The Chicago Orthodox community has been up in arms for the past few days over an issue that started with a bang, but has gone out with a fizzle – and that’s exactly how many people hoped things would end.   A meeting set for tonight to discuss a proposal for a local shul to rent space to an Ombudsman alternative school was abruptly cancelled. Ombudsman schools educate students from ages 14-21 who dropped out of high school, but are now choosing to return to class to earn their diplomas.

The shul has been zoned to house a school for many years, and in the past, had hosted overflow from the local public elementary school until a new Chicago Public School was built nearby. Private schools have also leased space from the shul. However, last year, when a local private Jewish day school abruptly left, it was too late to retain a contract with a different school. The classrooms have remained empty for the entire school year, seriously depleting the synagogue’s budget.

Ombudsman is a private for-profit school that works with the Chicago Public School as an alternative program for drop out students who want to return for their degrees. My understanding is that an Alderman must sign off on any new Chicago Public School location. Had this been a private school with no connection to the Chicago Public School system, an Alderman’s signature would not have been necessary for the shul to rent their own space.

So much of the conversation over the possible school lease has been stifled. As I said, the informational meeting that was supposed to provide facts about the program and its effects on communities where such schools already exist was forced into cancellation. The information I have about what happened is based on rumor, innuendo, Facebook rants, community emails, and a robocall.

Breaking it down, it seems that before the shul had the chance to present the proposal to the community, another nearby shul caught wind of the plan and attempted to send out a community letter appealing to the neighbors to protest the school coming to their area. Before their letter to could be publicized, the Alderman’s office sent out its own letter giving basic information about the proposed partnership and informing people about a community meeting to discuss the issue before it would receive approval.

After the Alderman’s letter made its rounds, the community went on high alert. It became the water cooler gossip last week and throughout the weekend. I heard every excuse about why this school should not be permitted from juvenile delinquents, to graffiti, to drugs, to parking problems, to non-tznius student clothing, to increased crime, to an invasion of non-Jews of various colors and ethnicities bringing down property values.

There was also the argument that the non-Jewish neighbors didn’t want the school either, and were resentful that a synagogue had so much authority to make a decision like this that would greatly affect the community.  Essentially, the argument was that a plan that would negatively impact the surrounding neighborhood would be a chillul Hashem. Apparently, some rabbis spoke against the proposal from their pulpits on Shabbos and one rabbi even supposedly referred to “blacks invading our neighborhood.”

This robocall from a young child reading off of a script was sent to certain community members yesterday before the shul meeting was cancelled. The message is garbled but essentially says, “Save our neighborhood! I want to go outside and ride my bike without any problems or worry. Please come for a very important meeting….help stop (the shul) from bringing in an alternative high school for drop outs…I want our neighborhood to be safe, don’t you?”

I think this robocall represents the level that some people sank to in trying to dissuade the shul, the community, and the Alderman from pushing through this initiative. To use a child to spread propaganda that hinges on hinted-at racist stereotypes is low. If the school had been a place for Orthodox Jewish high school drop outs to earn their diplomas, I highly doubt such a robocall would have gone out.

I want to be clear that I have no opinion on whether or not Ombudsman would have had a positive or a negative impact on the community. I can’t have an opinion since I wasn’t given a chance to hear the facts. None of us were. My problem is the rush to judgment about a proposal involving non-Jewish students, presumably of varied races and ethnic backgrounds entering our neighborhood, even if only for a few hours a day. People had already gone into hysterics and made up their minds before the meeting.

We had the opportunity to make a kiddush Hashem with our behavior by reserving judgment until the facts were heard and not giving credence to fear mongering. Instead we believed the hype and turned into an angry mob brandishing virtual pitchforks.  We also lost a potential opportunity to both assist a local shul in financial distress as well as assist kids from the larger community trying to straighten out their lives and get an education.

Photo from Times of Israel

It’s the day after my oldest son’s high school graduation, so I’m feeling kind of mushy. Every child goes through his or her own journey from freshman year to senior year and my son was no exception. For a myriad of reasons, we made the difficult decision to send him to a smaller out of town yeshiva, close enough to come home for frequent out shabbosim, but far enough away that he would have to dorm at the school. This was an agonizing choice that we spent many sleepless nights over, but for the sake of his growth and happiness, we took a leap of faith that everything would work out for the best.

We chose his school because we had heard that it emphasizes middos and character. It’s a yeshiva that focuses not only on learning gemarah, but on living the lessons learned within its pages. The rabbaim work to develop not only the minds of their talmidim, but their hearts as well. Although my son was coming from a different hashkafic background than the majority of the other students (or so we thought), we wanted him to develop as a person, as a friend, and as a future member of klal yisrael.

I remember dropping him off that first day of school. The freshmen come a few days earlier than the upper classmen to give them time to adjust to their new surroundings. Immediately, we walked into the building to find boys playing ping pong, schmoozing on the couches in the main lobby, and generally exploring their new home away from home. Right away, my son was approached by different boys wanting to get to know him, asking if he wanted to play a game of ping pong. I could only stand back and make an effort to hold in my tears of hopefulness that he would find the friendships he so desperately desired.

My son came to the school a defeated kid. Academically, he was always a success, but socially he had experienced challenges from about sixth grade and onward. By the time he entered high school, he seemed convinced that he was unworthy of friendship or positive notice from his peers. If another child introduced himself, my son seemed poised for the punch line – the inevitable dig that would be sure to follow. His guard was up pretty high upon entering yeshiva and I only hoped that the school would help to ease his way into the freshman group.

The change my son underwent during his years in yeshiva is nothing short of miraculous. I don’t want to underestimate the effort and attention the rabbaim and teachers give to the students and all of the fires they put out. Certainly, the staff (from the office to the kitchen to the beis medrash and everything in between) was pivotal in helping my son to adapt not only to high school life, dorm life, and life with his fellow classmates. I give them a lot of credit for creating an atmosphere of camaraderie and respect among the students. However, it was the other young men who most helped my son to believe that he was likeable, that he could make friends, and that he could be a valued friend.

My son’s classmates, who we were certain would all be from haredi backgrounds, turned out to be a diverse group. There were some boys coming to the school with a very limited background in Torah learning and those coming from a very strong place. Yes, many students had different ideologies than those my son had previously been exposed to, but that didn’t stop them from all being friends. They could debate, shout, get heated in defending their positions, and then go outside for a game of football.

It was really a beautiful sight watching the graduates say farewell to each other. Some wore hats, some had already ditched theirs with the rest of their suitcases, but they were all hugging and holding back tears. The affection and respect they had for one another was plain to see. Brotherhood was a word that popped up in more than one graduation speech. While some will remain in the yeshiva’s beis medrash program and others will go on to college or Israel programs, this diverse group of kids have created friendships and good memories that will last a lifetime.

As I watched my son saying his goodbyes in a sea of talmidim, I was reminded of a conversation I’d had earlier that day with my husband. We had both gotten several emails from various Chicago synagogues and yeshivas about a citywide tehillim session for the safe return of three yeshiva boys from Gush Etzion (Gil-Ad, Naphtali, and Eyal) who were kidnapped while on their way home to spend Shabbos with family and friends.

We were struck by the diversity of the organizing institutions and marveling that when a tragedy happens, especially one involving kids, it is possible for all of the diverse groups within orthodoxy to rally and stand together for a common purpose. While I can’t imagine the suffering that these boys and their families are going through, and they should be returned to us speedily and unharmed, the unifying power they have had upon klal yisroel is a kiddush Hashem.

Our young people have the power to unite klal yisroel. I see signs of hope in my children, in their friends, and in the young activists I encounter online. It is possible to do away with the prejudices we have against how one adjusts the brim of their hat or whether one even wears a hat at all. Kids don’t care about those things – they are still capable of seeing the person behind the uniform.  We grown-ups may not have gotten it right, but I have faith that achdus can be achieved through our kids.

Miley Cyrus Before and After

Last week a robo call was sent to the Chicago orthodox community inviting women to participate in a telephone conference about hair covering -

Why Cover?  Come Discover!

The phone message promised to teach women the meaning behind the great mitzva of hair covering and the many brochos/blessings it can bring.  One of the speakers was a rebbetzin from Chicago and another from Jerusalem.  Additionally, there would be testimonials from women on how covering their hair had enhanced their lives.

I decided to call the number, which had a New York area code, and hear what these women had to say about hair covering.  Immediately, there was an advertisement for some sort of contraption that would keep headcoverings in place.  Interspersed throughout the speeches were advertisements for hair covering paraphernalia sold by stores in the New York area.

As the first speaker began, it became apparent that this wasn’t a live presentation, but a series of pre-recorded speeches and testimonials.  Very soon into the speech, the speaker quickly went into the true purpose of the conference by claiming that “long wigs do not conform to the standards of tznius set by our poskim.”  Today’s toeiva (abominable practice) isn’t in not wearing wigs, but in wearing wigs that are too long and beautiful.  She said that we only need to worry about being beautiful to Hashem and not to society.  Apparently, there is an unfortunate trend among kallahs (brides) to buy extremely long wigs, and our kallahs need to be taught that long wigs won’t bring kiddusha to their homes.

Essentially, the phone conference hoped to instigate a campaign among women to cut their wigs to an appropriate length.  The “kosher” length can vary among communities from shoulder length to chin length.  Everyone should ask their posek what the standard is in their local community.  Additionally, sheital machers (wigs stylists) were blamed for the trend in long sheitels.  Wig sellers (both Jewish and non-Jewish, but the main lambasting was saved for the non-Jewish stylists – I believe the word “goyta” was used) have been encouraging frum women to buy expensive long wigs, and also refusing to cut them shorter when requested for tznius purposes.  We were exhorted to take a stand against sheital machers selling inappropriately long wigs and refusing to cut down wigs that are too long.

There were several testimonials from women who, by shortening their wigs, were able to bring good things to themselves or others.  One woman told an inspirational story about a woman who cut her wig 3 inches shorter. Emotionally, it was very difficult for her to cut her long wig to a shorter length.  As the stylist cut the hair, she said a tefilla and immediately felt connected to Hashem.  The woman thought that perhaps her sacrifice would merit help for an unmarried friend.  As the hair fell down around her, she repeated her friend’s name again and again.  The woman cried as the wig hair was cut.  Afterwards, not only did she get tons of compliments on her shorter wig, her friend also got engaged.

Another woman took the plunge and brought all three of her wigs in to be cut shorter.  Immediately upon leaving the sheital macher, she and her husband got into a car crash.  It was a miracle that no one was hurt and there was no damage.  Surely, this miracle happened in the merit of her shorter wigs.

A different woman wanted to cut her long wig but had a bad experience asking a sheital macher to cut it.  The wig stylist couldn’t believe she wanted to shorten such a gorgeous wig and convinced her not to cut it. She saw an advertisement in a local Jewish paper by a sheital macher offering to cut wigs for free for tznius purposes. Although her heart was in the right place, she couldn’t seem to coordinate a good time for an appointment. However, the woman was determined to cut her wig. She finally found a time that worked and had two inches cut off the bottom. She thought maybe she should cut more, but didn’t want to be an ugly outcast.  She decided to throw all caution to the wind and cut off another 4 inches. She was thrilled – no other sheital macher would cut that much hair off for her. The woman was so grateful that she sent the sheital macher a beautiful shaloch manos that year.  Months later, the sheital machor saw the woman in a store and not only was she wearing her short wig, but also longer skirts.  The woman said her daughter was now more careful with tznius too.

There was another story about shortening wigs in the merit of a sick child’s refuah (recovery) from a serious illness.  The reception was bad and so I didn’t hear the details, but essentially, there was some sort of campaign for women to cut their sheitals so a young child would have a refuah and survive brain surgery.  Apparently, the child had a complete recovery due to the efforts of these women.

The conference also addressed how to approach women who wear long sheitals.  Basically, we should be dan lchaf zchus (give them the benefit of the doubt) because a woman wearing a long wig obviously has troubles in her life.  A woman gave a testimonial about a young woman she saw in a long wig.  The young woman was screaming for attention.  She decided to boost her neshama with the right words.  She complimented the color the young woman was wearing. Upon hearing the compliment, the young woman felt the need to explain that she dressed this way because her life was tumultuous.  The young woman expressed annoyance that people judged her clothing. The older woman explained that, yes, it’s terrible that people judge a person by their clothing.  That’s why the frum women want to protect her by advising her against long wigs or tight clothing…dress tznius and Hashem will help and protect.  If someone is lacking in eirlichkeit (dignity or modesty)- be kind. Compliment what she does right. Compliment her appropriate skirt length. Focus on the positive and don’t jump to judge. Only Hashem can judge.

The conference ended with a very forceful speaker that mentioned getting our husbands away from the internet and not caving into peer pressure to wear longer wigs.

To me, this entire conference was peer pressure to conform to superficial standards of piety.  I have no problem with short wigs, and have worn them myself.  However, a woman’s decision to wear a shorter style wig should be based on her personal preference, and not because other women will look at her as less tznius or a nebach (sad case) who must have a “tumultuous life.”  The program wasn’t about the brochos that are brought down on the families of women who cover their hair, but rather, on the curses that are brought down when women don’t cover their hair in an eirlichkeit manner.  To me, this phone conference is another example of how women are enforcing ever stricter chumras upon each other, and using daas Torah (the sanctioning of rabbis) as an excuse to do so.  You can’t know what is inside of a woman’s heart by what is on top of her head.

A few years ago I read about a group of women who were petitioning the Jewish volunteer emergency medical service, Hatzalah, to accept females into their organization. The Forward had an interview with the woman lawyer and EMT spearheading this effort, Rachel Freier. Freier and others created Ezras Nashim, hoping to create a women’s EMT division in the Brooklyn branch of Hatzalah, primarily to assist with emergency home child labor.

In the late 1960’s when Hatzalah was first founded, there was a short-lived women’s division called, Hatzilu. Within three months of operation, local rabbis, fearful of inappropriate relationships happening between mixed gender emergency volunteers, ordered the female division to be disbanded. Ever since that time, the rabbis and lay leadership of Hatzalah have excluded women from participating in the service, even though half of their patients are women.

The Forward article included this interview from a woman named Miriam :

“Miriam was home alone in Brooklyn’s Hasidic neighborhood of Boro Park when she birthed her second child, her water breaking unexpectedly and the baby slipping out along with it. Moments later, seven men barreled through the door. One of them took the baby, and another asked Miriam to lie down so that he could check between her legs for the placenta. Then, the technicians — members of the volunteer ambulance corps Hatzalah — whisked her away to the hospital. Even though her male neighbor had called the men in an effort to help, Miriam said the experience was “traumatizing.”

In the ultra-Orthodox world in which Miriam lives, unmarried men and women are barred from touching, let alone exposing their bodies to one another. Though the incident occurred 15 years ago, Miriam (who asked that her name be changed to protect her privacy) remembers every detail of that uncomfortable visit. In particular, she remembers wishing that women had attended to her, instead of men.

“I think that a woman who has to give birth at home should at least have the comfort of another woman at her side,” she said.”

Rachel Freier added in a Voz Iz Neias interview:

“Women who have had a baby delivered by Hatzalah are grateful to them, but they are also embarrassed and humiliated by the experience,” said Mrs. Freier.  “If they meet that EMT or Hatzala member, they will likely cross the street to avoid him.  We are all so proud of Hatzalah.  We can’t live without them.  But the voice of the women now has to be heard.”

Hatzalah refused to change its position not to accept female volunteers, and so Ezras Nashim has been established as its own organization. They will first begin serving Boro Park and hope to expand into other areas of New York and even Israel. According to Tablet magazine:

“None of the issues they’ve faced have been enough to deter Freier or her dedicated crew of nearly 50 volunteers. In fact, they went above and beyond, with each EMT attending additional training sessions at two local hospitals, where they shadowed doctors on the emergency and obstetrics wards, and obtaining certification in neo-natal resuscitation, which requires extra hours of instruction. New recruits are signing up every day, with 10 or so currently enrolled in courses. The EMTs will at first be answering calls related to childbirth but plan to expand their focus as they solidify their practice.”

What’s interesting to me is that, aside from the usual critics who don’t feel that women are capable of responding to medical emergencies and that Ezras Nashim is taking precious financial donations and resources from the already established Hatzalah, there are those who feel that Ezras Nashim is anything but a female empowering endeavor. People have critiqued the service for promoting a hyper-tznius agenda which further separates the sexes, and could be creating a new chumra that will stop women from accepting medical treatment from men or stop men from offering medical treatment to women.

My opinion on the matter is that I think that frum female EMTs are long overdue in our communities. I think that the Hatzalah organization should be ashamed of itself for refusing to let women into their corps. Having a separate Ezras Nashim should never have had to happen – it should have been a division of the already established Hatzalah all along from the beginning. Since Hatzalah has stubbornly refused to let women into its volunteer EMT organization, forming Ezras Nashim is a necessity.

Ezras Nashim will give women more control over their care in vulnerable situations. I think it’s a terrible breach of tznius to have familiar men caring for a woman in labor who they know – especially when there have been women asking to take over this role and were told no. There is such a big difference between having a male doctor and male volunteer EMT from your neighborhood treating you. Most people I know don’t have a relationship with their OB/GYN outside of professional visits. Plus, a male OB/GYN has seen hundreds/thousands of deliveries and done hundreds/thousands of intimate exams. After awhile they become desensitized and it’s strictly professional. Doctors undergo sensitivity training in medical school on treating the opposite sex. They are graded by volunteer patients to see how they perform in this area.

Being treated and seen for an intimate exam by someone with a BLS or ALS license who you see at shul, the grocery store, parent/teacher conferences, simchas – someone who you only know socially – is quite different than being seen by a physician with whom you only have a professional relationship.

I think the critique about Ezras Nashim being a feminist step backward has to do with the emphasis on only providing labor and delivery services. In reality, these women are getting the same certification that Hatzalah members have and can treat emergencies of any nature. My opinion is that I think they are kowtowing to rabbis and those accusing them of being feminist upstarts by stressing the childbirth/doula angle. Eventually, they will incorporate all emergency services into their repertoire. I agree that it’s a waste that the women of Ezras Nashim had to recreate the wheel, but that wasn’t their choice.

I think it’s hypocritical for people to argue that the men of Hatzalah are professional and unfazed when seeing an unclothed woman they know, but women would not show the same level of professionalism when treating a man they know. How is it pikuach nefesh when a man touches and treats an unrelated woman, but a woman touching and treating a male patient would not get the same dispensation? I thought women were supposed to be on a “higher level” regarding sexual temptation? Men and women work side by side for many hours in stressful jobs every day. I don’t see how volunteer EMTs would be any more likely to develop inappropriate relationships than in most other professional work settings.

Women have a lot to offer to community emergency health services, not just as dispatchers or secretaries, but also as active EMTs and paramedics. To that end, I am very proud of these women and their determination and dedication.

Shabbos and particularly two or three day yom tovim, sometimes bring with them a certain anxiety for married women. Will she have to use the mikva during this time when she must walk to her destination, is limited in bathing/hygiene/beauty preparations before or after her dunk, and must be noticeably absent or late to family dinners? Additionally, if a couple is a guest at someone’s home for Shabbos or holidays, it’s often difficult to get away discreetly for this purpose and/or intimacy is not even an option due to guest accommodations (e.g. sharing small rooms with children, no locks on doors, sleeping in someone else’s bedroom who may pop in to get a spare pair of undies).

A shaila and answer from Nishmat about postponing mikva on the first night of Shavuos prompted an interesting Facebook conversation. The psak given by the yoetzet was that the woman should go in order to release the limitations of the harchakot and allow for other forms of physical contact besides intimacy (the couple would be staying with family and sharing a room with their children, so it wouldn’t be a romantic post-mikva reunion).

The conversation revolved around postponing mikva night due to inconvenience. It’s no easy feat to get to the mikva on the second seder night, or on the night of your daughter’s wedding, or when your husband is out of town for the next two weeks and you are on your own with the kids. Also, if you have a big simcha on Shabbos, such as a bar mitzvah, a woman will often apply cosmetics that will hopefully last until Shabbos day for the big event. If you go to the mikva on Friday night, you can’t reapply your makeup again. It might seem superficial or trivial, but there are women who wouldn’t go to the grocery store without their makeup on, much less greet hundreds of guests at a simcha with no makeup. It seems there are two main camps on the issue of postponing mikva. Once camp says it’s assur to delay immersion and another camp says it’s muttar as long as both husband and wife agree to the delay.

Some women feel that in a system where their sex lives are pre-regulated in terms of when they are allowed to be with their husbands, controlling when they go to the mikva is a form of empowerment. Why should they have a rushed, stressed, or uncomfortable experience on an inconvenient night, when the next night will be much calmer? Other women feel that it’s a halachic mandate to get to the mikva on the earliest permitted evening and that inconvenient timing should not be a factor when your mikva night rolls around.

In a larger community, it’s easy to get away with making your own schedule. With many mikvaot and rotations of many mikva ladies, the only people keeping track of your mikva attendance is you and your husband. In smaller towns where there is only one mikva and possibly only one mikva lady, some have been known to make comments such as “I haven’t seen you recently,” indicating that someone outside of the couple’s marriage is privy to their mikva schedule. However, small towns aside, mikva calendars are personal and no one will know if a woman has gone to the mikva on her “correct” day or not.

I don’t know how often women take scheduling their mikva night into their own hands, but I do know that motzei yom tov and motzei Shabbos are very busy mikva nights. It could be coincidence or it could be because many women who would otherwise have had to go on Friday night or yom tov night have pushed it off. In any event, I think postponing mikva, as long as the husband and wife both agree, should be a personal choice. Although there are good reasons for not postponing (trying to conceive, marital discord, and various kabbalistic reasons), going to the mikva and feeling anxious or resentful about it isn’t good for marital harmony either.

I received a phone call from a reader the other week regarding my post on middle aged women suffering from eating disorders. The caller was a long married gentleman with a large family. While he in no way agreed with using unhealthy methods to lose weight, he said that based on his own observations, it’s much more likely to see frum people indulging in double portions of food, than abstaining from even a single portion.

This husband takes great pride in his wife’s youthful and trim appearance. He enjoys the fact that people mistake his wife for their daughter’s sister and that people always guess a few decades younger when trying to determine her age. In his opinion, people tend to let themselves go after marriage much more often than they become obsessive about fitness, weight, and improving their overall appearance.

With society’s current awareness of the devastating effects of eating disorders, as well as feminist outrage at women being objectified for their physical appearance, men are afraid to admit that they want attractive wives. We decry a shidduch system that imposes harsh requirements for women to be skinny and beautiful, yet at the same time, we admit that attraction must exist between marriage partners in order for the relationship to be successful.

There is a flip side to those folks who focus on their appearance in an extreme way (strict dieting, constant exercise, cosmetic procedures, expensive potions/lotions/makeup, trendy clothing). The other side of things is the stereotype of the rotund balebusta forever serving up potato kugel and kichelach to her portly husband, pasty skinned and soft from sitting behind a desk or a shtender all day – certainly not an image that would grace the cover of a romance novel. Fitness and beauty are for goyim.

The reality is that both men and women want attractive partners. Because of the taboo of married women attracting attention from other men, frum husbands can’t openly say they want a “trophy wife.” However, most men want a wife who makes them proud from a physical standpoint. Having a pretty wife is a status symbol of sorts. Who wants to be with someone that no one else will have? Many men are visual creatures and appreciate a pleasing appearance. Many men are also competitive on a variety of levels. Who their wife is, and more specifically, what she looks like, is included in that competition. Some men feel proud when they sense that other men are jealous of their wives.

This attitude is spoken of more openly in secular circles, because attraction and sexuality are more openly acknowledged. In frum circles, it’s not modest to talk of such things. Additionally, adultery is such a big taboo that a man complimenting or openly leering at a married woman would be harshly condemned.  It’s also considered frivolous to focus too much on physical appearance when marriage is supposed to be based on a love much deeper than the surface (which doesn’t at all correlate with the incessant focus on appearance before marriage in the shidduch scene). Therefore, we don’t talk about what happens when we lose attraction for our spouse, when we sense no one else finds them attractive either, or when we no longer find ourselves attractive after years of cholent, babies (sympathetic pregnancies and weight gain for men – hey, it’s a real thing!), and slowing metabolisms.

I know a couple who made a promise to each other, an informal prenuptial agreement of sorts, not to let themselves go appearance wise. They stuck to that promise to the best of their abilities. The reader who called me wanted to stress the importance of attraction in a marriage, and how detrimental it can be to downplay its importance. What makes a successful marriage, after all? Really, it isn’t the number of years a couple is married, but the number of years a couple is happily married. Sustained attraction is a key ingredient for happiness. Without it, a couple might have a marriage, but not a successful one.

Photo of Mount Sinai from ynetnews.com

I’ve been thinking about Shavuos and how Matan Torah established the Jewish people as one nation with our promise of “na’aseh v’nishma” or “we will do, and we will hear” Hashem’s commandments. Looking at the Jewish people of the 21^st century, it’s impossible to see ourselves as one nation. Even among Orthodox Jews, the factions have become so splintered; we are turning against each other. Jews of any other denomination aren’t acknowledged at all, and if they are, only in the most derogatory and dismissive terms. In the words of President Abraham Lincoln, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”

Growing up, all of the synagogue services I attended were Traditional, Conservative, or Reform. Never once did I hear a rabbi speak ill of Jews of different denominations. It was only after I began attending Orthodox services that I ever heard a rabbi speak with derision and scorn about Jews of different denominations. I made a point of seeking out an Orthodox shul whose rabbi did not disparage other Jews from the pulpit.

On a similar note, in the community I belong to, I’ve noticed a disturbing trend among some parents and school administrators. The families who attend the “other schools” are looked down upon.

“I wouldn’t send my son there because the boys play with action figures and watch TV.”

“Have you seen the short uniform skirts the girls wear? Well, it’s no surprise. Have you seen what the mothers wear?”

“That’s the school you send your kids to if you want them to be brainwashed.”

It’s nice to have various schools to choose from. Some schools are a better hashkafic match for a family than others. Maybe there are personal relationships with teachers or administrators that sway a family toward one school or another. Perhaps the academic curriculum or educational philosophy is more appealing at one school over the other.  With so many valid reasons for picking a school, why must we justify our decision by putting down the Jews who go to the “other school?”

I believe that this attitude is a trickle-down effect from the top. Just the other week at the Agudah convention, a leading rabbi condemned Reform, Conservative, and Open Orthodox movements, saying that they:

“…were among those who “subvert and destroy the eternal values of our people.” These movements, he said, “have disintegrated themselves, become oblivious, fallen into an abyss of intermarriage and assimilation.”

“They will be relegated,” he added, “to the dustbins of Jewish history.”

It’s a shame that some Orthodox Jews have to put down others to promote their own ideals. If adherents to a certain Orthodox hashkafah believe that theirs is the only true derech, there is no need to disparage other groups. Lead by example and love, and that truth will have a better chance of spreading among the Jewish people, reconnecting us back into one nation.

I wish you all a Chag Sameach!

My daughter has been told many times at school that talking to boys is assur. Certainly, a girl should never initiate a conversation, but even if a boy initiates a “hello” or a “good Shabbos,” the best response is to ignore him and not return the greeting. If the boy is a distant relative or his family is close friends with the girl’s family and not responding would be rude, the girl might have to accede to a brief and grudging “hello” for the sake of politeness.

Recently, my daughter has been told something new. Talking to boys is the gateway to gehennom. Boys are demons waiting to lure unsuspecting girls to the fiery gates of hell. I’d always suspected that my husband and sons were the devil’s spawn, and so naturally, I asked my daughter how this would play out at home. Was she no longer permitted to speak to her father and brothers?

My daughter assured me that her father and brothers were not included in this category. It was perfectly fine for her to speak with them. Of course, that got me wondering whether or not I should send out some sort of announcement letting the other women and girls in my community know that my husband and sons were the only safe males with whom they were permitted to speak. That it’s only their husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons who are the demon spawn.

Upon further investigation, it turns out that it’s only safe for me and my daughter to speak to my husband and sons. It’s not safe for any other females to speak with them. Apparently, a male is only safe around the females in his own immediate family, but he turns into an uncontrollable devil among unrelated females. Of course, this does make me eye the men in my life with suspicion. After all, what if one day they confuse me for a woman unrelated to them? Is it safe to live under the same roof with such volatile creatures?

The important thing is that the first step in awareness has been taken. Information is power. When a man says hello to you, keep walking. It also couldn’t hurt to spit three times to ward off the dybbuk, “Pthui, pthui, pthui!”

I’ve been pondering the concept of mandated mourning. After a parent dies, a child is required to mourn their loss for the 12 months following the death. This means refraining from participation in joyous occasions, celebrations, and public entertainment venues where people go to enjoy themselves.

I’ve been an avel since the end of last August, so I am in the final home stretch of aveilus. Of course, this also means that I’ll be missing this summer’s blockbuster movies, in all probability 4th of July fireworks (haven’t asked a shaila yet), Ravinia’s “under the stars” outdoor music concerts, this year’s Jewish Folk Arts festival which features live bands, to name but a few activities.

Basically, anytime someone brings up something fun to do, I have to pause and wonder if I will be allowed to attend. Even if there is some wiggle room for me to participate, there’s that sense of nagging Jewish guilt that pops up scolding me for trying to find a loophole to absolve myself of my responsibility. Personally, I’ve felt that I am honoring the laws of aveilus strictly for kibbud av v’eim (honoring your father and mother), and not so much for my own private grief. While I am saddened at the loss of my mother at a young age, since I never knew her, my grief is of a different nature.

Although this is not my situation, my feelings of growing impatience with the restrictions of aveilus as the year wears on have made me wonder how children of abusive parents feel during this time. If you are ambivalent, or perhaps even grateful for the death of your parent, how difficult must it be to refrain from all happy activities out of respect for their memory? In such a scenario when a child might be feeling relief, and possibly even joy at finally being free of a toxic parent, they are told that they must express the appropriate sadness instead of celebrating. Additionally, this outward display of sadness must continue not only for the week or thirty days following their parent’s death, but for an entire year. It’s not an easy undertaking.

I said to my husband the other day that I feel like I have nothing to look forward to. I’ve been perplexed at my state of melancholy lately, especially as the weather warms to my favorite season of summer when I am usually the most cheerful. It occurred to me, as my husband mentioned the folk arts festival happening today, that my malaise has a lot to do with my limitations during aveilus.

Thankfully, the restrictions of aveilus are temporary and there is an end in sight. However, I have to wonder at a mandated mourning system generalized for every type of mourner. The ways in which people mourn are as diverse as the mourners themselves and the relationships they had with their departed loved ones. While being excused from joyous occasions might be a welcome “time out” early in the mourning period, that time out might be unwelcome as time goes by and the mourner begins to feel isolated. Sometimes attending a show, dancing at a wedding, or socializing at a party is just what is needed to raise a mourner’s spirits. My hope is that those of you reading this post never have to consider my musings from a first hand perspective.

The Chicago Orthodox community has been up in arms for the past few days over an issue that started with a bang, but has gone out with a fizzle – and that’s exactly how many people hoped things would end.   A meeting set for tonight to discuss a proposal for a local shul to rent space to an Ombudsman alternative school was abruptly cancelled. Ombudsman schools educate students from ages 14-21 who dropped out of high school, but are now choosing to return to class to earn their diplomas.

The shul has been zoned to house a school for many years, and in the past, had hosted overflow from the local public elementary school until a new Chicago Public School was built nearby. Private schools have also leased space from the shul. However, last year, when a local private Jewish day school abruptly left, it was too late to retain a contract with a different school. The classrooms have remained empty for the entire school year, seriously depleting the synagogue’s budget.

Ombudsman is a private for-profit school that works with the Chicago Public School as an alternative program for drop out students who want to return for their degrees. My understanding is that an Alderman must sign off on any new Chicago Public School location. Had this been a private school with no connection to the Chicago Public School system, an Alderman’s signature would not have been necessary for the shul to rent their own space.

So much of the conversation over the possible school lease has been stifled. As I said, the informational meeting that was supposed to provide facts about the program and its effects on communities where such schools already exist was forced into cancellation. The information I have about what happened is based on rumor, innuendo, Facebook rants, community emails, and a robocall.

Breaking it down, it seems that before the shul had the chance to present the proposal to the community, another nearby shul caught wind of the plan and attempted to send out a community letter appealing to the neighbors to protest the school coming to their area. Before their letter could be publicized, the Alderman’s office sent out its own letter giving basic information about the proposed partnership and informing people about a community meeting to discuss the issue before a decision would be rendered.

After the Alderman’s letter made its rounds, the community went on high alert. It became the water cooler gossip last week and throughout the weekend. I heard every excuse about why this school should not be permitted from juvenile delinquents, to graffiti, to drugs, to parking problems, to non-tznius student clothing, to increased crime, to an invasion of non-Jews of various colors and ethnicities bringing down property values.

There was also the argument that the non-Jewish neighbors didn’t want the school either, and were resentful that a synagogue had so much authority to make a decision like this that would greatly affect the community.  Essentially, the argument was that a plan that would negatively impact the surrounding neighborhood would be a chillul Hashem. Apparently, some rabbis spoke against the proposal from their pulpits on Shabbos and one rabbi even supposedly referred to “blacks invading our neighborhood.”

This robocall from a young child reading off of a script was sent to certain community members yesterday before the shul meeting was cancelled. The message is garbled but essentially says, “Save our neighborhood! I want to go outside and ride my bike without any problems or worry. Please come for a very important meeting….help stop (the shul) from bringing in an alternative high school for drop outs…I want our neighborhood to be safe, don’t you?”

I think this robocall represents the level that some people sank to in trying to dissuade the shul, the community, and the Alderman from pushing through this initiative. To use a child to spread propaganda that hinges on hinted-at racist stereotypes is low. If the school had been a place for Orthodox Jewish high school drop outs to earn their diplomas, I highly doubt such a robocall would have gone out.

I want to be clear that I have no opinion on whether or not Ombudsman would have had a positive or a negative impact on the community. I can’t have an opinion since I wasn’t given a chance to hear the facts. None of us were. My problem is the rush to judgment about a proposal involving non-Jewish students, presumably of varied races and ethnic backgrounds entering our neighborhood, even if only for a few hours a day. People had already gone into hysterics and made up their minds before the meeting.

We had the opportunity to make a kiddush Hashem with our behavior by reserving judgment until the facts were heard and not giving credence to fear mongering. Instead we believed the hype and turned into an angry mob brandishing virtual pitchforks.  We also lost a potential opportunity to both assist a local shul in financial distress as well as assist kids from the larger community trying to straighten out their lives and get an education.

Photo from Times of Israel

It’s the day after my oldest son’s high school graduation, so I’m feeling kind of mushy. Every child goes through his or her own journey from freshman year to senior year and my son was no exception. For a myriad of reasons, we made the difficult decision to send him to a smaller out of town yeshiva, close enough to come home for frequent out shabbosim, but far enough away that he would have to dorm at the school. This was an agonizing choice that we spent many sleepless nights over, but for the sake of his growth and happiness, we took a leap of faith that everything would work out for the best.

We chose his school because we had heard that it emphasizes middos and character. It’s a yeshiva that focuses not only on learning gemarah, but on living the lessons learned within its pages. The rabbaim work to develop not only the minds of their talmidim, but their hearts as well. Although my son was coming from a different hashkafic background than the majority of the other students (or so we thought), we wanted him to develop as a person, as a friend, and as a future member of klal yisrael.

I remember dropping him off that first day of school. The freshmen come a few days earlier than the upper classmen to give them time to adjust to their new surroundings. Immediately, we walked into the building to find boys playing ping pong, schmoozing on the couches in the main lobby, and generally exploring their new home away from home. Right away, my son was approached by different boys wanting to get to know him, asking if he wanted to play a game of ping pong. I could only stand back and make an effort to hold in my tears of hopefulness that he would find the friendships he so desperately desired.

My son came to the school a defeated kid. Academically, he was always a success, but socially he had experienced challenges from about sixth grade and onward. By the time he entered high school, he seemed convinced that he was unworthy of friendship or positive notice from his peers. If another child introduced himself, my son seemed poised for the punch line – the inevitable dig that would be sure to follow. His guard was up pretty high upon entering yeshiva and I only hoped that the school would help to ease his way into the freshman group.

The change my son underwent during his years in yeshiva is nothing short of miraculous. I don’t want to underestimate the effort and attention the rabbaim and teachers give to the students and all of the fires they put out. Certainly, the staff (from the office to the kitchen to the beis medrash and everything in between) was pivotal in helping my son adapt to high school life, dorm life, and life with his fellow classmates. I give them a lot of credit for creating an atmosphere of camaraderie and respect among the students. However, it was the other young men who most helped my son to believe that he was likeable, that he could make friends, and that he could be a valued friend in return.

My son’s classmates, who we were certain would all be from haredi backgrounds, turned out to be a diverse group. There were some boys coming to the school with a very limited background in Torah learning and those coming from a very strong place. Yes, many students had different ideologies than those my son had previously been exposed to, but that didn’t stop them from all being friends. They could debate, shout, get heated in defending their positions, and then go outside for a game of football.

It was really a beautiful sight watching the graduates say farewell to each other. Some wore hats, some had already ditched theirs with the rest of their suitcases, but they were all hugging and holding back tears. The affection and respect they had for one another was plain to see. Brotherhood was a word that popped up in more than one graduation speech. While some will remain in the yeshiva’s beis medrash program and others will go on to college or Israel programs, this diverse group of kids have created friendships and good memories that will last a lifetime.

As I watched my son saying his goodbyes in a sea of talmidim, I was reminded of a conversation I’d had earlier that day with my husband. We had both gotten several emails from various Chicago synagogues and yeshivas about a citywide tehillim session for the safe return of three yeshiva boys from Gush Etzion (Gil-Ad, Naphtali, and Eyal) who were kidnapped while on their way home to spend Shabbos with family and friends.

We were struck by the diversity of the organizing institutions and marveling that when a tragedy happens, especially one involving kids, it is possible for all of the diverse groups within orthodoxy to rally and stand together for a common purpose. While I can’t imagine the suffering that these boys and their families are going through, and they should be returned to us speedily and unharmed, the unifying power they have had upon klal yisroel is a kiddush Hashem.

Our young people have the power to unite klal yisroel. I see signs of hope in my children, in their friends, and in the young activists I encounter online. It is possible to do away with the prejudices we have against how one adjusts the brim of their hat or whether one even wears a hat at all. Kids don’t care about those things – they are still capable of seeing the person behind the uniform.  We grown-ups may not have gotten it right, but I have faith that achdus can be achieved through our kids.

Miley Cyrus Before and After

Last week a robo call was sent to the Chicago orthodox community inviting women to participate in a telephone conference about hair covering -

Why Cover?  Come Discover!

The phone message promised to teach women the meaning behind the great mitzva of hair covering and the many brochos/blessings it can bring.  One of the speakers was a rebbetzin from Chicago and another from Jerusalem.  Additionally, there would be testimonials from women on how covering their hair had enhanced their lives.

I decided to call the number, which had a New York area code, and hear what these women had to say about hair covering.  Immediately, there was an advertisement for some sort of contraption that would keep headcoverings in place.  Interspersed throughout the speeches were advertisements for hair covering paraphernalia sold by stores in the New York area.

As the first speaker began, it became apparent that this wasn’t a live presentation, but a series of pre-recorded speeches and testimonials.  Very soon into the speech, the speaker quickly went into the true purpose of the conference by claiming that “long wigs do not conform to the standards of tznius set by our poskim.”  Today’s toeiva (abominable practice) isn’t in not wearing wigs, but in wearing wigs that are too long and beautiful.  She said that we only need to worry about being beautiful to Hashem and not to society.  Apparently, there is an unfortunate trend among kallahs (brides) to buy extremely long wigs, and our kallahs need to be taught that long wigs won’t bring kiddusha to their homes.

Essentially, the phone conference hoped to instigate a campaign among women to cut their wigs to an appropriate length.  The “kosher” length can vary among communities from shoulder length to chin length.  Everyone should ask their posek what the standard is in their local community.  Additionally, sheital machers (wigs stylists) were blamed for the trend in long sheitels.  Wig sellers (both Jewish and non-Jewish, but the main lambasting was saved for the non-Jewish stylists – I believe the word “goyta” was used) have been encouraging frum women to buy expensive long wigs, and also refusing to cut them shorter when requested for tznius purposes.  We were exhorted to take a stand against sheital machers selling inappropriately long wigs and refusing to cut down wigs that are too long.

There were several testimonials from women who, by shortening their wigs, were able to bring good things to themselves or others.  One woman told an inspirational story about a woman who cut her wig 3 inches shorter. Emotionally, it was very difficult for her to cut her long wig to a shorter length.  As the stylist cut the hair, she said a tefilla and immediately felt connected to Hashem.  The woman thought that perhaps her sacrifice would merit help for an unmarried friend.  As the hair fell down around her, she repeated her friend’s name again and again.  The woman cried as the wig hair was cut.  Afterwards, not only did she get tons of compliments on her shorter wig, her friend also got engaged.

Another woman took the plunge and brought all three of her wigs in to be cut shorter.  Immediately upon leaving the sheital macher, she and her husband got into a car crash.  It was a miracle that no one was hurt and there was no damage.  Surely, this miracle happened in the merit of her shorter wigs.

A different woman wanted to cut her long wig but had a bad experience asking a sheital macher to cut it.  The wig stylist couldn’t believe she wanted to shorten such a gorgeous wig and convinced her not to cut it. She saw an advertisement in a local Jewish paper by a sheital macher offering to cut wigs for free for tznius purposes. Although her heart was in the right place, she couldn’t seem to coordinate a good time for an appointment. However, the woman was determined to cut her wig. She finally found a time that worked and had two inches cut off the bottom. She thought maybe she should cut more, but didn’t want to be an ugly outcast.  She decided to throw all caution to the wind and cut off another 4 inches. She was thrilled – no other sheital macher would cut that much hair off for her. The woman was so grateful that she sent the sheital macher a beautiful shaloch manos that year.  Months later, the sheital machor saw the woman in a store and not only was she wearing her short wig, but also longer skirts.  The woman said her daughter was now more careful with tznius too.

There was another story about shortening wigs in the merit of a sick child’s refuah (recovery) from a serious illness.  The reception was bad and so I didn’t hear the details, but essentially, there was some sort of campaign for women to cut their sheitals so a young child would have a refuah and survive brain surgery.  Apparently, the child had a complete recovery due to the efforts of these women.

The conference also addressed how to approach women who wear long sheitals.  Basically, we should be dan lchaf zchus (give them the benefit of the doubt) because a woman wearing a long wig obviously has troubles in her life.  A woman gave a testimonial about a young woman she saw in a long wig.  The young woman was screaming for attention.  She decided to boost her neshama with the right words.  She complimented the color the young woman was wearing. Upon hearing the compliment, the young woman felt the need to explain that she dressed this way because her life was tumultuous.  The young woman expressed annoyance that people judged her clothing. The older woman explained that, yes, it’s terrible that people judge a person by their clothing.  That’s why the frum women want to protect her by advising her against long wigs or tight clothing…dress tznius and Hashem will help and protect.  If someone is lacking in eirlichkeit (dignity or modesty)- be kind. Compliment what she does right. Compliment her appropriate skirt length. Focus on the positive and don’t jump to judge. Only Hashem can judge.

The conference ended with a very forceful speaker that mentioned getting our husbands away from the internet and not caving into peer pressure to wear longer wigs.

To me, this entire conference was peer pressure to conform to superficial standards of piety.  I have no problem with short wigs, and have worn them myself.  However, a woman’s decision to wear a shorter style wig should be based on her personal preference, and not because other women will look at her as less tznius or a nebach (sad case) who must have a “tumultuous life.”  The program wasn’t about the brochos that are brought down on the families of women who cover their hair, but rather, on the curses that are brought down when women don’t cover their hair in an eirlichkeit manner.  To me, this phone conference is another example of how women are enforcing ever stricter chumras upon each other, and using daas Torah (the sanctioning of rabbis) as an excuse to do so.  You can’t know what is inside of a woman’s heart by what is on top of her head.

A few years ago I read about a group of women who were petitioning the Jewish volunteer emergency medical service, Hatzalah, to accept females into their organization. The Forward had an interview with the woman lawyer and EMT spearheading this effort, Rachel Freier. Freier and others created Ezras Nashim, hoping to create a women’s EMT division in the Brooklyn branch of Hatzalah, primarily to assist with emergency home child labor.

In the late 1960’s when Hatzalah was first founded, there was a short-lived women’s division called, Hatzilu. Within three months of operation, local rabbis, fearful of inappropriate relationships happening between mixed gender emergency volunteers, ordered the female division to be disbanded. Ever since that time, the rabbis and lay leadership of Hatzalah have excluded women from participating in the service, even though half of their patients are women.

The Forward article included this interview from a woman named Miriam :

“Miriam was home alone in Brooklyn’s Hasidic neighborhood of Boro Park when she birthed her second child, her water breaking unexpectedly and the baby slipping out along with it. Moments later, seven men barreled through the door. One of them took the baby, and another asked Miriam to lie down so that he could check between her legs for the placenta. Then, the technicians — members of the volunteer ambulance corps Hatzalah — whisked her away to the hospital. Even though her male neighbor had called the men in an effort to help, Miriam said the experience was “traumatizing.”

In the ultra-Orthodox world in which Miriam lives, unmarried men and women are barred from touching, let alone exposing their bodies to one another. Though the incident occurred 15 years ago, Miriam (who asked that her name be changed to protect her privacy) remembers every detail of that uncomfortable visit. In particular, she remembers wishing that women had attended to her, instead of men.

“I think that a woman who has to give birth at home should at least have the comfort of another woman at her side,” she said.”

Rachel Freier added in a Voz Iz Neias interview:

“Women who have had a baby delivered by Hatzalah are grateful to them, but they are also embarrassed and humiliated by the experience,” said Mrs. Freier.  “If they meet that EMT or Hatzala member, they will likely cross the street to avoid him.  We are all so proud of Hatzalah.  We can’t live without them.  But the voice of the women now has to be heard.”

Hatzalah refused to change its position not to accept female volunteers, and so Ezras Nashim has been established as its own organization. They will first begin serving Boro Park and hope to expand into other areas of New York and even Israel. According to Tablet magazine:

“None of the issues they’ve faced have been enough to deter Freier or her dedicated crew of nearly 50 volunteers. In fact, they went above and beyond, with each EMT attending additional training sessions at two local hospitals, where they shadowed doctors on the emergency and obstetrics wards, and obtaining certification in neo-natal resuscitation, which requires extra hours of instruction. New recruits are signing up every day, with 10 or so currently enrolled in courses. The EMTs will at first be answering calls related to childbirth but plan to expand their focus as they solidify their practice.”

What’s interesting to me is that, aside from the usual critics who don’t feel that women are capable of responding to medical emergencies and that Ezras Nashim is taking precious financial donations and resources from the already established Hatzalah, there are those who feel that Ezras Nashim is anything but a female empowering endeavor. People have critiqued the service for promoting a hyper-tznius agenda which further separates the sexes, and could be creating a new chumra that will stop women from accepting medical treatment from men or stop men from offering medical treatment to women.

My opinion on the matter is that I think that frum female EMTs are long overdue in our communities. I think that the Hatzalah organization should be ashamed of itself for refusing to let women into their corps. Having a separate Ezras Nashim should never have had to happen – it should have been a division of the already established Hatzalah all along from the beginning. Since Hatzalah has stubbornly refused to let women into its volunteer EMT organization, forming Ezras Nashim is a necessity.

Ezras Nashim will give women more control over their care in vulnerable situations. I think it’s a terrible breach of tznius to have familiar men caring for a woman in labor who they know – especially when there have been women asking to take over this role and were told no. There is such a big difference between having a male doctor and male volunteer EMT from your neighborhood treating you. Most people I know don’t have a relationship with their OB/GYN outside of professional visits. Plus, a male OB/GYN has seen hundreds/thousands of deliveries and done hundreds/thousands of intimate exams. After awhile they become desensitized and it’s strictly professional. Doctors undergo sensitivity training in medical school on treating the opposite sex. They are graded by volunteer patients to see how they perform in this area.

Being treated and seen for an intimate exam by someone with a BLS or ALS license who you see at shul, the grocery store, parent/teacher conferences, simchas – someone who you only know socially – is quite different than being seen by a physician with whom you only have a professional relationship.

I think the critique about Ezras Nashim being a feminist step backward has to do with the emphasis on only providing labor and delivery services. In reality, these women are getting the same certification that Hatzalah members have and can treat emergencies of any nature. My opinion is that I think they are kowtowing to rabbis and those accusing them of being feminist upstarts by stressing the childbirth/doula angle. Eventually, they will incorporate all emergency services into their repertoire. I agree that it’s a waste that the women of Ezras Nashim had to recreate the wheel, but that wasn’t their choice.

I think it’s hypocritical for people to argue that the men of Hatzalah are professional and unfazed when seeing an unclothed woman they know, but women would not show the same level of professionalism when treating a man they know. How is it pikuach nefesh when a man touches and treats an unrelated woman, but a woman touching and treating a male patient would not get the same dispensation? I thought women were supposed to be on a “higher level” regarding sexual temptation? Men and women work side by side for many hours in stressful jobs every day. I don’t see how volunteer EMTs would be any more likely to develop inappropriate relationships than in most other professional work settings.

Women have a lot to offer to community emergency health services, not just as dispatchers or secretaries, but also as active EMTs and paramedics. To that end, I am very proud of these women and their determination and dedication.

Shabbos and particularly two or three day yom tovim, sometimes bring with them a certain anxiety for married women. Will she have to use the mikva during this time when she must walk to her destination, is limited in bathing/hygiene/beauty preparations before or after her dunk, and must be noticeably absent or late to family dinners? Additionally, if a couple is a guest at someone’s home for Shabbos or holidays, it’s often difficult to get away discreetly for this purpose and/or intimacy is not even an option due to guest accommodations (e.g. sharing small rooms with children, no locks on doors, sleeping in someone else’s bedroom who may pop in to get a spare pair of undies).

A shaila and answer from Nishmat about postponing mikva on the first night of Shavuos prompted an interesting Facebook conversation. The psak given by the yoetzet was that the woman should go in order to release the limitations of the harchakot and allow for other forms of physical contact besides intimacy (the couple would be staying with family and sharing a room with their children, so it wouldn’t be a romantic post-mikva reunion).

The conversation revolved around postponing mikva night due to inconvenience. It’s no easy feat to get to the mikva on the second seder night, or on the night of your daughter’s wedding, or when your husband is out of town for the next two weeks and you are on your own with the kids. Also, if you have a big simcha on Shabbos, such as a bar mitzvah, a woman will often apply cosmetics that will hopefully last until Shabbos day for the big event. If you go to the mikva on Friday night, you can’t reapply your makeup again. It might seem superficial or trivial, but there are women who wouldn’t go to the grocery store without their makeup on, much less greet hundreds of guests at a simcha with no makeup. It seems there are two main camps on the issue of postponing mikva. Once camp says it’s assur to delay immersion and another camp says it’s muttar as long as both husband and wife agree to the delay.

Some women feel that in a system where their sex lives are pre-regulated in terms of when they are allowed to be with their husbands, controlling when they go to the mikva is a form of empowerment. Why should they have a rushed, stressed, or uncomfortable experience on an inconvenient night, when the next night will be much calmer? Other women feel that it’s a halachic mandate to get to the mikva on the earliest permitted evening and that inconvenient timing should not be a factor when your mikva night rolls around.

In a larger community, it’s easy to get away with making your own schedule. With many mikvaot and rotations of many mikva ladies, the only people keeping track of your mikva attendance is you and your husband. In smaller towns where there is only one mikva and possibly only one mikva lady, some have been known to make comments such as “I haven’t seen you recently,” indicating that someone outside of the couple’s marriage is privy to their mikva schedule. However, small towns aside, mikva calendars are personal and no one will know if a woman has gone to the mikva on her “correct” day or not.

I don’t know how often women take scheduling their mikva night into their own hands, but I do know that motzei yom tov and motzei Shabbos are very busy mikva nights. It could be coincidence or it could be because many women who would otherwise have had to go on Friday night or yom tov night have pushed it off. In any event, I think postponing mikva, as long as the husband and wife both agree, should be a personal choice. Although there are good reasons for not postponing (trying to conceive, marital discord, and various kabbalistic reasons), going to the mikva and feeling anxious or resentful about it isn’t good for marital harmony either.

I received a phone call from a reader the other week regarding my post on middle aged women suffering from eating disorders. The caller was a long married gentleman with a large family. While he in no way agreed with using unhealthy methods to lose weight, he said that based on his own observations, it’s much more likely to see frum people indulging in double portions of food, than abstaining from even a single portion.

This husband takes great pride in his wife’s youthful and trim appearance. He enjoys the fact that people mistake his wife for their daughter’s sister and that people always guess a few decades younger when trying to determine her age. In his opinion, people tend to let themselves go after marriage much more often than they become obsessive about fitness, weight, and improving their overall appearance.

With society’s current awareness of the devastating effects of eating disorders, as well as feminist outrage at women being objectified for their physical appearance, men are afraid to admit that they want attractive wives. We decry a shidduch system that imposes harsh requirements for women to be skinny and beautiful, yet at the same time, we admit that attraction must exist between marriage partners in order for the relationship to be successful.

There is a flip side to those folks who focus on their appearance in an extreme way (strict dieting, constant exercise, cosmetic procedures, expensive potions/lotions/makeup, trendy clothing). The other side of things is the stereotype of the rotund balebusta forever serving up potato kugel and kichelach to her portly husband, pasty skinned and soft from sitting behind a desk or a shtender all day – certainly not an image that would grace the cover of a romance novel. Fitness and beauty are for goyim.

The reality is that both men and women want attractive partners. Because of the taboo of married women attracting attention from other men, frum husbands can’t openly say they want a “trophy wife.” However, most men want a wife who makes them proud from a physical standpoint. Having a pretty wife is a status symbol of sorts. Who wants to be with someone that no one else will have? Many men are visual creatures and appreciate a pleasing appearance. Many men are also competitive on a variety of levels. Who their wife is, and more specifically, what she looks like, is included in that competition. Some men feel proud when they sense that other men are jealous of their wives.

This attitude is spoken of more openly in secular circles, because attraction and sexuality are more openly acknowledged. In frum circles, it’s not modest to talk of such things. Additionally, adultery is such a big taboo that a man complimenting or openly leering at a married woman would be harshly condemned.  It’s also considered frivolous to focus too much on physical appearance when marriage is supposed to be based on a love much deeper than the surface (which doesn’t at all correlate with the incessant focus on appearance before marriage in the shidduch scene). Therefore, we don’t talk about what happens when we lose attraction for our spouse, when we sense no one else finds them attractive either, or when we no longer find ourselves attractive after years of cholent, babies (sympathetic pregnancies and weight gain for men – hey, it’s a real thing!), and slowing metabolisms.

I know a couple who made a promise to each other, an informal prenuptial agreement of sorts, not to let themselves go appearance wise. They stuck to that promise to the best of their abilities. The reader who called me wanted to stress the importance of attraction in a marriage, and how detrimental it can be to downplay its importance. What makes a successful marriage, after all? Really, it isn’t the number of years a couple is married, but the number of years a couple is happily married. Sustained attraction is a key ingredient for happiness. Without it, a couple might have a marriage, but not a successful one.

Photo of Mount Sinai from ynetnews.com

I’ve been thinking about Shavuos and how Matan Torah established the Jewish people as one nation with our promise of “na’aseh v’nishma” or “we will do, and we will hear” Hashem’s commandments. Looking at the Jewish people of the 21^st century, it’s impossible to see ourselves as one nation. Even among Orthodox Jews, the factions have become so splintered; we are turning against each other. Jews of any other denomination aren’t acknowledged at all, and if they are, only in the most derogatory and dismissive terms. In the words of President Abraham Lincoln, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”

Growing up, all of the synagogue services I attended were Traditional, Conservative, or Reform. Never once did I hear a rabbi speak ill of Jews of different denominations. It was only after I began attending Orthodox services that I ever heard a rabbi speak with derision and scorn about Jews of different denominations. I made a point of seeking out an Orthodox shul whose rabbi did not disparage other Jews from the pulpit.

On a similar note, in the community I belong to, I’ve noticed a disturbing trend among some parents and school administrators. The families who attend the “other schools” are looked down upon.

“I wouldn’t send my son there because the boys play with action figures and watch TV.”

“Have you seen the short uniform skirts the girls wear? Well, it’s no surprise. Have you seen what the mothers wear?”

“That’s the school you send your kids to if you want them to be brainwashed.”

It’s nice to have various schools to choose from. Some schools are a better hashkafic match for a family than others. Maybe there are personal relationships with teachers or administrators that sway a family toward one school or another. Perhaps the academic curriculum or educational philosophy is more appealing at one school over the other.  With so many valid reasons for picking a school, why must we justify our decision by putting down the Jews who go to the “other school?”

I believe that this attitude is a trickle-down effect from the top. Just the other week at the Agudah convention, a leading rabbi condemned Reform, Conservative, and Open Orthodox movements, saying that they:

“…were among those who “subvert and destroy the eternal values of our people.” These movements, he said, “have disintegrated themselves, become oblivious, fallen into an abyss of intermarriage and assimilation.”

“They will be relegated,” he added, “to the dustbins of Jewish history.”

It’s a shame that some Orthodox Jews have to put down others to promote their own ideals. If adherents to a certain Orthodox hashkafah believe that theirs is the only true derech, there is no need to disparage other groups. Lead by example and love, and that truth will have a better chance of spreading among the Jewish people, reconnecting us back into one nation.

I wish you all a Chag Sameach!

My daughter has been told many times at school that talking to boys is assur. Certainly, a girl should never initiate a conversation, but even if a boy initiates a “hello” or a “good Shabbos,” the best response is to ignore him and not return the greeting. If the boy is a distant relative or his family is close friends with the girl’s family and not responding would be rude, the girl might have to accede to a brief and grudging “hello” for the sake of politeness.

Recently, my daughter has been told something new. Talking to boys is the gateway to gehennom. Boys are demons waiting to lure unsuspecting girls to the fiery gates of hell. I’d always suspected that my husband and sons were the devil’s spawn, and so naturally, I asked my daughter how this would play out at home. Was she no longer permitted to speak to her father and brothers?

My daughter assured me that her father and brothers were not included in this category. It was perfectly fine for her to speak with them. Of course, that got me wondering whether or not I should send out some sort of announcement letting the other women and girls in my community know that my husband and sons were the only safe males with whom they were permitted to speak. That it’s only their husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons who are the demon spawn.

Upon further investigation, it turns out that it’s only safe for me and my daughter to speak to my husband and sons. It’s not safe for any other females to speak with them. Apparently, a male is only safe around the females in his own immediate family, but he turns into an uncontrollable devil among unrelated females. Of course, this does make me eye the men in my life with suspicion. After all, what if one day they confuse me for a woman unrelated to them? Is it safe to live under the same roof with such volatile creatures?

The important thing is that the first step in awareness has been taken. Information is power. When a man says hello to you, keep walking. It also couldn’t hurt to spit three times to ward off the dybbuk, “Pthui, pthui, pthui!”

I’ve been pondering the concept of mandated mourning. After a parent dies, a child is required to mourn their loss for the 12 months following the death. This means refraining from participation in joyous occasions, celebrations, and public entertainment venues where people go to enjoy themselves.

I’ve been an avel since the end of last August, so I am in the final home stretch of aveilus. Of course, this also means that I’ll be missing this summer’s blockbuster movies, in all probability 4th of July fireworks (haven’t asked a shaila yet), Ravinia’s “under the stars” outdoor music concerts, this year’s Jewish Folk Arts festival which features live bands, to name but a few activities.

Basically, anytime someone brings up something fun to do, I have to pause and wonder if I will be allowed to attend. Even if there is some wiggle room for me to participate, there’s that sense of nagging Jewish guilt that pops up scolding me for trying to find a loophole to absolve myself of my responsibility. Personally, I’ve felt that I am honoring the laws of aveilus strictly for kibbud av v’eim (honoring your father and mother), and not so much for my own private grief. While I am saddened at the loss of my mother at a young age, since I never knew her, my grief is of a different nature.

Although this is not my situation, my feelings of growing impatience with the restrictions of aveilus as the year wears on have made me wonder how children of abusive parents feel during this time. If you are ambivalent, or perhaps even grateful for the death of your parent, how difficult must it be to refrain from all happy activities out of respect for their memory? In such a scenario when a child might be feeling relief, and possibly even joy at finally being free of a toxic parent, they are told that they must express the appropriate sadness instead of celebrating. Additionally, this outward display of sadness must continue not only for the week or thirty days following their parent’s death, but for an entire year. It’s not an easy undertaking.

I said to my husband the other day that I feel like I have nothing to look forward to. I’ve been perplexed at my state of melancholy lately, especially as the weather warms to my favorite season of summer when I am usually the most cheerful. It occurred to me, as my husband mentioned the folk arts festival happening today, that my malaise has a lot to do with my limitations during aveilus.

Thankfully, the restrictions of aveilus are temporary and there is an end in sight. However, I have to wonder at a mandated mourning system generalized for every type of mourner. The ways in which people mourn are as diverse as the mourners themselves and the relationships they had with their departed loved ones. While being excused from joyous occasions might be a welcome “time out” early in the mourning period, that time out might be unwelcome as time goes by and the mourner begins to feel isolated. Sometimes attending a show, dancing at a wedding, or socializing at a party is just what is needed to raise a mourner’s spirits. My hope is that those of you reading this post never have to consider my musings from a first hand perspective.