We were invited to be guests in someone else’s home this past Shabbat. That’s right, 8 out of the 9 of us picked up and moved in with another family for Shabbat. This very brave, gracious family has twelve – yes twelve – children. Don’t worry; only ten of them were home.
We don’t go away very often, especially for Shabbat. We rarely go out for Shabbat meals locally in our own community. It is truly a lot of work, and usually easier to stay home. Not only is it invariably someone’s bed or nap time during a meal, but my picky eaters will usually come home from a meal telling me they are starving, so I have to make food anyway.
This last week was an intense work week for me, and my thinking was that with 10 children home (ages 22-3) there would be mess, chaos, noise and lots of food without my having to worry that it was all caused by my family. I also brought sleeping bags and pillows for my kids. The thought of anyone having to do double the amount of laundry I do just makes me woozy.
We had a fabulous, fabulous time. Two things struck me: 1. There was far more unanimous happiness and joy than there ever is at any “family outing”, which usually take more money and a lot more effort. 2. Being a host is good for a person, but so is being a guest.
We spent our Shabbat away in Lakewood, NJ, a black hat (or haredi) community, if not THE haredi community in the US. (Forgive me, Monsey). The community as a whole observes Judaism in a lot of subtle little ways that are sharply different from our family.
One great thing about coming outside of our home, our neighborhood, our comfort zone, was to have a different role. In this case, mine was blissfully passive! Another was to get a new perspective. We didn’t just glimpse a different Judaism, we discussed it. We asked, we compared. We got a taste of something else.
When I was younger and single I encountered so many different Jews with different views on Torah and halacha. I saw and experienced such a wonderful range of minhagim (family traditions) and opinions. Then I settled down, had a family, and wanted to build a wonderful consistency for them. The break from that consistency was wonderful, and allowed us to understand a piece of Klal Yisrael just a little better.
Another wonderful thing about being a guest is seeing different styles in parenting. It is obviously clearer during a 26 hour visit than a two hour one. It is wonderful to digest what one can learn from others and to break the routine to the point where things aren’t happening by rote so that maybe you can “see” them.
There are some who claim that communities like Lakewood are insular, judgmental, close-minded, etc. Perhaps I am not looking for such negativity so I am not finding it. But I must say that the warmth and kindness from everyone I met was just amazing. It is obvious to anyone there that I am an outsider who does things differently. I was greeted much more warmly than I have been in some other places. (As I always have been whenever in Lakewood.) By being there, I could ask questions, as so many people ask me, about why things are done the way they are. And as with so many other things in the Torah, the answers are often simple and beautiful, just with a perspective I didn’t previously have.
The informal and extensive hospitality is one of the many things I miss about Israel. I was recently told that travelling to another’s home routinely means bringing one’s own linens. I bet that helps a lot.
I also enjoy being a host(ess) for many of the same reasons. I love hearing a different person’s story, their point of view, their Jewish journey. (I think this particular part I owe to many meals at Alan and Bonnie Cohen’s home opposite the Old City of Jerusalem. One of the many things I owe them…) I like the new “flavors” that different people bring to our meals. It isn’t always easy to be the host, especially if you feel compelled to make a certain kind of impression. (Of course I have never felt that way.) It is often easier to keep things routine, just family; simple. I have never been known for preferring easier for its own sake.
It isn’t always easy to invite a whole family into your home, especially overnight. Nor is it ever easy, I think, to travel somewhere with six of your own. But the experience was so very worth it, and I feel invigorated not only by the rest of letting someone else “make shabbos”, but by the fresh perspective and the watching and listening.
….. I will just have to hope that someone else, at some point in time, is crazy enough to once again invite all of us to be guests.
It says in Pirkei Avot that one should make for yourself a Rabbi. There are slightly different variations on how this is understood. However, there is consensus that a person can spend time with and learn from as many rabbis as they like, but should have A rabbi that gives them halachic rulings and advice. We are not supposed to shop around for opinions on each matter until we get the one we like. Or go to our “makel rav” (lenient rabbi) when we want a lenient answer and our “mahmir rav” (strict rabbi) when we don’t.
I am frequently amazed at how many frum Jews I meet who tell me that they don’t have a rabbi. They may live near a rabbi, or know several, but they don’t have one Rabbi that they trust completely, see eye to eye with on Torah, and not only are prepared to live by what he says, but feel elevated and stronger as a Jew through their psak (rulings.)
The common response I hear is that “I don’t know someone like that” or “I can’t find one” or “I like the Rabbi in my town/city/shul/yishuv I just don’t feel that we are 100% on the same page but it’s what I’ve got.”
This is so very sad to me. I wonder why the Rabbinic leadership doesn’t encourage people to seek this out, especially in our digital day. The Rabbi of our community is my friend, teacher, role model. He is an amazing person from whom I learn all of the time. But my posek, my Rav is many many miles away, and most of my communication with him is “cyber-psak”.
We have the most wonderful Rav. I met him through my husband. I often feel through my questions and conversations with him closer to Torah, closer to Hashem. I just believe that is how it is supposed to be. I don’t know that his answers would elicit the same feelings in other people; that’s why we each have to make for OURSELVES a Rabbi.
His answers make sense to me, and make me feel supported. Even when they are not what I want to hear. They make me want to grow in Torah in mitzvot. There are times when my husband and I just cannot agree on what is the right thing to do. And there is no worry, because he can give us direction when we reach an impasse.
I don’t understand why this process of finding one Rav both spouses really relate to isn’t a requirement or pushed part of the process of getting married.
There has been much concern from my non-religious and non-Jewish relatives and friends that I let my Rabbi do my thinking for me. That is absolutely not the case, but I do ask him to elucidate halacha and to clarify the role of minhagim (traditions) in our lives. (Not growing up with any religious family members on either side of the family means very few minhagim.)
Pesach time of year is one where I, like most, spend more time checking with the Rav. And I never stop feeling tremendous hakarat hatov – appreciation – that we have him.
The Jerusalem Post has an article today by Matthew Wagner, “Sharp rise in haredi IDF enlistment in 2009” .
The article points out that only a small number of the overall “ultra-orthodox” population is serving in the army. However, it also points out the drastic change from only ten years ago. The reality is that their population is exploding compared to the secular Israeli community, and every year it will slowly continue to have a change on every aspect of Israel; the politics, education, real estate, the economy, and even the army.
I am not Hareidi — what I am is up for dispute. I am a Jew. I am sure I will end up blogging about my lack of label one day. But I think this is great news. I am pleased with diversity in the Jewish people, and I am sure that Hashem is just waiting for us to get it right and love all Jews just as they are, really love them in our hearts, so he can send Moshiach our way already.
It isn’t that I want Israel to be a Hareidi country. Nor do I think the increase in the hareidi population percentage is coming without problems. There are plenty of problems. For one, the infrastructure adjustments are being made so much more slowly than the population growth rate. There is clearly a lack of cooperation and interaction and knowledge to deal with some of the challenges. Most of the problems are a result of Israel’s big government and socialism. Again, for another blog post…..
These are some of the reasons I hail this as really good news:
1. Israel has had a deep need to reconcile its secular beginnings and its religious “fan base” for a very long time. The greater the population of active, participating religious Jews in Israel, the closer we will be to this reconciliation being forced into being.
2. The only population committed to growing at the same rate is the Palestinian population.
3. The lines of “who is what” in Israel are blurring. “Hardal” (Hareidi Dati Leumi) didn’t exist as a concept 10 years ago. The blurring is how we get to loving every Jew, no matter what. I hope. Which is how we get to Moshiach… see above.
4. Hareidim from Jerusalem and secular Jews from Haifa have less in common by far than I do with non-Jewish neighbors who live down my street in the US. The army, while a challenging and volatile environment in which it happens, forces people to learn to live together, to learn about each other, and learn to be responsible for each other.
I don’t think the seeming never-ending changes to Israel’s population makeup are easy. I think they are difficult, painful growing pains that are helping us become the nation we need to be. So really good news.
We were invited to be guests in someone else’s home this past Shabbat. That’s right, 8 out of the 9 of us picked up and moved in with another family for Shabbat. This very brave, gracious family has twelve – yes twelve – children. Don’t worry; only ten of them were home.
