A Halachic Inquiry

Tap tap ... this thing on?

Ahem.

Hello out there in listener/reader land! If you can find me halachos on mezuzah for "pocket doors," I will owe you one delicious coffee beverage of your choice upon our next chance encounter.

Ready?

Set?

GO!

Oh, and in case you have no idea what a pocket door is, it's that door that is a door but it slides INTO the wall. So it's not exactly a sliding door, because for all intents and purposes it disappears into the wall and makes it look as if there is no door to begin with.

Okay, okay ... so you want to know why I'm asking? The local Jewish museum (which is awesome, by the way) has several pocket doors without mezuzot on them, which struck me as odd because I, myself, at home (where there is, in fact, a pocket door leading to my bedroom) have placed a mezuzah. Thus I was left wondering if there's something the Mizel Museum knows that I don't. Someone said that because the door pulls across to become a wall, it doesn't need a mezuzah because walls don't ... get ... mezuzahs. Yeah. But it has all the trappings of a typical doorway! So what gives!?

Onward!

Cosmic Connection? Happenstance? Or HaShem?

Well, I didn't land the free trip to Israel with Nefesh b'Nefesh, but I have to say mazal tov to BadForShidduchim for landing the spot, as well as SoccerDad for almost landing the spot. (Oddly enough, I'm listed as an entrant both as Kvetching Editor and Chaviva Edwards -- combined would I have won? Who knows.) Now I just have to pray that Tuvia and I can make it to Israel for the chatuna of his cousin, Tzippi. I don't know about you guys, but I NEED to be in Israel. Eretz Yisrael is calling my name. It has an invisible string attached to my neshama and it's tugging quite intensely right now.

A quick update on the mezuzah situation: Unfortunately I still haven't found my beautiful mezuzah. I ate dinner on Wednesday by the Chabad rabbi on campus, and he graciously granted me a nifty mezuzah for my door on campus. After we left and headed back to campus to move ALL of my things from one first-floor, horribly stinky mold-filled room to a much smaller, second-floor but non-mold-filled room, Tuvia presented me with a beautiful gift -- a new mezuzah! It's a small pewter mezuzah with dark blue gemstones at each end (which, interestingly, is reminiscent of my birthstone, Sapphire), and it says: Baruch atah b'voecha v'baruch atah b'tzetecha, which means "You shall be blessed when you come, and you shall be blessed when you depart." But there's more!

Last night Tuvia and I went to the shul for mincha/ma'ariv and to have a quick sicha with our rav. Over the course of the conversation, we came to find out that this phrase on my mezuzah is actually found in THIS WEEK'S PARSHAH, Ki Tavo!

*Cue eerie music* 

Now, after the mezuzah situation, you all are going to think I'm really supersticious. But every now and again there are these little moments of "clicks" in my Judaism. I'm thinking about something and instantly/subsequently something happens to answer my question. Like that time I couldn't figure out if it was kosher to use bathroom spray (like Glade) on Shabbat, and when I returned to my book on the forbidden activities for Shabbat, the next page detailed how you can use the spray bottle. I don't want to think that every little thing happens for a reason, or that I need to attribute every little thing to some greater cosmic connection (in the larger sense -- I realize that in truth all is connected!). But when things like this just happen, I have to wonder.

And, okay, I promise this is the last thing I'll say, but I was sitting in my Midrashic Narratives course yesterday and the professor was discussing the Midrash on Abraham (Abram) destroying his father's idols. The midrash serves to explain the meaning of a specific phrase in Genesis, and the professor was detailing a few other spots in Tanakh where the same phrase appears (it's not important to know which, just go with it). I was expecting him to give us the Book, Chapter, and Verse, but he didn't. He simply said "In Exodus ..." and I'm waiting for the chapter and verse, and nothing, so I pick up my Tanakh and open it and land on Exodus 50:1. And there, right there, staring back at me, at this random page that I opened, was the exact verse he was discussing.

So, is it luck? Is it happenstance? Is it some gigantic ball of cosmic thread connecting me from one thing to the other? Is it some secret part of my brain working overtime without me knowing it, providing insight into things I can't even begin to imagine? Is it HaShem reaching down, poking my brain and making it happen?

I don't know, but it has me spiritually enlivened, and just in time to really throw myself into this month of Elul. To really think about the past year, how far I've come in the past year, and where I'm going in 5770. Do you know where you're going?

Some key words in this post: mezuzah (the little item fixed on the doorposts of Jews with a special prayer in it); chatuna (wedding); mazal tov (congratulations); neshama (soul/spirit); Midrash (an written exposition on the underlying meaning of Biblical texts); Tanakh (the five books of Moses); sicha (conversation); mincha/ma'ariv (the afternoon and evening prayers); Shabbat (the Jewish Sabbath); HaShem (the way I write G-d when I don't want to write the name!).

My Mezuzah is Gone.

I'm devastated. Just devastated.

When I converted to Judaism in 2006 (via Reform auspices), my congregation gave me a beautiful basket of goodies to get me started on the derekh. There were candlesticks, candlestick holders, a bottle of Kedem grapejuice, all the fixins for a proper Shabbos. And most importanty was the gift they gave me with the basket -- a mezuzah.

You'll remember the mezuzah. It was beautiful, pewter, and it had adorned so many doors of mine throughout the past three years. I loved that mezuzah. I know that it's got to be somewhere in Evan's house, mixed in with my books or storage or the Judaica, but I can't find it, and it makes me want to cry. I've looked in every knook and cranny, every space that I could have stored it for safe-keeping. It was the last item I removed from my dorm last year when I moved out. That mezuzah means so much to me. I want to hang it on my doorpost at school, because my room feels naked without it, but I can't find it and as a result I'm feeling pretty down.

My initial reaction to losing the mezuzah was that maybe it's a sign. After all, my path has continued to extend itself into the horizon. I have rejected or denied my Reform past, but rather I've built new and different stepping stones through Conservative Judaism and on into Orthodox Judaism. Is losing my mezuzah, a gift after my Reform conversion, a sign that I'm really ready? I'm ready to accept the 613 mitzvoth? To live my life as a Torah-observant Jew? That maybe I need a new mezuzah to fit my new shoes?

I know some of you will say I'm nuts. Signs shmines. And maybe you're right. But knowing how important this mezuzah was to me makes me wonder why it would up and disappear. I checked the places I know I would have put it, but it just vanished.

I guess I'll have to call up Chabad and get a mezuzah for my door. Its generic and plain, but it's something. After all, I suppose the cosmetic appeal of the mezuzah isn't as important as it's fixture. I need that separation of space that the mezuzah brings.

Mezuzot and Me

This post was meant for JewsbyChoice.org, but unfortunately at the moment I am unable to post there. Enjoy!

In early 2005, I was visiting Chicago when I popped in to the Spertus Jewish Museum. While perusing the gift shop, I happ'd upon shelves of these tiny little rectangular boxes in all colors with embellishments like jewels, embossed letters -- you name it. Some had letters that spelled out Shalom, others images from Torah, and still others were very simple and plain. At the time, I had no clue what they were. I'd been studying Judaism for quite a while by then, and I was pretty confident in my general knowledge of all things Judaica, but these little boxes eluded me and there wasn't a gigantic sign that screamed "MEZUZOT! THEY GO ON YOUR DOOR POST!"

I left that day without asking the nice lady behind the counter what they were, and I didn't really think about it the r est of the trip. When I got back to Nebraska, for some reason, I started noticing mezuzot everywhere. The truth of it is, I knew about the mezuzah, I just didn't know the commandment behind it, nor did I know where they went or why. I knew the word, but that was about it. But now, after my encounter with dozens of mezuzot at a gift shop in Chicago, I was spotting them everywhere. It became like a game, trying to figure out what doorways in my shul had them and which didn't, and exploring why certain spaces had them and others didn't.

I didn't own a mezuzah until I converted in April 2006. The synagogue I converted through gave me the most magnificent, beautiful, pewter mezuzah (which you see in the photo here). I was elated, but kept the mezuzah packed away as I hopped from apartment room to room in Washington D.C. in the summer of 2006. Finally, when I landed my own studio apartment, I placed the mezuzah, for the first time, on my own Jewish home. I said the prayer, struggled with the hammer, and smiled at no one, knowing that this little box on my door with parchment inside screamed to the world "A JEW LIVES HERE!" (Of course, I lived in a garden apartment with a side entrance behind a gate, but still -- it was something.)

So the mezuzah -- In truth, mezuzah means "doorpost" in Hebrew. Commonly, though, people think of the mezuzah as the actual little case with the parchment that you hang on the doorpost. On the parchment is Deuteronomy 6:4-9 and 11:13-21, which consist of the "Shema Yisrael" prayer. And why do we post these verses on our doorposts? Because it's a mitzvah! Deut. 6:6 ... 6:9 say "And these words, which I command you this day, shall be upon your heart ... and you shall write them on the doorposts of your homes and upon your gates." The parchment is composed by a special scribe -- a sofer stam -- and the verses are written in special ink on special paper. The mezuzah is placed on the doorpost, on the upper third of the doorway, and typically it's angled inward (this is to accommodate the varying opinions of the sages as to whether it was meant to be vertical or horizontal, not to mention that it symbolizes G-d and Torah entering the abode). As you enter and exit the abode, as you pass through the doorway, you should place your fingers upon the mezuzah case and touch your fingers to your lips. There are a bounty of other bits and pieces about the mezuzah, but I won't delve into them all here. For example, very religious/observant families will likely have a mezuzah on every doorway -- be it a closet or bedroom -- while secular or not-as-observant individuals might just post one at the back and front door of the residence. There are a bounty of rulings about what constitutes a room, how far from the door the mezuzah should go, etc. I also recall reading something once about a mezuzah necklace being not kosher halakichly, but I can't seem to find anything on it right now.

The mezuzah can be found on the doorposts of the most religious and the most secular Jews, perhaps because the mezuzah can be the most outward sign on a home that the family within is Jewish, be it culturally, religiously, spiritually, or something in between. Chabad.org has a great "handbook" online with answers to all the questions that could possibly arise, from what rooms need a mezuzah to where to post it to what it's all about. There's also a great article over on Being Jewish about the mezuzah, not to mention this blog entry written by Leah (a guest poster here on JBC) about her mezuzah, and I think what she has to say is quite beautiful.

In my living room, I have shelves of Jewish books. A decorative dreidel. Extra mezuzot on display in a shadow box. In my desk drawer, next to my birth certificate, is an extra kosher scroll. Above my bed is a painting of the Shema.
More important than all the Judaica is, I hope, an ability to welcome family, friends and strangers into my home. That when I pass the mezuzah on the way out of my house, I carry it with me in my actions. The Judaica helps me see that I’m Jewish and tells the world that this is a Jewish home, but without Jewish actions and Jewish living–all the menorahs in the world won’t make it a Jewish home.

There are a million different Judaica sites where you can purchase mezuzot, and I'm pretty sure that just about every synagogue with even the smallest gift shop sells them. I think that the mezuzah is a beautiful symbol for Jews of all stripes, for essentially it breaks the bounds of being merely a religious Jewish artifact. As you enter and exit your home, you are reminded -- no matter how busy and flustered your mind might be -- that you are a Jew, that you have a Jewish home, no matter how you choose to make it Jewish.

So what's your mezuzah flavor?

(Edited)

Revolving Mezuzot!?

While I stood yesterday at my favorite Jewish-ish diner in the South Loop of Chicago -- Eleven City Diner -- waiting for one of my best friends from high school and her newish husband to arrive for lunch yesterday, I discovered a perplexing question I had no answer to, as I watched people shuffle in and out of, well, a revolving door -- the choice of entryway for many Chicago establishments, to keep the cold in and the heat out. The question?

Do you affix a mezuzah to a revolving door? Is there any responsa about revolving doors and whether it is necessary to affix mezuzot to them?

So, if anyone knows, please let me know. Otherwise, I'll find a rabbi and ask, like the Orthodox community websites for Brandeis and Penn tell me to!