Marriage: The Law in the Custom

For the first time in what seems like a long time, I have a lot of blog posts in mind that don't involve pulling from the Ask Chaviva Anything! log of inquiries and curiosities. A lot of this is probably because of pending nuptials (whoa, getting married in just a few days!), but also because I feel like with the move to Neve Daniel I'm in a more curious and settled head space than I have been for a while now. So where do I begin?

On Friday, Mr. T and I bumped into several people over the course of the morning in Neve Daniel, which I'm sure raised some eyebrows. Why?

Traditionally, the week leading up to a religious Jewish couple's wedding the two don't see neither hide nor hair of their betrothed. On the day of the wedding, there traditionally is fasting and more not seeing, even before the actual chuppah itself. The keyword here is "traditionally."

The first time I got married, my ex and I didn't see each other the week before the wedding, which created a lot of entertaining choreography as we were staying in the same city, and pretty much the same house but on different levels. On the day of the wedding, we didn't see each other up until the point of picture taking, at which time we decided that it made sense to see each other.

Although Mr. T and I have decided that the day of the wedding we won't be seeing each other, we concluded -- after some research and investigation into the whole "not seeing each other thing -- that we're going to let minhagim be minhagim (traditions) and not stress out about avoiding each other during the week before the wedding.

I know what you're thinking: Catastrophe! Disaster! Shanda! But hold your horses. What would you do if I told you that the basis for this tradition is not in halakah (Jewish law)? What about the fact that Sephardim don't even observe this custom?

Yes, friends, shocker time. The whole avoidance pre-wedding is a tradition that has some shady and unclear origins, ranging from medieval fears of bad luck to the fact that most religious people just weren't in the same place the week up to the wedding (and in most cases, the months up to the wedding after the engagement).

You can read the entire megillah on this topic over at the OU, but I'll give you the rundown quickly here.

This custom seems to date back to as early as 1228, but in Jerusalem it was introduced in the early 1700s. The main reasons cited by poskim for why a couple shouldn't see each other in the week leading up to the wedding are that forced separation builds excitement and that it decreases the likelihood of premarital relations (seriously?), but also that it can be a tense period of time in which strife could arise and the wedding could be called off as a result of stress, tension, and arguments (“There is no marriage contract that does not contain a quarrel,” Shabbat 130a). After watching a few episodes of Bridezillas, this makes gobs of sense, but it also doesn't explain why in most religious circles this has become the required "law." Where exactly does it all come from?

Let's start with this interesting morsel.

"In a footnote, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan (Made in Heaven, [New York, 1983], p. 67) cites two other works that mention the custom, and then states that the source for the custom may be YD 192:1, the section that deals with dam chimud ... [which is the] concern that meeting the chatan [groom] may cause the kallah [bride]to have a discharge that could invalidate the shivah nekiyim (seven clean days before going to the mikvah)."

Both Rabbi Kaplan and Rabbi Binyomin Forst find this tie suspect at best, because the Talmud requires that upon accepting a marriage proposal or setting a wedding date that she might discharge blood as a result of the excitement (talk about a complete lack of understanding about the female body, am I right?). Even if this were to happen, she's still required to observe seven "clean days" prior to the wedding, so unless she's getting engaged and married seven days later, there's no concern here (also, because, you know, women don't bleed when they get excited). 

In Sefer Minhagim: The Book of Chabad-Lubavitch Customs, the footnote simply cites letters from the Rebbe Menachem Mendel Schneerson as the basis for the tradition. However, 

"Nitei Gavriel, a recent, comprehensive source of customs, does not mention this practice, but records that around one hundred years ago, there was a custom in Jerusalem of the bride and groom going together to famous rabbis to get their blessings during the week before the wedding (Hilchot Nisuin, p. 55, in the name of Sdei Chemed, Ma’arechet Chatan Vekallah, 22)."

The reality is that halakah requires that a bride and groom must see each other before the wedding, which makes this custom kind of strange even at its very roots. Even Ravs Moshe Feinstein and Aharon Soloveichik advocated for not letting this custom serve as an inconvenience to couples prior to the wedding. 

So what did you do when getting married, or what do you plan on doing when you get married? Did you realize just how custom-y this was, or have you always assumed it was halakah? 

Atheists Know More Than You!

When I say "you," I'm referring to the whole lot of you who are Jewish and Christian and whatever else you might call yourself. That is, according to a Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life study, reported on in today's New York Times.

Mad props to those who identify as Atheist/Agnostic. But what explains why the A/A group seems to know so much more about religion than those who identify themselves with and profess it? I've got a simple answer, and no offense to my good buddies who are A/A, but I find most atheists and agnostics to be fairly, well, defensive about their stance. In my experience, they know a lot more than anyone else because they have to or need to in order to stand up in arguments of why exactly being religious is wrong, ridiculous, or just straight pointless. Without a religion to dwell on, knowledge on world religions is pulled from every corner of the earth in order to understand and explain away its ideas. Maybe that's a radical view, but from my experience, you have to be educated about something if you really want to argue it. Religious individuals are firm in their faith or beliefs set and often don't question anything because belief and faith are enough; in the end, there's no need to defend anything. It's a sort of false confidence that often leaves religious individuals befuddled when asked about basic big questions of their religion. When I say this, of course, I'm referring to everyone: Jews, Christians, Muslims, you name it.

Here are some of the surprising (and embarrassing) statistics with my thoughtful commentary:

+ Fifty-three percent of Protestants could not identify Martin Luther as the man who started the Protestant Reformation. This is just ... wow. This is really sad. It shows you how much people in the modern period pay homage to the big dogs of the religious past. 

+ Forty-five percent of Catholics did not know that their church teaches that the consecrated bread and wine in holy communion are not merely symbols, but actually become the body and blood of Christ. Seriously? Really? I wonder if this alters how any Catholics feel about the rite/ritual. It also reminds me of the amusing (to me anyway) TV spot on some thief who stole the body and blood of Christ from a church in Pennsylvania. The people quoted in the spot kept saying "Someone stole the body! How could someone steal the body?!" Which just made me giggle. Anyone who just turned on their TV would assume that someone picked up a body from the morgue or something.

+ Forty-three percent of Jews did not know that Maimonides, one of the foremost rabbinical authorities and philosophers, was Jewish. Oh wow. Really? Maimonides! Thirteen Principles of Faith! Probably the greatest mind of his time! This is embarrassing, and probably relates to a lack of education on the big dogs of Jewish history and memory. Shame shame shame my yidden!

+ The question about Maimonides was the one that the fewest people answered correctly. But 51 percent knew that Joseph Smith was Mormon, and 82 percent knew that Mother Teresa was Roman Catholic. Okay, so maybe I can dismiss the Maimonides thing. Mad props to the people who answered it correction (I wonder which group managed to get it right the most?). Glad to know that so many are familiar with Joseph Smith and Mother Teresa. It shows how far back our religious memories go -- they pretty much stop pre-1800 it appears. 


(Interestingly, they didn't get enough Muslims to really be able to say how their knowledge compared. This seems really, really bizarre.)

Tugging My Strings

Well before I left for Israel, and well after I got back, I was feeling a void religiously and spiritually. It happens. We all know that it comes in stages. For months we'll feel connected, tied to G-d and the community and our spiritual strings are happily tugged day and night. And then, out of nowhere, one day we realize that the strings are covered in dust and cobwebs and their limpness leaves us feeling empty. Of course the "we" and "us" is really me. The other night I told Tuvia this. I mentioned that I was feeling kind of empty. I realized that I hadn't written about anything religious in some time on the blog (though, I guess to some it might seem like I have). It seemed like everything I had written was pop culture or politics or just general "blah blah blah." It's been a long, long time since I've written a d'var Torah and probably even longer since I sat down and read through the parshah. I used to be on the ball, head-first, my strings were active.

So I was looking forward to shul on Friday. Tuvia and I drove over to the Orthodox shul, arriving a little bit after minchah had started. I remembered to take my transliterated siddur with me, since I'm not so comfortable with the regular Artscroll just yet. Add to this that the shul's siddurim are in much-loved shape, I figure better I batter my own copy rather than their's.  I found my place quickly in the women's section, opened up my siddur, jumped to where we were, and began to daven. The men's section was loaded with men in varied kippahs, some in black hats, some with payess, some with beards, some meandering about. The women's section was empty except for me until another woman showed up next to me. But I was so in the zone the entire service that I missed things going on on the other side, missed any missteps or air bubbles in the service. I read the words with strict devotion, I threaded my tongue around the syllables, hoping to find that passion, to feel the tug of those strings, and it happened. Slowly, but surely.

After the service, we headed over to our Shabbos dinner hosts' house, where we were joined by another couple and a family of five. Overall, there were 13 of us at that Shabbos dinner table, noshing salad and challah and kugel and pie. Conversation flowed from Israel to the local Jewish day schools, from school to Nebraska and Wisconsin. The hospitality was good and Midwestern, which is what I'm used to. The host reminded me so much of the Kosher Academic, which is probably why the entire experience was so comforting and at-ease. I didn't feel like I had to act a certain way or say certain things. It was exactly what I needed to continue the evening. The strings continued to be pulled, I was alive again. With the blessings and the kippah-headed men and the challah and the bensching ... I missed all of these things.

I think I just miss the full Shabbos experience: services, conversation, the meal, the wine and the blessings, the feeling of the evening and the day, the real rest and focus. Luckily, the people at the shul are so kind, so welcoming that we've been invited back for Shabbos dinner and the full-day Shabbos experience.

This week, I'll be here on campus for my first Shabbat at Chabad in weeks. Nay, probably in a month and a half. I'm excited to hook back up with the campus Jewish crew, but I am also disappointed that I won't be making challah and lighting the candles and enjoying Shabbat with Tuvia, but all good things come in time.

Until then, I'm shining my strings and hoping they continue to lead me on and on and on ...

I warn you, this post is full of snark.

A hearty mazel tov to Germany on their new citizenship exam!

But, well, let's just say that the region has still not healed and/or come to terms with the Holocaust. How's this evident? Well, the new citizenship test displays 320 questions on German history and society, and not once is the Holocaust mentioned. Because, well, you know, the Holocaust just never happened and definitely has nothing to do with Germany, right!?

What's more, on the question of which religion most influenced European and German culture, among the possible answers are Hinduism, Christianity, Buddhism and Islam -- but no Judaism. Peculiar? Yes, yes I think so. It's sort of big doins, especially in Germany, right? But the questionnaire does proffer questions about Germany's Christian heritage, such as asking what the last four weeks before Christmas are called. (Is this common knowledge? Because, well, I just don't know.)

At any rate, if you're planning on becoming a German citizen, this test will become the standard across the board beginning September 1. Way to wave that flag of cultural insensitivity, Germany! Someday you'll make amends with the past and move along in an adult, mature, sensible, culturally sensitive fashion.

Until then? Well, I bite my thumb in your general direction.

Israel and Palestine: A Roadmap to Nowhere

I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated with peace, the two-state "solution," and I'm frustrated with the effort. I'm frustrated that for nearly 60 years there has been nothing but talk talk talk. I'm frustrated that there will never be a solution to the Palestinian-Israeli conflict.

I'm not a pessimist, I'm a realist. When I say that there will never be a solution, what I really mean is that the next great war, the next great instigation of demolition and destruction of the human soul and hope will arise in Israel, likely in Jerusalem.

The thing is, the talks that are going on today are not new. The people there at the talks know this. They're not naive or stupid. They know that the things they are saying have been repeated, rinsed, and repeated since the creation of the State of Israel in 1948. Except, well, maybe for Bush. He seems to stay optimistic. Who wouldn't want to solve the great Middle East debacle before leaving office, especially with the striped past 6 years he's had?

[The text of the agreement to kick off the talks can be read here.]

The talks will always, always stall on one thing: Jerusalem.

Everyone has a claim on it, and you can't split the city up three ways -- to Christians, Muslims and Jews. It just doesn't work that way. And even if you could split it up (which has been talked about before, believe me), no one will go for it. That's the other big thing.

In the past, talks have often stalled because it's all or nothing.

I can't even enumerate how many options have been suggested in the 60 years since the creation of Israel. It's almost nauseating the give and take and give and take and desperation. In the 1960s there were a group of Palestinians willing to compromise, willing to seek peace and leave the "all or nothing" philosophy behind. But those people were killed, and it is believed those who died trying to create peace were killed by the very Palestinians they wanted to help. Their own people!

I almost find it hard to discuss the situation. When I worked at the Washington Post, two of my coworkers asked me what I was going to do with my future after leaving the Post. I responded that I was going to go to graduate school for Judaic studies. One asked me what I thought about the situation in Israel, and I explained that it's pretty helpless and gave her my reasons. The other suggested I make it my goal to build a better Israel for Israelis and Palestinians. I smiled, knowing the impossibility of such a thought. Not because I'm incapable, but because I try not to involve myself in the situation, neither in discussion nor in action.

My reasons were this: Jerusalem will not, and can not be divided, thus creating the world's greatest stalemate over the world's most contested area; religious fervor and war will be the end all to this discussion. Additionally, the problem that many in the 60s ran into was that Palestinians were more comfortable playing the victim than they were with peace. Everyone knows that it is easier to be in pain and be hurt than it is to seek the best, most socially responsible route to success. It's like being unhappy is easier than trying to be happy. It's not rocket science, it's just the way we are. I'm not saying Palestinians to blame, but they've raised generations of victims, and Israel -- not to mention the Arab states -- haven't done a thing to see that change. The Palestinians are comfortable being the world's largest refugee population. If you take that away from them, they're just another people. What's so special about that? And finally, the Arab world has turned its back on the Palestinians time and time again, leaving the Palestinians to exist as a refugee population, so how are they any better than Israel? In the beginning, several Arab states -- namely Jordan -- were interested in the issue with motive more than murder and genocide. Then, poof. Nobody wanted anything to do with the Palestinians. Once again, they could safely be the victim, wanting it all or nothing.

So I guess the biggest question is: What now?

I don't have an answer. No one does. You can create all the peace plans in the world. You can say "poor Israel" or "poor Palestinians." You can cut off every Arab country in the world that plans a suicide bomber in Israel in the name of Allah, and you can do the same to every militant Israeli group that seeks to rid his or her country of Palestinians. You can do whatever you want politically and socially, but it isn't going to fix the situation. I don't think there *is* a way to fix the situation. This doesn't mean don't try, it just means ... maybe time could be spent on something else.

What I do have an answer for, is the effects of the conflict. There's that old saying about prevention, how you should go for the source, don't treat the effects or however it goes. It's like the man who loses his leg in a horrible car wreck. Why focus on finding and mending the leg when you could focus instead on how his life will be changed and how to make him better as a result? I'm not saying don't fight for peace, but in reality you can't focus on fixing the problem, you have to focus on fixing the effect it has on society. You can create social organizations, you can educate people, you can give to the Red Cross, you can heal the wounded, feed the hungry. These things are NOT futile, they're necessary. They're doable.

I don't mean to be another pimple on the face of the conflict, but folks, being a realist does not mean giving up hope and being a pessimist. It just means that you understand the history of the situation and that you understand the cyclical nature of these talks, the ramifications, the stalemate, the inevitable devastation. And if it so happens that peace is reached, that a Palestinian state is created, that Israel or the Palestinians give up wanting Jerusalem on THEIR side of the state? Then I'm taking every Jew I know out for a big ole beer and some brisket. And hold me to that.

Until then, I will sit and wait for another Aziz Shehadeh to appear and fight for the two-state solution in a logical, caring manner for the Palestinian people. And maybe I'll reread Strangers in the House, and pray truly hard that peace be possible, not just this tug-of-war pot of frustration and destruction.

Sometimes I ask myself, was this *really* what Theodor Herzl wanted?

Um ...

When Christianity and Scientology meet: Click Here.

It looks like this is happening in low income areas. Is this surprising? No, it isn't. I'm not going to lie. In my world, Scientology is a parasitic "faith." In my mind, it's like Mormonism. I'm not going to deny that it is any different in its efforts for proselytizing than is Evangelical Christianity or deeply religious Jewish groups, but Scientology and Mormonism are very, very persistent and insistent on finding converts.

(Rev. Charles) Kennedy knew that before he could introduce any Scientology-related text to his congregation, he would have to prove that it did not contradict his Christian beliefs. And so, he found Scripture to match each of the 21 principles (in "The Way to Happiness" -- Hubbard's 64-page, self-described "common sense guide to better living").

Weird, non?