don't want to live without you
I don't want to live without you
I don't want to live
I don't want to live
Without you
For those who still can recall
The desperate colors of fall
The sweet caresses of May
Only in poems remain
No one recites them these days
For the shame
So what if nothing is safe
So what if no one is saved
No matter how sweet
No matter how brave
What if each to his own lonely grave
I don't want to live without you
I don't want to live without you
I don't want to live
I don't want to live
Without you
How can one song concurrently serve as a love story, lament, protest and yet reveal an exquisitely controlled pain?
~
"The Sword and the Pen"
Don't let me get out of this kiss
Don't let me say what I say
The things that scare us today
what if they happen someday
Don't let me out of your arms
For now
What if the sword kills the pen
What if the god kills the man
And if he does it with love
Well then it's death from above
And death from above is still a death
I don't want to live without you
I don't want to live without you
I don't want to live
I don't want to live
Without you
For those who still can recall
The desperate colors of fall
The sweet caresses of May
Only in poems remain
No one recites them these days
For the shame
So what if nothing is safe
So what if no one is saved
No matter how sweet
No matter how brave
What if each to his own lonely grave
I don't want to live without you
I don't want to live without you
I don't want to live
I don't want to live
Without you
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Strange & Perplexing Incidents of the Day
- I have a wondrous pack of cheese that I keep in my refrigerator. I keep it within a plastic Ziploc bag, completely covered. Alas, I have discovered it is growing mold. But I simply don't understand- how did the mold spores insinuate their way inside the plastic-covered domain of the cheese?
- Is there nowhere in Manhattan where I can purchase white satin shoes? The selections at the bridal gown stores are not particularly vast. Oddly- and fascinatingly- did you know Payless offers dyeable satin shoes?
-This is a shoutout for Heshy: Yoeli's house, Yanky's house, Moishe's house and several waitresses get together...and maybe the old men come along, too. Perhaps we should include various unpronounceable varieties of French and Italian foods when rewriting the games as well.
-Who wants to recommend places where I can get pretty Sheva Brachot clothes? I prefer gowns/ dresses to suits.
-Does no one else find it deeply disturbing that the young teenagers nowadays talk about 'raping' each others' Facebook walls? Egad. So tasteless. And unrefined. I'm having trouble swallowing my honeyed tea with lemon.
-This lady actually called me a princess. She did! And she lives in my building! Well, what really happened was that I knelt on the floor to open up my mailbox in my building and I was wearing this pink flowy skirt. So this woman says, "Hey, I really love how you look in that skirt kneeling on the floor- you look like a princess!"
-I saw this man on the subway today who was just awesome. Basically, it was incredibly stifling on one of the cars on the 1 train because the air-conditioning had broken down. So this guy (who incidentally was wearing a t-shirt that read 'What I really need are minions') was talking to the lady in the elevator about that and said, "I was sweating through my man-boobs!" And goes, "I believe in calling them what they are- and besides, I got a chuckle out of you and laughter is what the world is all about." And basically he was a really nice guy in New York and funny and just had a really positive attitude toward everything. And I wish he was my friend.
-And I would just like to say: I really need minions.
Peace out, world; we're going to paint rainbows on The Truman Story's set's ceiling tomorrow.
- Is there nowhere in Manhattan where I can purchase white satin shoes? The selections at the bridal gown stores are not particularly vast. Oddly- and fascinatingly- did you know Payless offers dyeable satin shoes?
-This is a shoutout for Heshy: Yoeli's house, Yanky's house, Moishe's house and several waitresses get together...and maybe the old men come along, too. Perhaps we should include various unpronounceable varieties of French and Italian foods when rewriting the games as well.
-Who wants to recommend places where I can get pretty Sheva Brachot clothes? I prefer gowns/ dresses to suits.
-Does no one else find it deeply disturbing that the young teenagers nowadays talk about 'raping' each others' Facebook walls? Egad. So tasteless. And unrefined. I'm having trouble swallowing my honeyed tea with lemon.
-This lady actually called me a princess. She did! And she lives in my building! Well, what really happened was that I knelt on the floor to open up my mailbox in my building and I was wearing this pink flowy skirt. So this woman says, "Hey, I really love how you look in that skirt kneeling on the floor- you look like a princess!"
-I saw this man on the subway today who was just awesome. Basically, it was incredibly stifling on one of the cars on the 1 train because the air-conditioning had broken down. So this guy (who incidentally was wearing a t-shirt that read 'What I really need are minions') was talking to the lady in the elevator about that and said, "I was sweating through my man-boobs!" And goes, "I believe in calling them what they are- and besides, I got a chuckle out of you and laughter is what the world is all about." And basically he was a really nice guy in New York and funny and just had a really positive attitude toward everything. And I wish he was my friend.
-And I would just like to say: I really need minions.
Peace out, world; we're going to paint rainbows on The Truman Story's set's ceiling tomorrow.
Love At First Site
Turning the clock back a couple of weeks, let me tell you what I saw when I first arrived at work.
In the cubicle adjacent to mine, a man was surrounded by lots of little colorful scraps of paper. Scraps of paper which, upon further perusal, turned out to be minute Facebook images that had been scaled down, painstakingly cut out, then organized upon the rather ugly green carpet. He had a camera with him and was snapping lots of pictures of the forlorn, shipwrecked Facebook images.
"Wow," I marveled to myself. "He has an insane amount of patience. If I had to sit in a cubicle, cut out snippets of paper, pin them to the wall or tape them to the ground and then arrange them and rearrange them in various patterns, I think I would go mad. It seems like a particularly refined form of torture."
At some point, since he's friendly, the man introduced himself as Chaim Gross. I told him my name was Olivia and asked him what in the world he was doing.
"It's called stop-motion photography," he explained. Basically, the way that it works is that he takes something like 15 still frames per second, makes very slight changes between shots, puts them together and makes it seem as though the pictures are animated. I was skeptical until he pulled up some YouTube examples and showed me how cool the finished product could look.
With that in mind, all you Facebook and NCSY lovers should watch "Love At First Site." Premiering for the first time ever...right here. Alternatively, like the NCSY page on Facebook and watch it there.
In the cubicle adjacent to mine, a man was surrounded by lots of little colorful scraps of paper. Scraps of paper which, upon further perusal, turned out to be minute Facebook images that had been scaled down, painstakingly cut out, then organized upon the rather ugly green carpet. He had a camera with him and was snapping lots of pictures of the forlorn, shipwrecked Facebook images.
"Wow," I marveled to myself. "He has an insane amount of patience. If I had to sit in a cubicle, cut out snippets of paper, pin them to the wall or tape them to the ground and then arrange them and rearrange them in various patterns, I think I would go mad. It seems like a particularly refined form of torture."
At some point, since he's friendly, the man introduced himself as Chaim Gross. I told him my name was Olivia and asked him what in the world he was doing.
"It's called stop-motion photography," he explained. Basically, the way that it works is that he takes something like 15 still frames per second, makes very slight changes between shots, puts them together and makes it seem as though the pictures are animated. I was skeptical until he pulled up some YouTube examples and showed me how cool the finished product could look.
With that in mind, all you Facebook and NCSY lovers should watch "Love At First Site." Premiering for the first time ever...right here. Alternatively, like the NCSY page on Facebook and watch it there.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
BHJCC: The Bachelor, Greg, Dodgeballs & Chaia Being Fabulously Insane
So you're not going to understand this unless you've worked at the Bernard Horwich JCC, but for those of you who have...it's time to party.
Tolstoy Writes About Shidduchim
The following is an excerpt from Tolstoy's The Kreutzer Sonata, a book he wrote after he had his religious experience and decided that sex was awful and everyone should be virgins.
Leaving that aside, his depiction of the world in which women lived then is pretty accurate as far as the shidduch system goes.
~
Chapter VIII
"Well, so my rank, my fortune, my good clothes, the excursions in boats did the job. Twenty times it did not succeed, but this time it succeeded like a trap. I am not jesting. You see, nowadays marriages are always arranged- like traps. Do you see how natural it is? The girl has arrived at maturity and must be married. What could be simpler when the girl is not a monster and there are men who wish to get married? That is the way it used to be done. The girl reaches the right age; her parents arrange a marriage/ So it has been done, throughout the world, among the Chinese, the Hindus, the Mohammedans, among the common Russian people- among at least ninety-nine per cent of the human race. It is only among a small one per cent, among us libertines and debauchees, that this custom has been found to be bad, and so we have invented another. Now, what is this new way? It is this: the girls sit round and the men come, as at a bazaar, to take their choice. And the girls wait and wonder and have their own ideas, but they dare not say, "Dear sir, take me!" or "No, me!" or, "Not her, but me!" or, "Look at my shoulders and all the rest!"
"And we, the men, all walk around and look them over and are quite smug. 'I know a thing or two; I won't be caught.' They go around, they look, they are satisfied that this is all arranged for their specia pleasure. 'Look, but don't get taken in!' "
"What is to be done then?" I asked. "You would not expect the young women to make the offers, would you?"
"Well, I can't say exactly how; but if there is to be equality, then let it be equality. If the system of the matchmaker is considered humiliating, this is a thousand times more so! In the first case the rights and chances were equal, but in our method the woman is either a slave in a bazaar or the bait in the trap. Tell any mother or the girl herself the truth, that she is only occupied in husband-catching - my God, what an insult! But that is the truth and they have nothing else to do. And what is really dreadful is to see poor innocent young girls involved in all this. It wouldn't be so bad if it were done openly, but it is all deception. "Ah, the origin of species, how interesting!' 'Lily is greatly interested in painting.' 'And will you be at the exhibition? How instructive!' And the carriage rides and the theater and the symphony. 'Oh, how remarkable!' 'My Lily is crazy about music!' 'And why don't you share these views?' And the boat rides. And always one thought: "Take me!" "Take my Lily!" "No, me!" "Just try your luck!" Oh, what vileness and falsehood!' he exclaimed, and swallowing the last of his tea, proceeded to put away his utensils.
-pages 20-21
Leaving that aside, his depiction of the world in which women lived then is pretty accurate as far as the shidduch system goes.
~
Chapter VIII
"Well, so my rank, my fortune, my good clothes, the excursions in boats did the job. Twenty times it did not succeed, but this time it succeeded like a trap. I am not jesting. You see, nowadays marriages are always arranged- like traps. Do you see how natural it is? The girl has arrived at maturity and must be married. What could be simpler when the girl is not a monster and there are men who wish to get married? That is the way it used to be done. The girl reaches the right age; her parents arrange a marriage/ So it has been done, throughout the world, among the Chinese, the Hindus, the Mohammedans, among the common Russian people- among at least ninety-nine per cent of the human race. It is only among a small one per cent, among us libertines and debauchees, that this custom has been found to be bad, and so we have invented another. Now, what is this new way? It is this: the girls sit round and the men come, as at a bazaar, to take their choice. And the girls wait and wonder and have their own ideas, but they dare not say, "Dear sir, take me!" or "No, me!" or, "Not her, but me!" or, "Look at my shoulders and all the rest!"
"And we, the men, all walk around and look them over and are quite smug. 'I know a thing or two; I won't be caught.' They go around, they look, they are satisfied that this is all arranged for their specia pleasure. 'Look, but don't get taken in!' "
"What is to be done then?" I asked. "You would not expect the young women to make the offers, would you?"
"Well, I can't say exactly how; but if there is to be equality, then let it be equality. If the system of the matchmaker is considered humiliating, this is a thousand times more so! In the first case the rights and chances were equal, but in our method the woman is either a slave in a bazaar or the bait in the trap. Tell any mother or the girl herself the truth, that she is only occupied in husband-catching - my God, what an insult! But that is the truth and they have nothing else to do. And what is really dreadful is to see poor innocent young girls involved in all this. It wouldn't be so bad if it were done openly, but it is all deception. "Ah, the origin of species, how interesting!' 'Lily is greatly interested in painting.' 'And will you be at the exhibition? How instructive!' And the carriage rides and the theater and the symphony. 'Oh, how remarkable!' 'My Lily is crazy about music!' 'And why don't you share these views?' And the boat rides. And always one thought: "Take me!" "Take my Lily!" "No, me!" "Just try your luck!" Oh, what vileness and falsehood!' he exclaimed, and swallowing the last of his tea, proceeded to put away his utensils.
-pages 20-21
Your Magic Has Been Sent
I was sending a Gmail Message today and instead of reading "Your message has been sent" after pressing "Send," I read "Your magic has been sent."
And then it occurred to me- how beautiful- I like that.
My magic has been sent. ;)
And then it occurred to me- how beautiful- I like that.
My magic has been sent. ;)
Friday, August 13, 2010
He Took My Heart
One of my best friends wrote an exquisite piece entitled "He took my heart and in its place he put a stone" that everyone, everyone should read. No matter who you are, if you've ever wanted not to have to feel, if you've ever felt shattered, if you've ever met the cold people whose blood used to burn with fire, then you'll want to read this.
The Yeshiva-Queens Question
Enrollment at Yeshiva University is down.
This is not surprising, given the following numbers. A male student can choose between attending Yeshiva College and paying tuition of $44,915 dollars per year (I added all the costs under the Full Time Students slot) or attending Queens College for about $4,838.25 dollars (I added the cost of two semesters for students who live in New York plus the Activity Fee.) It's true that YU gives generous scholarships (generally anywhere from $2000-full tuition), but even so, it can't compare to the cost of Queens.
You caution me, however, what about the ability to spend part of one's day learning in yeshiva with Rabbanim? What about the shiurim and programs YU offers? Can a Queens College student get that?
The answer is yes. There are a lot of Queens College attendees who learn at YBT or other Five Towns yeshivot and in this way balance their Judaic and secular commitments in the same way that YU students do. There's a large Jewish community and plenty of kosher restaraunts in Queens. In short, what's not to like?
So let me ask you, in your opinion, what's the draw of a Yeshiva University education over a Queens College+ Yeshiva Of Your Choice (YOYC) education? How is YU to continue attracting students? And if you are a college-aged student, or the parent of one, where would you send your child?
This is not surprising, given the following numbers. A male student can choose between attending Yeshiva College and paying tuition of $44,915 dollars per year (I added all the costs under the Full Time Students slot) or attending Queens College for about $4,838.25 dollars (I added the cost of two semesters for students who live in New York plus the Activity Fee.) It's true that YU gives generous scholarships (generally anywhere from $2000-full tuition), but even so, it can't compare to the cost of Queens.
You caution me, however, what about the ability to spend part of one's day learning in yeshiva with Rabbanim? What about the shiurim and programs YU offers? Can a Queens College student get that?
The answer is yes. There are a lot of Queens College attendees who learn at YBT or other Five Towns yeshivot and in this way balance their Judaic and secular commitments in the same way that YU students do. There's a large Jewish community and plenty of kosher restaraunts in Queens. In short, what's not to like?
So let me ask you, in your opinion, what's the draw of a Yeshiva University education over a Queens College+ Yeshiva Of Your Choice (YOYC) education? How is YU to continue attracting students? And if you are a college-aged student, or the parent of one, where would you send your child?
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Tales of an Entertained Bride
So folks, I'm a bride! Yes, a bride, a maiden soon to be wed, which is variously exciting and fascinating and peculiar. I have discovered wonderful artifacts of clothing that are sold specifically for brides and find myself wishing I could own them. I have talked to pretty salesladies of every age and ethnicity, conferred about shoes and pranced about endlessly. That's the way my cookie crumbles, after all!
Some intriguing observations:
Invariably, every single bridal store I enter informs me that I am the rare exception to the rule because I am happy. Yes, happy to be wed to my soon-to-be husband. It seems their normal clientele is stressed to the point that they forget this is a joyous occasion. I refuse to be stressed to that point by simply ignoring whatever needs to be done. An amusing, if flawed strategy.
I have been offered every method known to man to slim down before my wedding. Facebook tells me about diets and women in stores try to sell me all sorts of contraptions. Does it occur to no one that if the man asked to marry me knowing my size and weight he hardly wishes me to go on some sort of crash diet for his sake? He did use his eyes, now did he not?
In any case, my particular life is such that I chose my bridal gown and selected our lodgings exactly two days prior to my flying out to camp. It was complicated to attempt to offer my say on wedding decisions whilst being forbidden to use a cell phone openly, but I managed it. (Doubtless my years of Bais Yaakov training, with cell phones hidden in bathrooms, aided me.)
In terms of what I do with my everyday life, let us just say that in large part it is completely unconnected to my status as bride, and it makes me laugh when people assume that brides are incapable of using brain space for any other projects during their career as Lady in White. Speaking of which, I finished reading The Woman in White and enjoyed it very much. I'm on a bit of a classics kick; anyone have some new ones to recommend? (Beware, I've read most of them.)
At some point I should detail for you the extremely unique dates that Heshy and I have embarked upon. They range from attending shechitas to wandering through Pomegranate in Brooklyn (it was an exploratory date, and as there were no rain forests, this was considered a good second choice), hanging out with homeless people on the subway, arguing about "Inception," getting arrested (or rather, summoned to criminal court) in Central Park, taking standardized tests and all manner of fun peculiarities that confuse others and delight us.
In any case, onward bound to argue with credit card companies and claim that yes, I do exist, and yes, this is in fact my address.
Have a blessed day, as Jay the Subway Preacher would say.
Some intriguing observations:
Invariably, every single bridal store I enter informs me that I am the rare exception to the rule because I am happy. Yes, happy to be wed to my soon-to-be husband. It seems their normal clientele is stressed to the point that they forget this is a joyous occasion. I refuse to be stressed to that point by simply ignoring whatever needs to be done. An amusing, if flawed strategy.
I have been offered every method known to man to slim down before my wedding. Facebook tells me about diets and women in stores try to sell me all sorts of contraptions. Does it occur to no one that if the man asked to marry me knowing my size and weight he hardly wishes me to go on some sort of crash diet for his sake? He did use his eyes, now did he not?
In any case, my particular life is such that I chose my bridal gown and selected our lodgings exactly two days prior to my flying out to camp. It was complicated to attempt to offer my say on wedding decisions whilst being forbidden to use a cell phone openly, but I managed it. (Doubtless my years of Bais Yaakov training, with cell phones hidden in bathrooms, aided me.)
In terms of what I do with my everyday life, let us just say that in large part it is completely unconnected to my status as bride, and it makes me laugh when people assume that brides are incapable of using brain space for any other projects during their career as Lady in White. Speaking of which, I finished reading The Woman in White and enjoyed it very much. I'm on a bit of a classics kick; anyone have some new ones to recommend? (Beware, I've read most of them.)
At some point I should detail for you the extremely unique dates that Heshy and I have embarked upon. They range from attending shechitas to wandering through Pomegranate in Brooklyn (it was an exploratory date, and as there were no rain forests, this was considered a good second choice), hanging out with homeless people on the subway, arguing about "Inception," getting arrested (or rather, summoned to criminal court) in Central Park, taking standardized tests and all manner of fun peculiarities that confuse others and delight us.
In any case, onward bound to argue with credit card companies and claim that yes, I do exist, and yes, this is in fact my address.
Have a blessed day, as Jay the Subway Preacher would say.
Monday, August 09, 2010
Sunday, August 08, 2010
Drug & Alcohol Abuse in the Orthodox Jewish Community
Less than a month ago, I opened up my email to find an extremely powerful essay authored by Rabbi Dr. Gershon and Kirbie Pincus, Rabbi Dr. Elie and Aliza Feder, Noah and Nava Pincus Greenfield, and Chaviva Pincus about the life and loss of their beloved son and brother, Avi Pincus. This essay has been published online by the Orthodox Union under the title "Dying to Recover: The Life and Loss of Avi Pincus." He died of a drug overdose. Unlike others, who desire to cover up this information, the Pincuses and Greenfields wanted to share their story in the hope of helping others "to be more caring of others, more sensitive to the pain around us, and more appreciative of the difficult circumstances in which so many find themselves."
I was impressed to discover that this issue had formerly been addressed in Issue 278 of Mishpacha Magazine, the Mega Succos Edition, published on September 30, 2009. The article there was entitled "Drinking From the Cup of Bitterness: A Family Cherishes the Legacy of a Beloved Son" and was written by Malki Lowinger. Yehuda Mond z"l passed away at the age of 19 from a drug and alcohol overdose.
The Mond family decided to take their tragedy and turn it into a powerful effort to raise awareness of the dangers of drug and alcohol abuse within our world. They started a foundation, the website of which is YehudaMondFoundation.org. What is more, they created a DVD which includes personal testimonials, endorsement of rabbis such as R' Twerski, a dramatization telling the everyday story of yeshiva bochurim and alcohol along with the Mond family speaking directly into the camera and speaking very movingly about their son. You can watch the DVD here or below:
I was impressed to discover that this issue had formerly been addressed in Issue 278 of Mishpacha Magazine, the Mega Succos Edition, published on September 30, 2009. The article there was entitled "Drinking From the Cup of Bitterness: A Family Cherishes the Legacy of a Beloved Son" and was written by Malki Lowinger. Yehuda Mond z"l passed away at the age of 19 from a drug and alcohol overdose.
The Mond family decided to take their tragedy and turn it into a powerful effort to raise awareness of the dangers of drug and alcohol abuse within our world. They started a foundation, the website of which is YehudaMondFoundation.org. What is more, they created a DVD which includes personal testimonials, endorsement of rabbis such as R' Twerski, a dramatization telling the everyday story of yeshiva bochurim and alcohol along with the Mond family speaking directly into the camera and speaking very movingly about their son. You can watch the DVD here or below:
The dangers and pitfalls of alcohol from Yehuda Mond Foundation on Vimeo.
I think it's fantastic this issue is being discussed in the Orthodox world, and I'm glad people are taking measures to spread awareness and combat the cavalier, dapper, unconcerned attitude many people feel on both sides of the spectrum.Saturday, August 07, 2010
The Elegance of Understated Cinematography
Something which truly impresses me about Swedish filmography- or perhaps it's only that of directors Niels Arden Oplev and Daniel Alfredson, as I'm not that familiar with Swedish films in general- is the understated simplicity and elegance with which it tells its story. The film versions of "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" and "The Girl Who Played With Fire" are simply exquisite because they do not fall prey to the maudlin sentimentality and looming soundtracks that often characterize Hollywood blockbusters. Salander is not sexed-up; her awkwardness, innocence and frightening violence are all represented matter of factly. This fact struck me most when watching the torture scene in "The Girl Who Played With Fire." It is not night outside. It is not thunderstorming. There is no sense of classic horror to the scene. The scene is kept the same as it was in the book; Salander is simply a girl going about her business, acquiring the information she is looking for. It is the fact that there is no clashing crescendo of trumpets or instruments, that her predicament is not weirdly exaggerated but is presented as a simple truth, that affects us so powerfully. We relate to Salander because our emotions have not been manipulated at all. The film tells a story but it doesn't tell us how to feel about it. While in Hollywood, Berger's open marriage and her affair with Blomkvist would have been played up big time, it's hardly mentioned in the Swedish film at all. And Lisbeth's violence is not glamourized- it's not action-popping glorious and therefore unbelievable- but is factual.
Here's the torture scene I am referring to:
See how factual, clean and clear that scene is? Notice the sunlight, the lack of terrifying music, and the simplicity with which Salander goes about her task. That elegant and horrifying truth gets to us because it is presented so honestly, without any glamour or any dressing it up.
Compare to the scene where we see another painted face talking- compare to Hollywood.
There's good reason that The Joker is a comic book character whereas Lisbeth Salander can be seen as a real human being. Notice that the Joker needs to be in a background suitable to his violence- in a bare prison cell, with harsh fluorescent lights upon him, and eerie music building up to a feverish pitch- in order for us to take the scene seriously. Not so with Salander.
Here's an excellent example of where America gets it terribly wrong:
This film should have been the story of the horrors of physical abuse. It should have been simple, understated, elegant, featuring Rihanna and Eminem with Rihanna as the abused victim and Eminem as the abuser. Instead, we get pretty people trying to act out some sort of love story- Megan Fox and Dominic Fee- which is patently absurd and not even remotely true to how domestic violence actually plays out. We get Rihanna in reddish-pink hair and pink claws baring a lot of skin outside the artfully designed burning house. We get Eminem in some random field in the middle of nowhere. And what they've done by presenting this travesty, this utter mockery of a music video, is killed the power of the song. They've alienated the listeners. The reason we were interested in "Love The Way You Lie" was because we felt that the people who were singing it really knew what they were talking about. Anyone who has listened to Eminem's "Kim" knows that he has the vicious feelings of a potential abuser. And we all know about Chris Brown and Rihanna. It should have been them acting out this video- and acting it out in a way that left us sickened, disgusted and horrified by the trauma and pain of domestic abuse. It should have had the understated elegance of the scenes in Daniel Alfredson's movies, not the blowsy color of a whore decked out in cheap polyester, rayon and a thick layer of clown makeup.
Alas, here in America, we've been given this arty, pathetically inaccurate portrayal which makes domestic abuse look kind of sexy- and which makes houses burning down kind of cool.
Way to go, Joseph Kahn. Great job directing a film that's going to make every girl in America wish she were abused- as long as it's the abs-baring Dominic Fee who wanders around punching the odd mirror and mournfully consoling her with rose-bearing teddy-bears.
It's about as tasteful as pretending rape is fun.
Here's the torture scene I am referring to:
See how factual, clean and clear that scene is? Notice the sunlight, the lack of terrifying music, and the simplicity with which Salander goes about her task. That elegant and horrifying truth gets to us because it is presented so honestly, without any glamour or any dressing it up.
Compare to the scene where we see another painted face talking- compare to Hollywood.
There's good reason that The Joker is a comic book character whereas Lisbeth Salander can be seen as a real human being. Notice that the Joker needs to be in a background suitable to his violence- in a bare prison cell, with harsh fluorescent lights upon him, and eerie music building up to a feverish pitch- in order for us to take the scene seriously. Not so with Salander.
Here's an excellent example of where America gets it terribly wrong:
This film should have been the story of the horrors of physical abuse. It should have been simple, understated, elegant, featuring Rihanna and Eminem with Rihanna as the abused victim and Eminem as the abuser. Instead, we get pretty people trying to act out some sort of love story- Megan Fox and Dominic Fee- which is patently absurd and not even remotely true to how domestic violence actually plays out. We get Rihanna in reddish-pink hair and pink claws baring a lot of skin outside the artfully designed burning house. We get Eminem in some random field in the middle of nowhere. And what they've done by presenting this travesty, this utter mockery of a music video, is killed the power of the song. They've alienated the listeners. The reason we were interested in "Love The Way You Lie" was because we felt that the people who were singing it really knew what they were talking about. Anyone who has listened to Eminem's "Kim" knows that he has the vicious feelings of a potential abuser. And we all know about Chris Brown and Rihanna. It should have been them acting out this video- and acting it out in a way that left us sickened, disgusted and horrified by the trauma and pain of domestic abuse. It should have had the understated elegance of the scenes in Daniel Alfredson's movies, not the blowsy color of a whore decked out in cheap polyester, rayon and a thick layer of clown makeup.
Alas, here in America, we've been given this arty, pathetically inaccurate portrayal which makes domestic abuse look kind of sexy- and which makes houses burning down kind of cool.
Way to go, Joseph Kahn. Great job directing a film that's going to make every girl in America wish she were abused- as long as it's the abs-baring Dominic Fee who wanders around punching the odd mirror and mournfully consoling her with rose-bearing teddy-bears.
It's about as tasteful as pretending rape is fun.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
Invincible Innocence: The Haredi World as Wharton's New York
I recently reread Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence. It struck me that the book is an excellent metaphor for the Haredi world as a whole. While the work actually speaks of the elite crust of society in New York during the 1870s, it seems that much is the same in the Haredi enclaves that exist today.
Those families that boast yichus (pedigree), wealth and have Rebbes in their lines can be equated with the upper echelon of society.
Those families where the parents work or the children are 'working boys' rather than those who choose to spend their days in Kollel are considered lower class.
And those who are in-between (not blessed with an excellent pedigree or wealth but striving to be accepted by that upper class) are the middle class.
As to the women, they are as sheltered as ever they were in 1870.
The Age of Innocence stars Newland Archer, a wealthy young man who is engaged to the pretty maiden May who is related to the unusual Countess Olenska, a woman who dared to flee from her colorful husband. Archer is dissatisfied with his world and his life and feels a vague, directionless ache and desire to search for an alternative. The Countess unknowingly provides that alternative since she does not conform to society's mores until she is taken in by Newland's noble talk of living for society's mandates and values, preaching such virtues as selflessness, honor and nobility. In this case, the selflessness takes the form of not breaking the engagement with May even though he is hopelessly in love with the Countess and she with him. The Countess, in turn, does not divorce her husband due to the scandal it would cause and the shame that would be cast upon her family, to whom Archer will soon be related. Their high-minded consideration of others ends in tragedy; the two of them are made to part by a civilized dinner that ushers the Countess away.
There are several scenes in the work where Archer's perception accords entirely with the state in which Haredi women commonly find themselves. Here's one such excerpt:
The innocence which Archer hopes his wife May will not possess is exactly that innocence which is so carefully cultivated by insular communities:
The stigma of divorce and the shame the entire family faces is also paralleled in the Haredi world, where children whose parents are divorced are considered to come from 'a broken home' and their shidduchim are therefore affected negatively.
There is much more within the book that accords with that world but it is not polite to note it. What I enjoyed was realizing once more that literature never ages.
Those families that boast yichus (pedigree), wealth and have Rebbes in their lines can be equated with the upper echelon of society.
Those families where the parents work or the children are 'working boys' rather than those who choose to spend their days in Kollel are considered lower class.
And those who are in-between (not blessed with an excellent pedigree or wealth but striving to be accepted by that upper class) are the middle class.
As to the women, they are as sheltered as ever they were in 1870.
The Age of Innocence stars Newland Archer, a wealthy young man who is engaged to the pretty maiden May who is related to the unusual Countess Olenska, a woman who dared to flee from her colorful husband. Archer is dissatisfied with his world and his life and feels a vague, directionless ache and desire to search for an alternative. The Countess unknowingly provides that alternative since she does not conform to society's mores until she is taken in by Newland's noble talk of living for society's mandates and values, preaching such virtues as selflessness, honor and nobility. In this case, the selflessness takes the form of not breaking the engagement with May even though he is hopelessly in love with the Countess and she with him. The Countess, in turn, does not divorce her husband due to the scandal it would cause and the shame that would be cast upon her family, to whom Archer will soon be related. Their high-minded consideration of others ends in tragedy; the two of them are made to part by a civilized dinner that ushers the Countess away.
There are several scenes in the work where Archer's perception accords entirely with the state in which Haredi women commonly find themselves. Here's one such excerpt:
- Archer had reverted to all his old inherited ideas about marriage. It was less trouble to conform with the tradition and treat May exactly as all his friends treated their wives than to try to put into practice the theories with which his untrammelled bachelorhood had dallied. There was no use in trying to emancipate a wife who had not the dimmest notion that she was not free; and he had long since discovered that May's only use of the liberty she supposed herself to possess would be to lay it on the altar of her wifely adoration.
The innocence which Archer hopes his wife May will not possess is exactly that innocence which is so carefully cultivated by insular communities:
- "Poor Ellen--she was always a wayward child. I wonder what her fate will be?"
"What we've all contrived to make it," he felt like answering. "If you'd all of you rather she should be Beaufort's mistress than some decent fellow's wife you've certainly gone the right way about it."
He wondered what Mrs. Welland would have said if he had uttered the words instead of merely thinking them. He could picture the sudden decomposure of her firm placid features, to which a lifelong mastery over trifles had given an air of factitious authority. Traces still lingered on them of a fresh beauty like her daughter's; and he asked himself if May's face was doomed to thicken into the same middle-aged image of invincible innocence.
Ah, no, he did not want May to have that kind of innocence, the innocence that seals the mind against imagination and the heart against experience!
The stigma of divorce and the shame the entire family faces is also paralleled in the Haredi world, where children whose parents are divorced are considered to come from 'a broken home' and their shidduchim are therefore affected negatively.
There is much more within the book that accords with that world but it is not polite to note it. What I enjoyed was realizing once more that literature never ages.
The Ladies' Auxiliary
The Ladies' Auxiliary is like Stargirl for Jews. Worth reading, vividly written and certain to make the outcast Jew feel at home.
Batsheva is a convert who joins the Memphis Orthodox Jewish community. Her emotionally heartfelt service of God is pure and honest, but the community prefers rigid strictures over true connection. In a clash of small-town scruples and a desire to uphold the way things were, tradition wins over innovation, exacting an iron price. But in Batsheva we find a heroine- someone pure and free, willing to look at the world and still open her eyes with wonder upon discovering its beauty.
Your Most Difficult Moment
What was the hardest thing you ever did in your life?
When I ask this I refer to the emotional side of the spectrum, not physical labor. What was the most difficult emotional experience you ever voluntarily (or involuntarily) chose to experience and why did you choose it? What made you do this very difficult thing?
When I ask this I refer to the emotional side of the spectrum, not physical labor. What was the most difficult emotional experience you ever voluntarily (or involuntarily) chose to experience and why did you choose it? What made you do this very difficult thing?
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