First the liberal movements discovered the mikveh. Now the Reform movement is thinking of implementing its own version of yet another politically incorrect Orthodox practice.
The recent biennial convention of the Union for Reform Judaism offered a men-only prayer service.
The rationale:
Israeli blogger Trilcat is suffering from constant, severe, headaches. Her doctors haven’t been able to help, and she could use some support.
A friend of mine attended an odd wedding and shared some pictures of the new fa
shions. The one on the left is wearing three head coverings: one under her chin, one covering her forehead, and one going all the way down her back. This is in addition to a full-length cloak.
The woman on the right is also wearing a cloak.
It’s standard in some circles for brides to wear completely opaque veils. Usually the mother helps guide her, but at this chupah the bride’s mother wore a decorated “box” over her entire head. Faces were uncovered during the dancing, but sexes are strictly divided by that point.
A post by Jameel, based on an article in Haaretz, sheds light–or more accurately darkness–on this phenomenon.
According to the Haaretz article, a woman called Rabbanit (rebbetzin, wife of the rabbi) Keren is behind this approach. She has ten children and leaves the house as infrequently as possible. She also maintains a “taanit dibur,” a speech fast, except for four hours a week when she gives classes and treats women as an alternative therapist. I don’t know how she manages not to speak with her husband and children. She wears ten layers of clothing (one for each child?) and advises women to switch the heels of their shoes so that they won’t click. Makeup and perfume are also taboo.
Toward the end of the Haaretz article, the author quotes a professor who suggests that this extreme modesty is similar to anorexia. I agree; it’s obsessive behavior based on a desire to deny one’s femininity. Or maybe I’m being judgmental?
When rabbis in certain circles emphasize women’s modesty above all other virtues, it’s no wonder that some will take things to the extreme.
Rafi helped me out by blurring the faces (as requested by my friend) on this additional picture, where you can see the bride:
Update: In a Hebrew article from Maariv, Neshot Hare’alah (Women of the Veil), Sherry Makover-Balikov interviews Rabbanit Bruria Keren and some of her followers.
English summary/translation: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII,
Entire series
I’ve been reading Daniel Mendelsohn’s book, The Lost: A Search for Six of Six Million.
Mendelsohn grew up in an assimilated family in New York. In the background of his visits to his older relatives in Florida lay a story about a great-uncle who remained in the family’s ancestral town of Bolechow, Ukraine, only to be murdered during the Holocaust along with his wife and four daughters. The writer’s grandfather and the other siblings had already emigrated to Israel and the US.
If my mother hated cleaning, she never admitted it to me. But she didn’t research or think much about cleaning techniques, like she did with other aspects of homemaking.
She was fussy about guests, who were never allowed in the kitchen; she had me for serving and clearing. I didn’t mind much, except when I didn’t get soup because it had boiled away–sometimes she calculated too carefully. She kept the living and dining rooms, along with the front entrance, exclusively for company (a luxury most of us Israelis can only dream of). The family used the side door; she often complained about their previous house, where you had to bring groceries in through the living room.
My own friends were welcome in the house and ate in the “breakfast room” off the kitchen, with the family.
By the time I was born she could have afforded hired help, and did occasionally, but she was too private a person to feel comfortable with someone else working in the house.
I wonder how much of an issue housekeeping was for her. Was the house really dirty, even before my mother developed a chronic illness when I was twelve? Was she ashamed of the house’s condition? If so, I wasn’t conscious of a problem and chalked up her foibles to anxiety regarding guests. Maybe there is a lesson here: If your own house isn’t so clean, chances are your kids don’t care and won’t remember.
We take a break for a rare political post. (Update: Link now included.)
Update: Israel Satire Laboratory’s take on it–it’s almost too easy.
The Israeli Sociology Association awarded the report a mark of excellence.
Here’s a quote from the study:
Read more on The real reason Israeli soldiers don’t rape Palestinian women…
I’ve lived here seventeen years, but some situations still make me feel like I just stepped off the plane.
Commenter Regular Anonymous asked me to post about dealing with difficult school personnel. I am not the person to ask, because I have problems dealing even with non-difficult school personnel. It’s a combination of the language (even though I have fluent Hebrew), the culture, and the fact that I am a nice, quiet American. I can overcome the feeling of intimidation in short bursts, but then I retreat. This causes me no end of difficulty, and not just with schools.
I have a friend whose son’s teacher was picking on him. They couldn’t accuse the teacher because that would make the situation worse. So they asked an Israeli what to do (you’ve noticed that native Israelis are experts at getting things to happen in schools). He told them to tell the teacher the following: “We are concerned about our son. He is convinced that you are picking on him, but we are sure that can’t possibly be true.” It worked like a charm.
If you don’t have anyone to advise you, or the problem is complex, consider hiring someone to serve as your advocate and mediate between you and the school. There are social workers and psychologists who will work with the school to solve a child’s problem. Sometimes switching schools is the best solution, especially in a private school that may not have interest in, or resources for, expending extra effort.
A big mazal tov to Safranit, who finally had her baby weighing in at a hefty 3.86kg. No other news as yet.
I received the first set of eight tasks, which consisted of questions to answer and return. They asked for more personal information than I felt comfortable sharing with someone I don’t know. (Odd thing for a blogger to say, right?) Withholding information does not seem right, either, in the context of this game.
So I guess I am not ready to play the 8 Game.
And I will have to find other things to blog about.
Elisha Cooper (no, he’s not Jewish) is an artist and children’s author living with his wife Elise in
We have all the usual milestones: The initial shock of being solely responsible for another human being, the first time alone with a baby who won’t take a bottle, the first trip to the emergency room. But he moves from humorously casting himself as a clueless father to examining his ever-changing emotions. He admits how inadequate he feels next to his wife who seems to know instinctively how to calm and care for the baby. He describes his jealousy of Zoë’s and Elise’s intense feelings for each other.
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