Kosher Flops and Flips

I've been having a lot of really interesting conversations with people lately about kashrut, which makes me think back to some of my less-than-stellar days of refining the art of keeping kosher. It's a journey for all of us, and sometimes it takes years to really take on a full regimen of kashrut. Some cases in point?

Flop No. 1? 
During the first week of classes at the University of Connecticut (where I was to get my first M.A. in Judaic studies), there was a big welcome cook-out over at Hillel, so I decided to go outside my typical box of comfortability in order to schmooze with the campus Jews. At that point, it was August 2008 and I had been an "official" Reform Jew for about a year and a half. I'd slowly been taking on more kashrut, especially after Passover 2008 when I decided that I was set for an Orthodox conversion. I didn't kasher anything, but I kept on my tradition of no pork and no shellfish (which I'd taken on even before I went to a Reform shul for the first time many, many years before) and decided I was going to avoid mixing meat and milk.

While waiting in line at the cook-out to grab my own kosher burger, salads, and chips, I spotted little packets of ketchup, mustard, and ... GASP ... mayo! I started to get really nervous, looking around to see if anyone else was reacting to the mayo on the table. I mean, they said this was kosher meat and that all the fixins were kosher too, didn't they? Okay, okay, so I wasn't fully kosher, but I wasn't about to mix meat and dairy! Come on people!

Yes. I thought, stupidly, for no apparent reason, that mayo was dairy. Yipes. The thing is, I never really ate mayo, so my ignorance should have been expected. Luckily, I didn't make an arse of myself by saying anything to anyone and instead Googled it the moment I got home. Can you imagine how stupid I felt?

Flop No. 2? 
Living in the dorms, I canceled my meal plan after one semester because I simply didn't like going to the cafeteria and the kosher cafeteria (the reason I bought the plan to begin with) was on the other side of campus and I just wasn't into the schlep (my dorm was right next to the building in which I worked, the classes in which I took, and the library in which I lived). Thus, I had to rely on the groceries I picked up every week when Tuvia (who I started dating at the start of my time at UConn) came out and picked me up and drove me over to the Wal-Mart. I got into a habit of eating vegetarian in my dorm almost exclusively, but at some point I was craving meat so I ended up eating a lot of breaded chicken patties, and I made sure -- really made sure -- to never mix meat and dairy, despite my own frustations with chicken as "meat." (I think I thought I was a Karaite.)

And then? Well, I made dinner as usual. Threw a chicken patty in the microwave, popped a piece of cheese on it, threw on some pasta sauce and voila! made my favorite dish of yore, Chicken Parm. I gobbled it up while watching something on my computer and then, suddenly, I realized what I was eating. Holy crap. What do I do? Do I make myself throw up? I didn't do it on purpose I started shouting in my head! It was an accident! What do I do!?

Well, of course, I went to AskMoses.com. And the kind random person behind the computer told me that there was nothing I could do to make it better or to go away. Of course, the person behind the computer didn't know that I had only had a Reform conversion so technically, according to halacha, I'd done nothing wrong -- I was a non-Jew eating milk and meat together. No biggie, right? But the person talking to me at AskMoses.com talked me down, explained to me that it wasn't something I'd intentionally done, so while it was wrong, there was no way to repent, if you will. I felt better, I'll say that much, but man was that a serious flop.

(Note: I haven't found a good replacement for Chicken Parm, unfortunately with the gluten-free thing. Eggplant Parm just isn't the same. Oh Morningstar why must you have wheat?!)

Flippity Flop!
The thing about kashrut is that it's a journey, and it's one that isn't at all easy or always fun to travel on. I stopped eating pork and shellfish probably sometime back in 2003, long before I even knew there was a Reform shul in town. But I started there because I knew there was something I could start with that was easy to do and it would connect me to generations of religious and assimilated Jews.

But after that, it took me until 2008 to really even consider the idea of separation of meat and milk completely, and even after I started, Tuvia and I still ate out dairy. But after I went to and returned from Middlebury, Vermont, in Summer 2009, I couldn't do the eating-out-dairy thing anymore -- I felt like I was cheating, being hypocritical. Not everyone feels that way, and I don't expect anyone to feel that way, but we did. And then? We went on that big journey of kashrut together. And now look at us -- we're all super frum with the kashrut.

And it's still hard. I don't know if it ever gets easy. Every now and again I have cravings, strange cravings, for things like Chick-Fil-A and Chipotle and other places that, to be completely honest, I wouldn't be able to eat at anyway because I'm now gluten-free. Saving grace? Maybe HaShem is trying to give me an easy time? Probably not. Cravings are cravings -- they don't go away. But the nice thing is that with modern cooking, you can pretty much figure out a way to satisfy any craving with creative cooking. Likewise, leaving in Teaneck has us pretty spoiled foodwise.

Don't worry about making mistakes. I grab the wrong utensil more often than I should, and we end up doing a lot of kashering (sorry Tuvia!). One of the wisest things I ever read (or was it heard?) was that as long as you acknowledge that there's a goal (in this case being shomer kashrut), then your mistakes and stumbles will not stand in judgment of you. Or something like that. Basically? As long as you say "I will, someday, be a kosher Jew," then your steps and missteps to get there will be accepted as growing pains rather than your downfall. Stick to your guns, and you can make it happen!

It's a Negative Mitzvah to Not What?

There are a lot of really horribly written and poorly edited pieces of Judaica out there. I've kvetched about plenty, including one that was required reading for my conversion that was more confusing than it was worth (don't use your oven on Shabbos! okay, you can use it, but only in this way! did we mention NEVER to use your oven?). But this one, folks, takes the cake for ridiculousness.

The book? The Concise Book of Mitzvoth.

The translation on this is horrible. Horrible to the point of being absolutely blasphemous. The problem? In Hebrew, double-negatives are the norm. For example, to say "No one was there," you would say אף אחד לא היו שם. Translate that into English literally and you end up with "No one wasn't there," which means people were there. Thus, well, just ... look at this.

No! That doesn't give you right to start oppressing me, just because a book compiled by The Chafetz Chayim says so. But reading all of the negative commandments gave me a huge laugh. If a non-Jew picked up this book, they'd probably have some serious material to work with (of course, until they read the Hebrew, which is clear as day). I'll leave you with this one, which is just downright disturbing.

This is when literal translation goes wrong, wrong, SO wrong. Oy.

Yes, I'll Cover. Now Cover Your Hair!

EDIT: CONTEST FOR GIVEAWAY OPEN UNTIL MONDAY EVENING, 10 p.m. SHARP!

In about three months time, I'll be a happily married kallah. First and foremost this means I'll be both happy and married. What comes next, of course, are a few changes, the most immediate probably being that I'll be covering my hair! Yes, I'm going to cover my hair. The devastated looks on peoples' faces when I relate this news is funny to me. The typical verbal reaction is, "But your hair is so ... it's so you!" It's true, and I've had this hair for a long time, since I cut it right before my senior year of high school. I've been using the same product, styling it the same, for the past nine years. I'll admit, I'm a little sad about the prospect, too. In shul, women identify me by my hair, and I'm worried that the when I start covering I'm going to fade into the background, being just another married Orthodox Jewish woman with her hair covered. This, of course, is a truly fleeting thought for me. After all, isn't my personality the one thing that truly should shine? Not my hair?!

So why am I covering my hair? Maybe it's all of the incredibly beautiful hat, scarves, and other things I'll be able to paint my noggin with! (That's too easy, however, especially with all of the pretty things over at CoverYourHair.com.) In truth, the reasons are plenty. I don't know that I can really verbalize them well, but it's about being committed to my husband, spiritually and visibly; it's about respect to HaShem; and it's about being me, a new phase of me, the Jewish married me. I'm excited about covering, and in preparation for this new step, I've been stockpiling pretty head coverings, including when I was in Israel and bought a few scarves. I'm not going sheitel style, at least for the immediate future until it is or becomes necessary. One of the beautiful items I've added to the collection, provided by the lovely ladies of CoverYourHair, is a Cute Pull-On Hat -- a cute, crocheted number that, well, give it a look below.

I'm excited to tote this little number around after I get hitched in May, and it fits like a glove. It's a one-size-fits all, and for someone like me who sometimes has a noggin too large for some hats, I was so excited to find one that fits perfectly. And the flowery embellishments? Ooo so cute! It's definitely one of my favorite colors (brown), but with a flare of color (green and shades of brown/tan). Now, I just have to figure out what to do about my bangs once I go for hats and scarves! While I contemplate my visible hair choices, you, my lovely readers, get the chance to win something great from the folks at CoverYourHair.com!

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1) Join our Google Friend Connect. Go to www.coveryourhair.com/blog, and click "Join This Site" in the Google Friend Connect box.

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5) Add www.coveryourhair.com to your blog roll.

Good luck to everyone!

[NOTE: This contest will close on Friday, February 26 at 4 p.m., unless I decide to extend until Motzei Shabbos around 11 p.m. Saturday. I'll likely extend the contest if I want/need more entrants!]

The Unorthodox Orthodox Jews

An interesting article that is more an interview than an article came across my inbox today in one of my many listservs that I am a part of. I give a private nod to the woman who sent it my way (and the way of many), and suggest y'all give it a gander.

America's Unorthodox Orthodox Jews: A Conversation With Professor Jeffrey Gurock

The intro:

He put on tefillin every day. He was rarely absent from shul. He ate only kosher. But during the busy season in the garment industry, this Bronx Jew who grew up in the first half of the 20th century worked on Shabbat. Can such a person be considered an Orthodox Jew?

Today many Jews would answer "no." However, this gentleman and many others like him appear in a new book, Orthodox Jews in America, which examines the many shades of American Orthodoxy over the past 350 years.

The book's author, Jeffrey Gurock, has written and edited 14 other works, is a former associate editor of American Jewish History, and currently is Libby M. Klaperman Professor of Jewish History at Yeshiva University. The Jewish Press recently interviewed him about his book.

And the major talking point?

"What makes someone Orthodox is his understanding that one is required to observe the mitzvot. Someone could be a Reform Jew and observe many of the mitzvot, but he's not Orthodox because this is a personal decision he makes not based upon a belief in a halachic tradition."

The Chag is Over!

The holidays are over -- at last! I don't say this entirely out of excitement, but it will be interesting to get back to the regular humdrum of my academic life. I spent Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah at Chabad, eating in the sukkah with friends and neighbors and playing with the children and then dancing around as the Torah bounced about in the room. It was joyous, by golly, and this being my first year observing these holidays? Well, I feel good about where I am going. The holidays that follow Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are staples in my life now and as an eternal covenant.

What else is new? I got a copy of "Going Kosher in 30 Days" in the mail earlier this week from The Jewish Learning Group. If you'll recall, I blogged about this book earlier this year (in July actually), and they actually sent me a copy! I've only read through the introduction, but I'm already quite excited about the book. I think it might have come in more handy when I wasn't living a kitchen-less college lifestyle, but as I anticipate not getting a meal plan next semester, I'm going to be living a crockpot/microwave/toaster lifestyle that will allow me to do the kosher thing on my own terms. (Okay, I never mentioned it but the vegetarian thing just didn't work out.) Add to this that Evan has decided to go "kosher style," I am finally tagging on no MEAT no DAIRY, period. Before I would rationalize chicken/dairy because it isn't a kid in its mothers milk (as opposed to goat meat in goat milk and beef in cow milk), but, well, I'm going the distance. I know the reasons behind the ruling, and I know that I don't necessarily agree. But the ethical reasons are compelling even if the rabbi's reasons aren't necessarily. Then again, as "Going Kosher" says: "... mitzvot that are observed solely 'on faith' ... are the purest demonstration of our faith and dedication to G-d's Words."

But it's on that note that I offer up a couple little explanatory morsels on things that I've always wondered about and haven't really understood. The challah thing has been something I've wondered about for years and years and have meant to ask about or look up, and yet haven't. The other is something new that I have been exposed to recently that I was curious about. Although I agree with the "Going Kosher" take, I also think it's important for us to understand why we perform the traditions and mitzvot that we do. If there's anything YOU have wondered about, let me know, and I'll fix you up an answer straight away!

+ Why do we say the hamotzi over two loaves of challah on Shabbos and festivals? This has perplexed me for eons, seriously, for years, and I never got around to looking it up, I just understood that that was how things were to be done, and even when I made the blessing myself, I'd make sure I had two challah loaves. This double loaf -- lechem mishneh -- represents the manna that fell from the heavens when the Israelites were wandering in the desert during the 40 years. The manna did not fall on the Sabbath or holidays, instead a double portion fell before the Sabbath and the holidays.

+ Why during the blessing after the meal -- birkat hamazon -- is there a hand-washing portion? So technically the hand washing is meant to happen before the birkat hamazon, so I'm confused (still) about whether the portion before the birkat hamazon is something different or related. But at any rate, the practice is prevalent in Orthodox communities and is more a tradition than a mitzvah. It was instituted for health reasons (back when people ate with their hands more) and there is even a ritual dispenser (called mayim acharonim) that is used to dispense the water. The practice appears in Talmud, but it's sort of up in the air from group to group as to whether it's really binding.

The Etrog of My Heart

Today, I did something I have never done before. I took some steps, into a structure, and did something that I have wanted to do for so long, yet, haven't had the chance to go through with.

I was on my way to the cafeteria for some lunch before my 12:30, and it was about 11:45. On my way I passed through the graduate quad and saw a table set up outside the pop-up sukkah, so I decided to pop by and see if I could get my lulav shaking on. Lo and behold, there was the fellow who got the sukkah put up doing some prayers. I stood off to the side, not wanting to intrude, and he came out of the sukkah, gestured for me to go in. He handed me the lulav, and delicately opened the little white box to reveal the etrog cradled gently in foam. He took it out and handed it to me, directing me on how to hold the two objects in my hands, but silently.

He opened his siddur, which, might I add, was all in Hebrew/English and lacking transliterations, and pointed to the prayers as I read them aloud -- in Hebrew -- while holding the objects. He then directed me in the movements of the objects: forward, to the heart, forward, to the heart ... and so on. The rustling of the lulav was accomplished with the most subtle of movements, and as I pulled the lulav and etrog toward me, it was as if the etrog were thrusting itself through to my heart, placing itself in my chest chambers, and moving back out with each movement.

And when I was done, the kindly fellow asked me if I'd said the Shema yet, and I hadn't, so he pointed me in the siddur where to go, and I read the Shema and some other things and then we talked about why I haven't been by the rabbi's for Shabbat, how women aren't bound to the Sukkot requirements, etc. And then? I plodded off, listening to the band Beirut, and got some lunch while reading some documents he'd given me about Sukkot, Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah (adorned with the rebbe's likeness and what have you).

When we were talking, and when the ritual was being performed, I couldn't smell or think of anything but the potency of the etrog. Because of it's shape, the etrog (a citron, sorta like a lemon), is said to resemble the heart. It is meant to represent the ideal Jew -- one who has both knowledge of Torah and good deeds, as the etrog is both pleasant in taste and in smell.

And, perhaps, when I felt that thump in my heart as I brought the etrog and lulav toward me, I was longing to be that ideal Jew, the one with a balance of Torah and deeds. The Jew I am in my dreams of Hasidic teachings and the Jew who will daven.

Forward I go, and with that -- Chag Sameach!

Rashi's Daughters, revisted.

Okay, okay. Let me explain myself.

In this post, I issued my irritation at the perpetuation of Rashi's daughters as a true, factual set of events in history, whereas in truth it is merely a legend developed with no factual documentation beyond it's first appearance in the 18th century. However, I never said that there are no factual instances of women donning tefillin or studying Talmud or being learned in the ways of halakah or Judaism.

There are many instances of this, including that Michal, daughter of King Saul, donning tefillin. In Eruvin in the Talmud there is also notation that "Michal daughter of Kushi wore tefillin and the sages did not protest." Likewise, the wife of Chaim ibn Attar and the Maiden of Ludmir (19th century) also were known to have practiced this mitzvah.

To be sure, tefillin is not prohibited for women. You see, it's a time-bound mitzvah to which women are not held. However, this does not necessarily mean it is prohibited. Some sages, including Rashi and the Rambam said that it was completely acceptable, but that women were not to say the b'racha (blessing), because the "who has commanded us" would not apply. Specifically, the Rambam says, "Women, slaves, and minors are exempt from tzitzit from the Torah ... women and slaves who want to wrap themselves in tzitzit may do so without a berakha. And so too with other such mitzvot from which women are exempt: if they want to perform them without a berakha, one does not protest" (Hilkhot Tsitsit 3:9).

My point in all of this is that there is a difference between historical documentation of women -- plain or semi-important or even great women -- donning tefillin or writing responsa or studying Talmud and Rashi's daughters doing these things. Why is this? Well, Rashi is perhaps one of the greatest Jewish thinkers of all time, and I don't think anyone would disagree with me there. There is much more weight, as such, put into the stories of his daughters being this great liberating, free thinking women of the 11th century than of perhaps any other women of the 11th century doing these things. It's about influence, reputation.

In all things we seek out the best, most reliable source of information if we are preparing to do something. It is why there is a ladder, so to speak, in just about every aspect of life. We seek out the most reliable mechanic on how to fix our cars, we go to the best doctors we can find to seek the best treatment for our ailments, we take our ques from those with the best reputation and we rely on them to not lead us astray.

Hopefully this makes sense. I am not rallying for or against women donning tefillin, really. It isn't for me, but I appreciate that it is completely permissible for women to do so. I just think that when the debates arise about women studying Talmud or doing nontraditional (for women) mitzvot, it shouldn't always come back to "Well, Rashi's daughters did it!" because we know that this has no factual history to it before the 18th century -- hundreds of years after the fact.

I do agree, though, with those supporters of the Rashi's daughters legend, that Rashi's daughters are important and significant in the history of Jewish women, it gives us inspiration and hope, but I just want it to be clear in the same vein, that this is a legend and like all great legends, there is room for error.

As David Mikkelson, who runs snopes.com, once said, "...our willingness to accept legends depends far more upon their expression of concepts we want to believe than upon their plausibility."

A brief Shavuot spiel.

Shavuot, says My Jewish Learning, "is among the least-observed Jewish holidays today. But the holiday is deeply meaningful, and makes up in theology what it lacks in ritual."

In its most simplest phrasing, Shavuot is the celebration of the revelation of Torah at Sinai to Israel. The holiday is directly connected to Pesach, which began seven weeks ago. Between Pesach and Shavuot, we count the Omer, and at the conclusion of the counting, bam! There is Shavuot, the festival of weeks (though it has many different names). The holiday also commemorates the harvest, and it is for this reason that some believe those in the U.S. and the Diaspora have a difficult time connecting with Shavuot, for it still has this agricultural significance in Israel.

Though there are no set mitzvot for the holiday aside from the typical (no work, etc.), there are customs that are incredibly prominent in observance today. These include

• אקדמות – Akdamot, the reading of a liturgical poem during Shavuot morning synagogue services
• חלב – Chalav (milk), the consumption of dairy products like milk and cheese
• רות – Ruth, the reading of the Book of Ruth at morning services
• ירק – Yerek, the decoration of homes and synagogues with greenery
• תורה – Torah, engaging in all-night Torah study.

That fourth one, yerek, was news to me when I began poking around to refresh myself on the significance and practices of Shavuot. On the upside, I do have a bounty of fruit in my home, which is also part of the collecting of greenery and fruits for the home. I've always wanted to engage in all-night Torah study, but to this date, I have not done so. It has logistically usually been impossible, and I thought perhaps this would be the year, but once again, work has gotten in the way (not to mention I took last Monday off and it would probably be seen as a little suspicious if I did it again).

However, the upside of this is that I can spend tomorrow evening and throughout the day tomorrow at work (in between odd jobs) studying Torah and reading the Book of Ruth. I recently read through Ruth while working on a project to compose entries for a Bible Dictionary in the works (my topics: Ruth, Naomi, Mara, and Tzipporah). The significance of the Book of Ruth for converts -- and for this holiday -- is profound, especially considering recent events vis a vis the revocation of conversions in Israel.

You see, the Book of Ruth is read because it corresponds with the harvest, as Ruth worked in the field with Boaz. Likewise, the book comprises the lineage of King David, who himself arose from the lineage of a convert -- Ruth. It is within texts like this that I sit back and wonder what a proper conversion for Ruth would have been like, and how -- after all these years -- we can still wonder about a convert when so much of Jewish history was shaped by a child born of a convert's line. Some of the greatest leaders, thinkers and artists have been converts of all stripes, as well.

Of course the best part of Shavuot -- or so most think -- is all the delicious dairy that is consumed. Myself being of the not-a-lot-of-dairy consuming variety these days, will probably consume just a little bit. I am going to a wine and cheese shindig tomorrow at Chabad in Wicker Park, where there will be a reading of the 10 Commandments. I figure if I don't make it to shul tonight, it is at least what I can do within the community to add to my personal study. I fell off the Torah-reading wagon a few weeks ago and have not been properly set back on yet, which is why you haven't seen much in the way of d'var Torah from me. It seems to happen around this time every year, though.

At any rate, I bid you all a chag sameach -- may your homes and mouths be filled with the words of Torah and may your hearts overflow as surely our ancestors did at Sinai.

Some Lag B'onfire Photos!

My hair smells of smoke. Not cigarette smoke (ew) and definitely not bonfire smoke. Yes, I did just get home from the Lag B'onfire at the nearby Conservative shul. However, the bonfire was meager (think: more like an eternal flame), and it was the smoke coming off the gigantic (and brand new) grill, manned by the rabbi. The meat was kosher, the goods were kosher, the people were kosher (in that, you know, they were Jewish). Bada ching? Anyone? Anyhow, the "bonfire" was enough to keep us warm on this chilly Chicago evening.

So, I smell like smoke, and it's delightful. There was a good crowd out tonight -- a cross-section of Reform, Conservative and Orthodox Jews. People who I've met at all the different shuls I've been to in the past year. Old acquaintances, new acquaintances, and everything in between. There was beer, there were burgers and hot dogs and slaw and there was a band, as well.

Perhaps the coolest part of the night was the cutting of the hair! You see, if you keep the omer, you're not supposed to do a variety of things -- one of them being cutting hair. However, you *can* cut your hair on the omer. In the same vein, is this tradition (אפשערן) upsherin. The tradition has that a boy should have his hair cut on his third birthday. Now, if you're a kid whose birthday happens to fall during the omer, well, this means you have to wait until Lag B'Omer and then have the ceremonial haircutting. So tonight, we were lucky enough to have a three-year-old and yes! People took turns lobbing off the kid's beautiful head of thick, curly hair. The child seemed indifferent, which was sort of surprising, but that's what this photo is of ...

So I spent about an hour and a half mingling, took a few photos (you see, I left my 4GB card at home, and was stuck with the 16MB backup, making me have to take my photos VERY carefully), and now I'm home. So enjoy these photos.

And in case I don't end up with anything interesting to say tomorrow -- Shabbat Shalom and enjoy the long weekend (those of you in the U.S. anyhow!).