If you are one of the following people, you get a special discount in the Machane Yehuda Shuk. Or so you would think from the great numbers of them crowding the market. Forthwith, a tribute of sorts to them.
Old people walking very slowly, often accompanied by a shopping cart that swerves to block all those who attempt to pass. I like old people. I think they should be let out now and then. Like Tuesday mornings. Not Friday afternoon in the shuk.
Tourist standing around taking pictures of fruit and fresh fish. Apparently these people come from places that do not have such things. I suggest going to Stop & Shop and take your pictures there. Then you will not be in my way.
Do you see those other tourists with their cameras and dorky outfits? Why are you so careful to take pictures in which other tourists are not obstructing the fruit? Because those tourists are really not that interesting and you don't wish to see them again? Well that is how I feel about you.
Lady with baby carriage! Lady with double baby carriage! Do you realize that you are blocking the entire way? Just checking.
Lady with children who are playing on the ground! They are in everyone's way. They are causing a bottleneck as people swerve to avoid stepping on them. Some of these people are instead stepping on me. Who authorized you to have children, let alone bring them here on a Friday afternoon to disturb everyone? Do you think this is a shul? Show some respect!
You there, walking your bicycle! Do you think you are doing something good for the environment by riding here on your bicycle and then walking it through a throng of people? You sure aren't doing any favors for THIS environment. You should go over to that girl who brought her elephant-sized dog to the shuk today. You have a lot in common. You both take up too much space and make me sick.
No, I don't want a piece of halva. I want you to get out my way!
Hey, lady! Do you really have to block the entire pile of plums while you take forever to count your change, gather your belongings, and move on? Can't you do exactly the same thing a little off to the side so someone else can also make a purchase?
Speaking of making a purchase, typical Israeli shuk man, you screamed to the world that we absolutely had to come take a look at your apples, which are supposedly better than everyone else's apples, yet cheaper too. I thought I would humor you, because that's the sort of fellow I am. Now I am ready to pay for the apples, but you are not even acknowledging me, let alone taking my money. What is wrong with you? You got what you wanted. You hooked me in. You made the sale. But now you are in your own little world, completely disinterested in actually consummating the deal. You make people want you, and then you play hard to get? Is this all some kind of sick game to you?
I will concede that 5 shekels for 10 pitas is a good deal, but you don't have to shout at me.
All you people yammering on your cell phones as you block pedestrians and bounce off them like a pinball gone mad...I have no witty line that adequately addresses you. You are outside the pale.
Same goes for you clusters of people standing around having social conversations smack in the middle of traffic. Have you no manners? Have you no shame? Have you no awareness of the existence and needs of anyone with the misfortune to have the trajectory of his life intersect with yours in the middle of the shuk? Clearly not.
Little seminary girls thinking you own the place. Laughing it up. Showing off the four Hebrew words you know. Totally unaware that no Israeli refers to the Central Bus Station as "The Tachana" and that you sound like a moron every time you say that. Totally unaware that you say "like" so obsessively that you need treatment. It used to be a novelty to have you here. But not hundreds and thousands of you. Don't any of you yeshiva students actually, like, you know, LEARN anymore?
You there, yes you, lady, smack in the middle of Broadway! If you weren't humongous, it would be enough for us. If you didn't take up all 3 pedestrian lanes by positioning yourself just so, making it impossible to pass you, it would be enough for us. If you didn't have two rear ends, it would be enough for us. If your two rear ends didn't swing back and forth, making it treacherous for all decent folk to even consider passing you, it would be enough for us. And if you didn't keep stopping and standing still for no reason, but just kept moving, however slowly, it would be enough for us.
How much more so that you are humongous, you take up all 3 pedestrian lanes, you have two rear ends, your two rear ends swing back and forth, and you keep standing still. Dayenu.
No, I don't want a slice of tangerine.
Wait a second, is that seedless? On second thought, I'll take two.
Hey Arab guy pushing a huge wheeling thing right through the shuk! This street isn't big enough for us to coexist. I can't give you one single inch.
And here's another guy pushing a huge wheeling thing full of garbage! Hey, you missed a piece!
And here we have an Israeli guy singing an ode to the strawberries he is selling: "Strawberries, strawberries! Also cheap and also nice!" You have quite a future ahead of you. Selling strawberries in the shuk.
I propose to the management of the shuk that they take measures to eliminate the suffocating crowds of people who make the shopping experience insufferable. Maybe an express lane...or a slow lane...or a special lane for efficient shoppers who are mindful of others.
For that is me. And, with proper training, perhaps thee.
Thursday, October 07, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
The Barber
"Zilzalta ba'se'ar shelcha."
So said the barber to me. You've disregarded your hair.
I've always enjoyed getting a haircut. I find it very relaxing to close my eyes while the barber does his thing. I also think barbers are some of the more interesting people out there. Seriously, if you want to have an interesting conversation with someone from a given profession, a barber would be one of the better choices.
Speaking of that, before I get to the actual story, I'm going to go off on a long tangent. Bear with me. Just for fun, here's a list of some of the most interesting and least interesting people by profession to just shmooze with. I'm only including people from mainstream professions that regular people have easy access to; I'm sure clowns, astronauts, leaders of countries, and drug lords would all be interesting people to shmooze with, for example, but let's keep this real.
This is also not meant to be an exhaustive list, and is obviously going to be based on generalizations, so if that is likely to offend you feel free to scroll down to the story below, or read it anyway and be offended. Just don't tell me about it.
People who are likely to be interesting:
1) Barbers
Barbers come into personal contact with a wide range of people in a setting that lends itself to conversation. Having a good personality and being a good conversationalist are actually vital to this profession, though it's not something one immediately realizes. You'd think you just want someone who can give you the right "do" and not accidentally slice your neck, but haircutting can be pretty sensitive and personal, and intuition here can be vital. Barbers are therefore often extremely talented and intelligent people, even though no Jewish mother brags about her son, the barber.
Barbers also tend to eke out a meager living doing something they have a flair for that is underrated and often not all that pleasant. I certainly respect that.
2) Taxi and bus drivers
They also come into contact with a wide range of people, their work may take them near and far, and they also possess unnoticed talents that far transcend the job description. There's a lot more to it than just driving, and someone who does this kind of work long-term is very likely to have an interesting personality. Anyone who works hard at an under-appreciated job that requires a range of skills probably does.
3) Bartenders
Not that I would know.
4) Waiters / Restaurant Servers
This is far from a sure thing, but worth mentioning. It might be a sullen college kid looking to make a few bucks. But it can also be a really cool person who loves a lousy job and makes the whole experience more fun for everyone.
People who are not likely to be interesting:
1) Lawyers and others in the legal profession
These people must be masters at finding creative ways to show that they are right and other people are wrong, and must be successful at that a high percentage of the time. They're wired this way, and can't leave that personality at the office. Great if you need legal help, not great at the dinner table. They are also generally obsessed with their jobs, and thus have little to discuss besides their cases. So their stories might be interesting, but as people they aren't.
2) Wall Street Corporate Types
Consumed by their jobs and driven to get ahead, make it, impress the man, ultimately be the man, and ultimately be able to hang out with high society instead of with you. They have strange ideas about why some people succeed and others don't and have few opinions or morals that they would not readily discard to climb the next rung on the ladder. These guys aren't called empty suits for nothing. Everyone is just an angle for them, and since they may always be trying to sell you something now or soften you up for a sale down the road, you can never fully trust that they are being real with you.
3) Web Designers
Generally think they are smarter than everyone else, and generally get fixated on very small things. Great if you have a bug with your program, not great to hang out with.
4) Life Coaches
I wasn't born too long ago, but there weren't any life coaches back then. It seems more people have messed up lives than before, and their lives are messed up in more ways than before, so now we have a cottage industry of professionally messed up people to coach you on how to not be like them. Or something like that. These people are always marketing themselves -- always. They habitually use words like "empowerment" and other fashionable buzzwords that thankfully escape me to push a fancy-sounding ideology that isn't really all that sophisticated.
Life coaches also tend to be very young, which makes me wonder why, if this is a real profession, the real life coaches aren't people who, you know, have successfully made it through most of life. Do you really want some young new-age slick-talker coaching you, or a grizzled veteran of this world whose best years are behind him and really knows what it's all about? In other words, your barber is probably a better life coach, and he won't charge anything extra for the advice.
Which brings me back to my story. I've been meaning to get a haircut for a couple of weeks, but pushed it off some days, and other times the usual places I like to go near the shuk were closed. (Yes, I tend to be drawn to little barber shops that no Jewish mother would be caught dead in.) I was outside the Old City today late in the afternoon and was wavering between going to town and getting that haircut and just going home and pushing it off yet again until next week.
Suddenly I noticed a little barbershop right next to me on the corner across the street from the Old City walls. It really was a dingy little place that was very easy to miss despite being passed by countless people every day. The outside of the shop was not prominently marked, the lights weren't turned on, and everything about the place was as ancient as the walls across the street, including the lone barber and the customer in one of three chairs. I squeezed my way past them and sat down, grateful to have found such an appealing barber shop right when I wanted one. Everything should be this easy.
The barber was an old man with a very genial personality, and I wondered about him. Here he was in prime real estate running an ancient, decrepit barber shop, probably servicing only a handful of equally old men from who-knows-where. In the back of the shop behind a partition I spotted a bed with blankets on it, and I wondered if the guy made his home there as well. He can't possibly make much, and could probably sell the place to a real estate developer for a princely sum, but he probably lives to cut people's hair and run the little shop. I find this fascinating.
He carried on a steady conversation with the other customer, but when it was my turn there was little exchange, largely because I'm not confident enough with my Hebrew to make simple conversation. A pity, because I really got my money's worth anyway.
"Zilzalta ba'se'ar shelcha." You've disregarded your hair. Out of the blue, most of the way through the haircut. I opened my eyes and looked into the mirror.
And then he gently let me have it. No quotation marks, since this isn't verbatim, but this is what he said: If you want a plant to grow well you have to cut it regularly. Same thing with hair. Some of your hair has fallen out in the front because you haven't cut your hair in 2 or 3 months. Chaval. I've been cutting hair for 60 years. You have good hair. Your hair in the side and in the back is very good hair, will last you until 120.
It was true. I'd gotten my last haircut right before the 3 weeks, about two months ago. My hair in the front had thinned some time before that, but the last few years I'd started to get haircuts every eight weeks or so instead of every four. I thought I didn't need to get haircuts more often, and that it didn't grow back as fast as it used to anyway. What did I know about plants?
I asked him how often I should get my hair cut. Every month?
Initially he thought I asked something else (maybe my Hebrew was unclear) and he started to tell me about how he took over the shop from his brother. That probably would have been interesting, but I was a desperate man and I interrupted to ask the question again.
Every forty days or fifty days, he said.
I asked with feeble hope if there was any way the hair that had fallen out would grow back. No luck. But he said what I still have (which is a lot!) will remain. I believe him, too.
He resumed the haircut and I closed my eyes again, grateful for the knowledge. At one point he quietly sang "If I forget you, Jerusalem" for a few seconds.
All that for only 35 shekels. I look forward to going back. In forty days.
So said the barber to me. You've disregarded your hair.
I've always enjoyed getting a haircut. I find it very relaxing to close my eyes while the barber does his thing. I also think barbers are some of the more interesting people out there. Seriously, if you want to have an interesting conversation with someone from a given profession, a barber would be one of the better choices.
Speaking of that, before I get to the actual story, I'm going to go off on a long tangent. Bear with me. Just for fun, here's a list of some of the most interesting and least interesting people by profession to just shmooze with. I'm only including people from mainstream professions that regular people have easy access to; I'm sure clowns, astronauts, leaders of countries, and drug lords would all be interesting people to shmooze with, for example, but let's keep this real.
This is also not meant to be an exhaustive list, and is obviously going to be based on generalizations, so if that is likely to offend you feel free to scroll down to the story below, or read it anyway and be offended. Just don't tell me about it.
People who are likely to be interesting:
1) Barbers
Barbers come into personal contact with a wide range of people in a setting that lends itself to conversation. Having a good personality and being a good conversationalist are actually vital to this profession, though it's not something one immediately realizes. You'd think you just want someone who can give you the right "do" and not accidentally slice your neck, but haircutting can be pretty sensitive and personal, and intuition here can be vital. Barbers are therefore often extremely talented and intelligent people, even though no Jewish mother brags about her son, the barber.
Barbers also tend to eke out a meager living doing something they have a flair for that is underrated and often not all that pleasant. I certainly respect that.
2) Taxi and bus drivers
They also come into contact with a wide range of people, their work may take them near and far, and they also possess unnoticed talents that far transcend the job description. There's a lot more to it than just driving, and someone who does this kind of work long-term is very likely to have an interesting personality. Anyone who works hard at an under-appreciated job that requires a range of skills probably does.
3) Bartenders
Not that I would know.
4) Waiters / Restaurant Servers
This is far from a sure thing, but worth mentioning. It might be a sullen college kid looking to make a few bucks. But it can also be a really cool person who loves a lousy job and makes the whole experience more fun for everyone.
People who are not likely to be interesting:
1) Lawyers and others in the legal profession
These people must be masters at finding creative ways to show that they are right and other people are wrong, and must be successful at that a high percentage of the time. They're wired this way, and can't leave that personality at the office. Great if you need legal help, not great at the dinner table. They are also generally obsessed with their jobs, and thus have little to discuss besides their cases. So their stories might be interesting, but as people they aren't.
2) Wall Street Corporate Types
Consumed by their jobs and driven to get ahead, make it, impress the man, ultimately be the man, and ultimately be able to hang out with high society instead of with you. They have strange ideas about why some people succeed and others don't and have few opinions or morals that they would not readily discard to climb the next rung on the ladder. These guys aren't called empty suits for nothing. Everyone is just an angle for them, and since they may always be trying to sell you something now or soften you up for a sale down the road, you can never fully trust that they are being real with you.
3) Web Designers
Generally think they are smarter than everyone else, and generally get fixated on very small things. Great if you have a bug with your program, not great to hang out with.
4) Life Coaches
I wasn't born too long ago, but there weren't any life coaches back then. It seems more people have messed up lives than before, and their lives are messed up in more ways than before, so now we have a cottage industry of professionally messed up people to coach you on how to not be like them. Or something like that. These people are always marketing themselves -- always. They habitually use words like "empowerment" and other fashionable buzzwords that thankfully escape me to push a fancy-sounding ideology that isn't really all that sophisticated.
Life coaches also tend to be very young, which makes me wonder why, if this is a real profession, the real life coaches aren't people who, you know, have successfully made it through most of life. Do you really want some young new-age slick-talker coaching you, or a grizzled veteran of this world whose best years are behind him and really knows what it's all about? In other words, your barber is probably a better life coach, and he won't charge anything extra for the advice.
Which brings me back to my story. I've been meaning to get a haircut for a couple of weeks, but pushed it off some days, and other times the usual places I like to go near the shuk were closed. (Yes, I tend to be drawn to little barber shops that no Jewish mother would be caught dead in.) I was outside the Old City today late in the afternoon and was wavering between going to town and getting that haircut and just going home and pushing it off yet again until next week.
Suddenly I noticed a little barbershop right next to me on the corner across the street from the Old City walls. It really was a dingy little place that was very easy to miss despite being passed by countless people every day. The outside of the shop was not prominently marked, the lights weren't turned on, and everything about the place was as ancient as the walls across the street, including the lone barber and the customer in one of three chairs. I squeezed my way past them and sat down, grateful to have found such an appealing barber shop right when I wanted one. Everything should be this easy.
The barber was an old man with a very genial personality, and I wondered about him. Here he was in prime real estate running an ancient, decrepit barber shop, probably servicing only a handful of equally old men from who-knows-where. In the back of the shop behind a partition I spotted a bed with blankets on it, and I wondered if the guy made his home there as well. He can't possibly make much, and could probably sell the place to a real estate developer for a princely sum, but he probably lives to cut people's hair and run the little shop. I find this fascinating.
He carried on a steady conversation with the other customer, but when it was my turn there was little exchange, largely because I'm not confident enough with my Hebrew to make simple conversation. A pity, because I really got my money's worth anyway.
"Zilzalta ba'se'ar shelcha." You've disregarded your hair. Out of the blue, most of the way through the haircut. I opened my eyes and looked into the mirror.
And then he gently let me have it. No quotation marks, since this isn't verbatim, but this is what he said: If you want a plant to grow well you have to cut it regularly. Same thing with hair. Some of your hair has fallen out in the front because you haven't cut your hair in 2 or 3 months. Chaval. I've been cutting hair for 60 years. You have good hair. Your hair in the side and in the back is very good hair, will last you until 120.
It was true. I'd gotten my last haircut right before the 3 weeks, about two months ago. My hair in the front had thinned some time before that, but the last few years I'd started to get haircuts every eight weeks or so instead of every four. I thought I didn't need to get haircuts more often, and that it didn't grow back as fast as it used to anyway. What did I know about plants?
I asked him how often I should get my hair cut. Every month?
Initially he thought I asked something else (maybe my Hebrew was unclear) and he started to tell me about how he took over the shop from his brother. That probably would have been interesting, but I was a desperate man and I interrupted to ask the question again.
Every forty days or fifty days, he said.
I asked with feeble hope if there was any way the hair that had fallen out would grow back. No luck. But he said what I still have (which is a lot!) will remain. I believe him, too.
He resumed the haircut and I closed my eyes again, grateful for the knowledge. At one point he quietly sang "If I forget you, Jerusalem" for a few seconds.
All that for only 35 shekels. I look forward to going back. In forty days.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
The Juk
When the meraglim brought back an evil report about Israel they talked about giant fruits, giant cities, and giant people. What they really should have reported if they wanted to frighten the people was the giant cockroaches known as jukim. New York has nothing on Israeli cockroaches.
What's most impressive to me about jukim is that they are deceptively fast, like linebackers on steroids. You'd expect a cockroach that big to be an easy kill, but I found out the first time I tried to whack one that you usually get just one swing, and if you miss, you've struck out. The juk will be gone, disappearing into some crack or crevice a fraction of its size (this is what the Gemara means when it talks about a place containing much more than its physical area; even the bugs here live on miracles).
Last night I was minding my own business, trusting that you could mind yours without me, when I spotted a juk on my kitchen floor, midway between my front door and a wall. I instinctively reached for an empty 1.5 liter plastic bottle.
Time froze in that instant. The juk and I sized each other up, knowing that we would not coexist, could not coexist, engaged in a stalemate that could not last. Without making much of a move lest I prompt my adversary into an early retreat, I glanced around for a better weapon, something with a wider range, yet with sufficient punch to kill, and also dispensable, but found none. It would be the slim plastic bottle.
The juk didn't move in those seconds, knowing an attack would be forthcoming and waiting for me to make my move so he would know which way to dash. I waited as well, thinking the juk might crack and just make a run for it one way or the other. If I swung at the wrong moment I was almost certain to miss, and the juk would likely be gone before I could strike again. And I didn't want to gamble that he would be gone inside my apartment instead of out through the narrow opening underneath my door. The tension was extreme.
I advanced toward my target, slowly, carefully, poised to strike if the juk moved. Then it all happened at once. The juke scurried left toward the wall and I swung in that same instant, scoring a direct hit. Crunch! The juk was down and I poised to strike again in case there was any movement, but there was none. I was doubly pleased to see that there was no mess of blood and guts. It was a very clean kill.
Disposing of the body was no pleasant task, since I did not want to come into even indirect contact with the thing. I decided to sweep him out into the hall of my basement apartment, and brushed him all the way down the hall, figuring the corpse could be relocated at a later time if needed. Hopefully the cleaning people would get rid of him, or he might decompose quickly, or some other bugs might feast on him, perhaps even take his presence as a warning. At that moment I just wanted him out and far away. Dead juks are far less urgent to me than live ones.
This morning I woke up for an early minyan and noticed that the dead juk was no longer there. No one else lives down here, and few ever traverse the hall. It was very unlikely that in those few hours someone had passed by and decided to remove the dead juk, or that an army of other bugs had eaten it or carried it away for burial.
That left one likely possibility: I had failed to deliver a final blow after all. Like any number of cheap horror movies, and against all appearances, I had failed to finish off the monster.
I hope there is some other explanation. But for now I can only dread the possibility that this little contest -- nay, this nightmare -- may not be over.
What's most impressive to me about jukim is that they are deceptively fast, like linebackers on steroids. You'd expect a cockroach that big to be an easy kill, but I found out the first time I tried to whack one that you usually get just one swing, and if you miss, you've struck out. The juk will be gone, disappearing into some crack or crevice a fraction of its size (this is what the Gemara means when it talks about a place containing much more than its physical area; even the bugs here live on miracles).
Last night I was minding my own business, trusting that you could mind yours without me, when I spotted a juk on my kitchen floor, midway between my front door and a wall. I instinctively reached for an empty 1.5 liter plastic bottle.
Time froze in that instant. The juk and I sized each other up, knowing that we would not coexist, could not coexist, engaged in a stalemate that could not last. Without making much of a move lest I prompt my adversary into an early retreat, I glanced around for a better weapon, something with a wider range, yet with sufficient punch to kill, and also dispensable, but found none. It would be the slim plastic bottle.
The juk didn't move in those seconds, knowing an attack would be forthcoming and waiting for me to make my move so he would know which way to dash. I waited as well, thinking the juk might crack and just make a run for it one way or the other. If I swung at the wrong moment I was almost certain to miss, and the juk would likely be gone before I could strike again. And I didn't want to gamble that he would be gone inside my apartment instead of out through the narrow opening underneath my door. The tension was extreme.
I advanced toward my target, slowly, carefully, poised to strike if the juk moved. Then it all happened at once. The juke scurried left toward the wall and I swung in that same instant, scoring a direct hit. Crunch! The juk was down and I poised to strike again in case there was any movement, but there was none. I was doubly pleased to see that there was no mess of blood and guts. It was a very clean kill.
Disposing of the body was no pleasant task, since I did not want to come into even indirect contact with the thing. I decided to sweep him out into the hall of my basement apartment, and brushed him all the way down the hall, figuring the corpse could be relocated at a later time if needed. Hopefully the cleaning people would get rid of him, or he might decompose quickly, or some other bugs might feast on him, perhaps even take his presence as a warning. At that moment I just wanted him out and far away. Dead juks are far less urgent to me than live ones.
This morning I woke up for an early minyan and noticed that the dead juk was no longer there. No one else lives down here, and few ever traverse the hall. It was very unlikely that in those few hours someone had passed by and decided to remove the dead juk, or that an army of other bugs had eaten it or carried it away for burial.
That left one likely possibility: I had failed to deliver a final blow after all. Like any number of cheap horror movies, and against all appearances, I had failed to finish off the monster.
I hope there is some other explanation. But for now I can only dread the possibility that this little contest -- nay, this nightmare -- may not be over.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Independence Day in Exile
I'm fond of saying that it will be easier for me celebrate Yom Ha'atzma'ut when Israel becomes an independent country.
There is no era since the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash in which I would rather live than this one. While I definitely miss the true leadership and Gadlus of former times that is absent -- yes, absent -- in this generation, I don't pine for the shtetl, and I don't think I would have been able to adapt to living through pogroms, famines, plagues, and extreme persecution, which characterized most of the last 2000+ years of our history. Nope, I definitely wouldn't trade places.
That said, I have a very difficult time getting emotionally wrapped up in Yom Ha'atzma'ut. I abhor the Israeli government, but I am extremely grateful to live in Israel and equally abhor the fact that supposedly religious Jews can view living here as anything other than an incredible miracle and blessing. I see no dichotomy in celebrating the existence and achievements of this country while yearning for more authentic Jewish leadership. So it isn't anti-Zionism or ingratitude that makes it hard for me to get "into" Yom Ha'atzma'ut.
It's knowing that we are still very much in exile.
We cannot pray in our holiest place, and are prevented from doing so by fellow Jews, lest Arabs riot and the world condemn us for causing the trouble.
We cannot build homes without negotiating with other countries. Those who renovate their porch without the approval of the anti-Semitic president of a foreign country are liable to have it bulldozed by special forces. Jewish ones.
We drag Jews out of their homes and destroy thousands of lives just so we can prove to the anti-Semites that we are willing to do anything to be liked by them. Conversely, we are not willing to flex much at all so that we can get along better with our fellow Jews.
Churches and mosques receive greater protection here than shuls. If those other religions are offended it's bad news for us. If our religion is offended, well, we can take it.
Our soldiers are neutered and sent on needlessly perilous missions to minimize casualties to the enemy. After all, the world doesn't like when our enemies suffer casualties, so better for our people to take the hit and spare ourselves the condemnation.
Soldiers and citizens who defend themselves from attacks are liable to be harshly prosecuted. The knife has to be just half an inch from their throat before they use force, and even then only minimal force. If it's a full inch away they have to exercise "restraint" and call for help. Or run. It's okay to run.
I can go on, but you get the point. Tisha B'av still resonates with me very well. I'm having a hard time getting the hang of celebrating independence. It requires shutting out far too much.
When the second Beis Hamikdash was dedicated there was quite a celebration. But not everyone celebrated. And the reason why they didn't celebrate wasn't because they were ungrateful, anti-Zionist, or otherwise askew. They simply COULDN'T celebrate, because they knew.
The people who didn't celebrate were the old Jews who remembered the first Beis Hamikdash. That exile, after all, was only 70 years, so there were plenty of people who lived to see both Batei Mikdash. As glamorous as the second structure was, it paled in comparison to what remained lost -- only most people didn't feel it even if they knew it. What was to others a cause for great celebration -- after all, it was far better than being slaves in Bavel -- was to the elders a cheap substitute, and cause for tears. This wasn't redemption...not REAL redemption. And as grateful as they surely were to have something resembling redemption, something that was a major upgrade over the recent past, they couldn't shake the knowledge that the exile was still very real.
That is why I cannot really get into Yom Ha'atzma'ut. I never saw anything better than what we have today, and I can't adequately express how grateful I am not to have experienced anything worse. In a generation that is still less than a century removed from the Holocaust I can't blame anyone for celebrating Yom Ha'atzma'ut with nothing but joy. We really do have a lot to be grateful for.
But if one is truly sensitive to what redemption is supposed to look like, what independence is supposed to look like, and what true Jewish life is supposed to look like, it feels almost as guilty to celebrate this day too much as it would to not care for it at all.
I look forward to the true Yom Ha'atzma'ut: when we can thank Hashem wherever we want, when we can build wherever we want, when we can travel without fear anywhere in our land, and when our enemies know that if they raise a hand to throw a rock at us they will never get a chance to throw it.
Now THAT calls for a barbecue.
There is no era since the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash in which I would rather live than this one. While I definitely miss the true leadership and Gadlus of former times that is absent -- yes, absent -- in this generation, I don't pine for the shtetl, and I don't think I would have been able to adapt to living through pogroms, famines, plagues, and extreme persecution, which characterized most of the last 2000+ years of our history. Nope, I definitely wouldn't trade places.
That said, I have a very difficult time getting emotionally wrapped up in Yom Ha'atzma'ut. I abhor the Israeli government, but I am extremely grateful to live in Israel and equally abhor the fact that supposedly religious Jews can view living here as anything other than an incredible miracle and blessing. I see no dichotomy in celebrating the existence and achievements of this country while yearning for more authentic Jewish leadership. So it isn't anti-Zionism or ingratitude that makes it hard for me to get "into" Yom Ha'atzma'ut.
It's knowing that we are still very much in exile.
We cannot pray in our holiest place, and are prevented from doing so by fellow Jews, lest Arabs riot and the world condemn us for causing the trouble.
We cannot build homes without negotiating with other countries. Those who renovate their porch without the approval of the anti-Semitic president of a foreign country are liable to have it bulldozed by special forces. Jewish ones.
We drag Jews out of their homes and destroy thousands of lives just so we can prove to the anti-Semites that we are willing to do anything to be liked by them. Conversely, we are not willing to flex much at all so that we can get along better with our fellow Jews.
Churches and mosques receive greater protection here than shuls. If those other religions are offended it's bad news for us. If our religion is offended, well, we can take it.
Our soldiers are neutered and sent on needlessly perilous missions to minimize casualties to the enemy. After all, the world doesn't like when our enemies suffer casualties, so better for our people to take the hit and spare ourselves the condemnation.
Soldiers and citizens who defend themselves from attacks are liable to be harshly prosecuted. The knife has to be just half an inch from their throat before they use force, and even then only minimal force. If it's a full inch away they have to exercise "restraint" and call for help. Or run. It's okay to run.
I can go on, but you get the point. Tisha B'av still resonates with me very well. I'm having a hard time getting the hang of celebrating independence. It requires shutting out far too much.
When the second Beis Hamikdash was dedicated there was quite a celebration. But not everyone celebrated. And the reason why they didn't celebrate wasn't because they were ungrateful, anti-Zionist, or otherwise askew. They simply COULDN'T celebrate, because they knew.
The people who didn't celebrate were the old Jews who remembered the first Beis Hamikdash. That exile, after all, was only 70 years, so there were plenty of people who lived to see both Batei Mikdash. As glamorous as the second structure was, it paled in comparison to what remained lost -- only most people didn't feel it even if they knew it. What was to others a cause for great celebration -- after all, it was far better than being slaves in Bavel -- was to the elders a cheap substitute, and cause for tears. This wasn't redemption...not REAL redemption. And as grateful as they surely were to have something resembling redemption, something that was a major upgrade over the recent past, they couldn't shake the knowledge that the exile was still very real.
That is why I cannot really get into Yom Ha'atzma'ut. I never saw anything better than what we have today, and I can't adequately express how grateful I am not to have experienced anything worse. In a generation that is still less than a century removed from the Holocaust I can't blame anyone for celebrating Yom Ha'atzma'ut with nothing but joy. We really do have a lot to be grateful for.
But if one is truly sensitive to what redemption is supposed to look like, what independence is supposed to look like, and what true Jewish life is supposed to look like, it feels almost as guilty to celebrate this day too much as it would to not care for it at all.
I look forward to the true Yom Ha'atzma'ut: when we can thank Hashem wherever we want, when we can build wherever we want, when we can travel without fear anywhere in our land, and when our enemies know that if they raise a hand to throw a rock at us they will never get a chance to throw it.
Now THAT calls for a barbecue.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Making Shul a Mikdash Me'at
There was something very striking about the otherwise pedestrian Sunday-morning shacharis minyan I attended today: at no point was the service disturbed by the ringing (or singing) of a communication device.
What's most striking about this is that it was striking.
Women who do not normally attend shul during the week may be startled to learn that it has become entirely the norm for cell phones to ring multiple times during davening. In fact, it has become fairly normal for the SAME cell phone to ring multiple times during davening (after the first time it can't be due to forgetfulness), and even for the owner to take the call.
[I have yet to decide if it's a greater slap in the face to God to leave shul to talk on the telephone or to stay put. From a standpoint of etiquette for the others trying to daven, obviously one should minimize his sin by leaving the room. But it sure doesn't look nice when someone makes a public display of walking out on God, rejecting a conversation with the Almighty so he can have one with someone else.]
Anyhow, this got me thinking about something that I think about often, since the topic is thrown in my face three times a day: our communal prayer services are often a disgrace, and generally unbearable besides. Mind you, I'm NOT criticizing the institution of communal prayer services nor the standardized format that has been instituted, but the manner in which we bring this institution to life.
If you weren't Jewish and you attended pretty much any shul, would you be impressed? Would you be inspired? Would you want to go back and experience it again? Would you want to teach your children to connect to God just like that?
If you answered yes to any of these questions, I'd love to know why, and where you daven.
The average daily minyan has one or more of the following significant blemishes every single time:
1) Starting time arrives, but davening doesn't start. Instead everyone looks at everyone else waiting for someone to step up and lead the davening. Maybe a Gabbai, or an ad hoc Gabbai, runs around asking, cajoling, and negotiating with various people to daven. He receives all manner of negative responses, some of which openly denigrate the important and venerable task of representing the tzibur in communal prayer. We've already sabotaged our offering to God and we haven't even started yet.
2) Starting time arrives and someone, perhaps grudgingly and with some fanfare as if he's taking one for the team and deserves a parade in his honor, agrees to lead at least part of the davening. But davening still doesn't begin. They're waiting for the rav to arrive.
The Gemara states that at the appointed time for communal prayer God visits the shul, and if they don't start He gets disgusted and leaves them. Never mind that. Never mind also that they are leaving aside the kavod of Shamayim in favor of kavod for basar v'dam. Never mind also that the tzibur is being unfairly burdened due to the lateness of an individual -- albeit a dignified one -- and Chazal were very sensitive about that. Never mind any of that.
They wait, all due to misplaced kavod for a rav -- kavod that oftentimes is not manifest in situations where it SHOULD be.
3) For 10-15 minutes the tzibur suffers listening to a ba'al tefilla who doesn't know how to read Hebrew, is either far too fast or far too slow, has an unpleasant voice, may be difficult to follow, and may make serious mistakes in the basic seder ha'tefilla. At the end of pesuka d'zimra he has enough and departs, and another waiting game ensues until a replacement steps forward to save the day. The replacement is not necessarily an upgrade.
4) The davening may be moving along at a reasonable pace, but grinds to a halt upon reaching Sh'ma. The rav, who until now had no difficulty keeping pace, suddenly needs 3 times the amount of time of everyone else to recite the Sh'ma. Why? Because that's part of the social expectations of a rav -- to at least pretend to have more kavana than everyone else.
But since it would be a tircha for him to have more kavana for the whole davening, we allow him to just have move kavana by Sh'ma and Sh'moneh Esrei. This is an entirely unspoken understanding, but it's just about universal.
Now, obviously, it is impossible to know how much kavanah a person has when he davens. It's an entirely internal and personal thing. But in our society, which places such a premium on appearing frum, we have to demonstrate having kavanah by taking more time, being loud at times, and making intense physical gestures. That's how we separate the men from the boys when it comes to davening.
So the rav makes a point of being the slowest when it comes to Sh'ma and letting everyone know when he's done, thereby a) usurping the ba'al tefilla, whose job it is to set the pace of the davening, b) disturbing his own kavana by worrying about being slow enough, and c) disturbing everyone else's kavana by being a tircha. Again, this is just about universal. Happens twice a day, every day, at the two most critical junctures of the davening. Wrap your Da'as Torah around that.
5) The moment the silent Sh'moneh Esrei begins, as if on cue, someone will start sneezing or coughing uncontrollably and/or a cell phone will blast an abominable ringtone or a circus tune. I'm willing to bet it isn't God on the other end answering our tefillos. He left long ago.
6) Shnorrers will invade the premises and start hustling people for money. This will happen during Sh'ma, chazaras hashatz, or whenever. They will even hustle the ba'al tefilla during chazaras hashatz; anything goes. In some shuls the davening will be hijacked at a certain point (such as before the second Ashrei or before Aleinu) so someone, birshus harav, can give his sales pitch for his yeshiva in distress or that family with 10 orphans, 3 of whom are getting married next week and can't put food on the table (sorry, I've gotten cynical about these sales pitches).
There's a time and a place for all mitzvos, collecting tzedaka for legitimate and worthy causes most definitely included. But not in the middle of davening.
7) If the Torah is being read it will probably be read most improperly. If the ba'al koreh gets most of the words right, doesn't butcher the trop too badly, knows where most of the pesukim end, reads audibly and somewhat clearly, and doesn't have too unpleasant a voice, the tzibur should consider itself very fortunate.
8) The aliyos might be auctioned off, in which case the davening is further stretched by unnecessary interruptions and further de-sanctified.
9) Weekday shacharis will typically take 30-40 minutes. Various mi she'beirachs will extend the total time by about 5 minutes -- nearly 20 percent! If the tzibur isn't restless by now and can muster even a smidgen of spiritual connection it is a group of saints.
10) Shabbos davening will typically include a drasha that is long, repetitious, and uninspiring. I have yet to meet the tzibur that is disappointed when the rav is out of town and there is no drasha. Why do most shuls continue to have drashos that extend the davening by 10 percent or more? Because it's another one of those unwritten rules.
If they are lucky, once in a while the drasha will be truly educational and inspiring. Generally, though, it will be insipid, and if it leads to discussion the discussion is likely to consist primarily of lashon hara denigrating the drasha and the rav. I guess this is how they make up for waiting for him and his Sh'ma.
11) Shabbos davening will have long, boring announcements where the president of the shul tries to be witty. Your cost? Another 5 percent to the davening time. Admit it: you just want to get out of there. Not exactly the feeling we are supposed to have after a prayer service.
12) Little kids will cry in shul, make noise in shul, and run around shul disturbing people. This is not chinuch, this isn't hak'hel, and shul is not a day care center. Children who cannot respect the environment do not belong in shul, and parents who have no other way to attend shul should daven at home. Their presence is a net loss to the tzibur, and they have no right to take away from the ability of others to daven properly just so they can be there. Same goes for people with hacking coughs and those who feel that they must have their cell phone on at all times.
I cannot imagine any child sitting through all this and coming to the realization that -- yes! -- Judaism is engaging, interesting, inspiring, and something he wants to participate in as much as possible. More likely, it is an insufferable bore that he learns to tolerate like everyone else and will pay some degree of outward homage to so he can better fit in with his society. This is what we are teaching our children.
We are fond of noting that we don't have a Bais Hamikdash today because Jews mistreat and scorn one another for no good reason. That's true. But, honestly, if you were God and you saw how most people treated the Mikdash Me'at, would you be quick to give them a bigger, better Mikdash? What would be the sense in that?
Davening is difficult for most people most of the time. We are reciting words written by other people, sticking to a standardized format, and trying to connect to them and to God. Nothing against the words or the format (the former are infused with kedusha and the latter is probably the best we can do), but it isn't always easy for that to translate to a meaningful experience.
It's also much easier to ruin a spiritual atmosphere than to create one. It really doesn't take much at all. So considering how difficult it is for an individual to connect to the davening and how easy it is to foil the attempt, the way our shuls function essentially dooms us from having a positive spiritual experience.
Note as well that I speak nothing about how much singing there is or other artificial things that a particular shul might do to make davening more "meaningful" or "participatory". The effectiveness of these things is highly variable and will only work for some personalities in any case. What I'm talking about is the unnecessary NEGATIVE, entirely thoughtless things that go on almost all the time that detract from the davening.
Davening should be streamlined. Leading the davening should be recognized as an honor and a tremendous responsibility, and those who are offered and accept the task should know how to do it properly. Same goes with reading the Torah -- this is not a democracy where everyone gets a chance just because they feel like it. This is a vital communal event and a public offering to God. Those who lead it should be people who represent the tzibur properly and favorably. If not many people are so qualified, we should institute community-wide remedial educational programs to rectify this. This should be recognized as a big problem that demands a solution.
Priority should be placed on creating an environment that is comfortable and allows for people to have a spiritual experience. This is not something that can come externally from the shul (though positive elements in how the davening is performed can certainly facilitate a spiritual experience) but something that must come from within the individual. Nevertheless, shul should not be a place that makes it difficult for one to have a spiritual experience or, God forbid, create a negative one.
The main thing for people to keep in mind is that shul is God's domain, a mikdash me'at. It is not your home, it is not your office, and it is not your spiritual laboratory. It's not about you. It's about serving Hashem and petitioning him both individually and as part of a community. This must be done on God's terms and in a fashion that is in harmony with the needs of others present. Hence, there is no place for cell phones, talking, unruly children, unnecessary delays, or illiterate ba'alei tefilla and ba'alei keriya. Again, it's not about you or me, but about all of us and how we serve Hashem together.
Maybe one day as a society we will create environments in shul that are highly conducive to positive spiritual experiences. For now, let's at least not create environments that make such experiences all but impossible. Maybe, just maybe, our efforts will help make us worthy of building the real Mikdash.
What's most striking about this is that it was striking.
Women who do not normally attend shul during the week may be startled to learn that it has become entirely the norm for cell phones to ring multiple times during davening. In fact, it has become fairly normal for the SAME cell phone to ring multiple times during davening (after the first time it can't be due to forgetfulness), and even for the owner to take the call.
[I have yet to decide if it's a greater slap in the face to God to leave shul to talk on the telephone or to stay put. From a standpoint of etiquette for the others trying to daven, obviously one should minimize his sin by leaving the room. But it sure doesn't look nice when someone makes a public display of walking out on God, rejecting a conversation with the Almighty so he can have one with someone else.]
Anyhow, this got me thinking about something that I think about often, since the topic is thrown in my face three times a day: our communal prayer services are often a disgrace, and generally unbearable besides. Mind you, I'm NOT criticizing the institution of communal prayer services nor the standardized format that has been instituted, but the manner in which we bring this institution to life.
If you weren't Jewish and you attended pretty much any shul, would you be impressed? Would you be inspired? Would you want to go back and experience it again? Would you want to teach your children to connect to God just like that?
If you answered yes to any of these questions, I'd love to know why, and where you daven.
The average daily minyan has one or more of the following significant blemishes every single time:
1) Starting time arrives, but davening doesn't start. Instead everyone looks at everyone else waiting for someone to step up and lead the davening. Maybe a Gabbai, or an ad hoc Gabbai, runs around asking, cajoling, and negotiating with various people to daven. He receives all manner of negative responses, some of which openly denigrate the important and venerable task of representing the tzibur in communal prayer. We've already sabotaged our offering to God and we haven't even started yet.
2) Starting time arrives and someone, perhaps grudgingly and with some fanfare as if he's taking one for the team and deserves a parade in his honor, agrees to lead at least part of the davening. But davening still doesn't begin. They're waiting for the rav to arrive.
The Gemara states that at the appointed time for communal prayer God visits the shul, and if they don't start He gets disgusted and leaves them. Never mind that. Never mind also that they are leaving aside the kavod of Shamayim in favor of kavod for basar v'dam. Never mind also that the tzibur is being unfairly burdened due to the lateness of an individual -- albeit a dignified one -- and Chazal were very sensitive about that. Never mind any of that.
They wait, all due to misplaced kavod for a rav -- kavod that oftentimes is not manifest in situations where it SHOULD be.
3) For 10-15 minutes the tzibur suffers listening to a ba'al tefilla who doesn't know how to read Hebrew, is either far too fast or far too slow, has an unpleasant voice, may be difficult to follow, and may make serious mistakes in the basic seder ha'tefilla. At the end of pesuka d'zimra he has enough and departs, and another waiting game ensues until a replacement steps forward to save the day. The replacement is not necessarily an upgrade.
4) The davening may be moving along at a reasonable pace, but grinds to a halt upon reaching Sh'ma. The rav, who until now had no difficulty keeping pace, suddenly needs 3 times the amount of time of everyone else to recite the Sh'ma. Why? Because that's part of the social expectations of a rav -- to at least pretend to have more kavana than everyone else.
But since it would be a tircha for him to have more kavana for the whole davening, we allow him to just have move kavana by Sh'ma and Sh'moneh Esrei. This is an entirely unspoken understanding, but it's just about universal.
Now, obviously, it is impossible to know how much kavanah a person has when he davens. It's an entirely internal and personal thing. But in our society, which places such a premium on appearing frum, we have to demonstrate having kavanah by taking more time, being loud at times, and making intense physical gestures. That's how we separate the men from the boys when it comes to davening.
So the rav makes a point of being the slowest when it comes to Sh'ma and letting everyone know when he's done, thereby a) usurping the ba'al tefilla, whose job it is to set the pace of the davening, b) disturbing his own kavana by worrying about being slow enough, and c) disturbing everyone else's kavana by being a tircha. Again, this is just about universal. Happens twice a day, every day, at the two most critical junctures of the davening. Wrap your Da'as Torah around that.
5) The moment the silent Sh'moneh Esrei begins, as if on cue, someone will start sneezing or coughing uncontrollably and/or a cell phone will blast an abominable ringtone or a circus tune. I'm willing to bet it isn't God on the other end answering our tefillos. He left long ago.
6) Shnorrers will invade the premises and start hustling people for money. This will happen during Sh'ma, chazaras hashatz, or whenever. They will even hustle the ba'al tefilla during chazaras hashatz; anything goes. In some shuls the davening will be hijacked at a certain point (such as before the second Ashrei or before Aleinu) so someone, birshus harav, can give his sales pitch for his yeshiva in distress or that family with 10 orphans, 3 of whom are getting married next week and can't put food on the table (sorry, I've gotten cynical about these sales pitches).
There's a time and a place for all mitzvos, collecting tzedaka for legitimate and worthy causes most definitely included. But not in the middle of davening.
7) If the Torah is being read it will probably be read most improperly. If the ba'al koreh gets most of the words right, doesn't butcher the trop too badly, knows where most of the pesukim end, reads audibly and somewhat clearly, and doesn't have too unpleasant a voice, the tzibur should consider itself very fortunate.
8) The aliyos might be auctioned off, in which case the davening is further stretched by unnecessary interruptions and further de-sanctified.
9) Weekday shacharis will typically take 30-40 minutes. Various mi she'beirachs will extend the total time by about 5 minutes -- nearly 20 percent! If the tzibur isn't restless by now and can muster even a smidgen of spiritual connection it is a group of saints.
10) Shabbos davening will typically include a drasha that is long, repetitious, and uninspiring. I have yet to meet the tzibur that is disappointed when the rav is out of town and there is no drasha. Why do most shuls continue to have drashos that extend the davening by 10 percent or more? Because it's another one of those unwritten rules.
If they are lucky, once in a while the drasha will be truly educational and inspiring. Generally, though, it will be insipid, and if it leads to discussion the discussion is likely to consist primarily of lashon hara denigrating the drasha and the rav. I guess this is how they make up for waiting for him and his Sh'ma.
11) Shabbos davening will have long, boring announcements where the president of the shul tries to be witty. Your cost? Another 5 percent to the davening time. Admit it: you just want to get out of there. Not exactly the feeling we are supposed to have after a prayer service.
12) Little kids will cry in shul, make noise in shul, and run around shul disturbing people. This is not chinuch, this isn't hak'hel, and shul is not a day care center. Children who cannot respect the environment do not belong in shul, and parents who have no other way to attend shul should daven at home. Their presence is a net loss to the tzibur, and they have no right to take away from the ability of others to daven properly just so they can be there. Same goes for people with hacking coughs and those who feel that they must have their cell phone on at all times.
I cannot imagine any child sitting through all this and coming to the realization that -- yes! -- Judaism is engaging, interesting, inspiring, and something he wants to participate in as much as possible. More likely, it is an insufferable bore that he learns to tolerate like everyone else and will pay some degree of outward homage to so he can better fit in with his society. This is what we are teaching our children.
We are fond of noting that we don't have a Bais Hamikdash today because Jews mistreat and scorn one another for no good reason. That's true. But, honestly, if you were God and you saw how most people treated the Mikdash Me'at, would you be quick to give them a bigger, better Mikdash? What would be the sense in that?
Davening is difficult for most people most of the time. We are reciting words written by other people, sticking to a standardized format, and trying to connect to them and to God. Nothing against the words or the format (the former are infused with kedusha and the latter is probably the best we can do), but it isn't always easy for that to translate to a meaningful experience.
It's also much easier to ruin a spiritual atmosphere than to create one. It really doesn't take much at all. So considering how difficult it is for an individual to connect to the davening and how easy it is to foil the attempt, the way our shuls function essentially dooms us from having a positive spiritual experience.
Note as well that I speak nothing about how much singing there is or other artificial things that a particular shul might do to make davening more "meaningful" or "participatory". The effectiveness of these things is highly variable and will only work for some personalities in any case. What I'm talking about is the unnecessary NEGATIVE, entirely thoughtless things that go on almost all the time that detract from the davening.
Davening should be streamlined. Leading the davening should be recognized as an honor and a tremendous responsibility, and those who are offered and accept the task should know how to do it properly. Same goes with reading the Torah -- this is not a democracy where everyone gets a chance just because they feel like it. This is a vital communal event and a public offering to God. Those who lead it should be people who represent the tzibur properly and favorably. If not many people are so qualified, we should institute community-wide remedial educational programs to rectify this. This should be recognized as a big problem that demands a solution.
Priority should be placed on creating an environment that is comfortable and allows for people to have a spiritual experience. This is not something that can come externally from the shul (though positive elements in how the davening is performed can certainly facilitate a spiritual experience) but something that must come from within the individual. Nevertheless, shul should not be a place that makes it difficult for one to have a spiritual experience or, God forbid, create a negative one.
The main thing for people to keep in mind is that shul is God's domain, a mikdash me'at. It is not your home, it is not your office, and it is not your spiritual laboratory. It's not about you. It's about serving Hashem and petitioning him both individually and as part of a community. This must be done on God's terms and in a fashion that is in harmony with the needs of others present. Hence, there is no place for cell phones, talking, unruly children, unnecessary delays, or illiterate ba'alei tefilla and ba'alei keriya. Again, it's not about you or me, but about all of us and how we serve Hashem together.
Maybe one day as a society we will create environments in shul that are highly conducive to positive spiritual experiences. For now, let's at least not create environments that make such experiences all but impossible. Maybe, just maybe, our efforts will help make us worthy of building the real Mikdash.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Pesach Madness - Post Your Product!
In honor of Pesach, I'm asking readers to submit the wackiest "Kosher La'Pesach" products they've come across this year. I don't have anything special to submit at this time, personally, though I can begin the roster with Kosher La'Pesach napkins, courtesy of Badatz in Jerusalem. So in case you were thinking of ingesting napkins this year, you're covered.
What else is out there?
What else is out there?
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Just trying to help
I have an article coming out soon called "Sinning Against Singles" that elaborates on how individuals and the community at large sin against singles in ways that are obvious and not so obvious. In general, the faulty and negative attitudes people have toward singles, and the comments they make which unwittingly reflect this, often far outweigh their attempts to "help".
Yesterday I announced an upcoming ETM Shabbaton in Israel, and a well-meaning woman forwarded it around (trying to help) with the following message (not helpful): "Do you know any older single people to go to this shabbaton?"
We engaged in the following correspondence. I've highlighted the remarks that are unwittingly offensive and reflect very faulty attitudes that will cause more harm than good in her efforts to "help" singles, following by my remarks in italics (these were not included in the correspondence):
CTW: I don't understand this email you sent me. The age range is up to 35.
Plonis: I was trying to help you - you posted this up to 35 is older singles to me.
is that what you dont understand? (I thought I would get a thankyou, sorry if I interfered)
CTW: At what age is a single old in your opinion?
Plonis: I said 'older' not 'old'. I'm referring to post highschool/yeshiva/army singles I suppose. I realize that perhaps it might be considered offensive and I'm sorry, but I sent this out to my friends hoping they have that person who is still searching (as opposed to just starting to search). I dont think the 19/20 yr olds (males) need to go to something like this. Let the 'older' young men and women have a chance to find their beshert. I would say 'older' means 25 and up? [It's not your place to decide at what age people should have an opportunity to meet someone, as if this is triage of sorts. If the 19/20 year olds are ready to get married, and they are fortunate enough to meet someone while they are so young, all the better. Limiting their opportunities in favor of others only increases the likelihood that they will become "older singles".]
Chananya, it is done so please forgive me. What other term would you have suggested.
We do what we can to help singles and I find that "older' singles get a bit too touchy about their status. [I can only imagine why!]
I was 30 when I finally married, and had a horrible time finding "the one" - and have been married for 26 years B"H - so I AM GRATEFULL for having had the opportunity. All you singles s/b hopeful and grateful for the opportunity as well. [Rather preachy and condescending] good luck
CTW: Everyone is older than someone else.
I would have recommended just forwarding it as is and letting people decide for themselves if they are appropriate to attend. This is also not an event for people who are desperate and need a chance to find their bashert. People who put that kind of pressure on the event will not have a good time or be good company, and I would prefer they not attend, regardless of how old they are.
I've attached an article of mine that you might find interesting, if not helpful.
Thanks for passing the word along about the event.
Yesterday I announced an upcoming ETM Shabbaton in Israel, and a well-meaning woman forwarded it around (trying to help) with the following message (not helpful): "Do you know any older single people to go to this shabbaton?"
We engaged in the following correspondence. I've highlighted the remarks that are unwittingly offensive and reflect very faulty attitudes that will cause more harm than good in her efforts to "help" singles, following by my remarks in italics (these were not included in the correspondence):
CTW: I don't understand this email you sent me. The age range is up to 35.
Plonis: I was trying to help you - you posted this up to 35 is older singles to me.
is that what you dont understand? (I thought I would get a thankyou, sorry if I interfered)
CTW: At what age is a single old in your opinion?
Plonis: I said 'older' not 'old'. I'm referring to post highschool/yeshiva/army singles I suppose. I realize that perhaps it might be considered offensive and I'm sorry, but I sent this out to my friends hoping they have that person who is still searching (as opposed to just starting to search). I dont think the 19/20 yr olds (males) need to go to something like this. Let the 'older' young men and women have a chance to find their beshert. I would say 'older' means 25 and up? [It's not your place to decide at what age people should have an opportunity to meet someone, as if this is triage of sorts. If the 19/20 year olds are ready to get married, and they are fortunate enough to meet someone while they are so young, all the better. Limiting their opportunities in favor of others only increases the likelihood that they will become "older singles".]
Chananya, it is done so please forgive me. What other term would you have suggested.
We do what we can to help singles and I find that "older' singles get a bit too touchy about their status. [I can only imagine why!]
I was 30 when I finally married, and had a horrible time finding "the one" - and have been married for 26 years B"H - so I AM GRATEFULL for having had the opportunity. All you singles s/b hopeful and grateful for the opportunity as well. [Rather preachy and condescending] good luck
CTW: Everyone is older than someone else.
I would have recommended just forwarding it as is and letting people decide for themselves if they are appropriate to attend. This is also not an event for people who are desperate and need a chance to find their bashert. People who put that kind of pressure on the event will not have a good time or be good company, and I would prefer they not attend, regardless of how old they are.
I've attached an article of mine that you might find interesting, if not helpful.
Thanks for passing the word along about the event.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Feminism's Impact on the Shidduch World
Very interesting discussion going on in the Madness Watch thread of the EndTheMadness bulletin board (www.endthemadness.org) regarding the changed values and attitudes women are bringing into the dating process.
The discussion is based on a study conducted by a secular woman which found that women as a societal trend have become incredibly quick to reject men for all manner of trivial reasons, while men tend to be far more magnanimous and reasonable. The women then rationalize and complain that there just aren't enough good guys out there, while in reality they are rejecting good guys for all sorts of trivial and nonsensical reasons. (The article can be found at http://www.cnn.com/2010/LIVING/02/24/lori.gottlieb.marry.him/?hpt=Sbin)
This corroborates my own observations about this over the last few years, while the heated objections of a few women to the post on the ETM bulletin board only further validates the findings. I'm not going to reconstruct everything here, but encourage readers to check out this thread (and all the others!) on the ETM bulletin board.
Generally speaking, if a guy finds a girl attractive, intelligent, pleasant to be with, and appreciates her values, he will be EAGER to see her again. If a girl finds the same in a guy, that will most likely not be nearly enough. If something he said, or some mannerism, or some other little thing can be interpreted in a negative way, it's off.
Guys don't go home and psychoanalyze and microanalyze every little thing about the date until they can find something to be concerned about. Girls do. Not all girls, of course; this is obviously a generalization. But there is no question that this is an increasingly prevalent norm, and it's bad news for everyone. (Except girls who don't do this, anyway.)
This is a very real problem, and one that no one in our community seems to acknowledge -- on the contrary, our community has gobbled up the urban myth that there aren't enough good guys, while tending to feel sympathy for single women and antipathy for single men.
In other words, once again, our community's evaluation and reaction to problems in the shidduch world is woefully off-track and counterproductive.
The discussion is based on a study conducted by a secular woman which found that women as a societal trend have become incredibly quick to reject men for all manner of trivial reasons, while men tend to be far more magnanimous and reasonable. The women then rationalize and complain that there just aren't enough good guys out there, while in reality they are rejecting good guys for all sorts of trivial and nonsensical reasons. (The article can be found at http://www.cnn.com/2010/LIVING/02/24/lori.gottlieb.marry.him/?hpt=Sbin)
This corroborates my own observations about this over the last few years, while the heated objections of a few women to the post on the ETM bulletin board only further validates the findings. I'm not going to reconstruct everything here, but encourage readers to check out this thread (and all the others!) on the ETM bulletin board.
Generally speaking, if a guy finds a girl attractive, intelligent, pleasant to be with, and appreciates her values, he will be EAGER to see her again. If a girl finds the same in a guy, that will most likely not be nearly enough. If something he said, or some mannerism, or some other little thing can be interpreted in a negative way, it's off.
Guys don't go home and psychoanalyze and microanalyze every little thing about the date until they can find something to be concerned about. Girls do. Not all girls, of course; this is obviously a generalization. But there is no question that this is an increasingly prevalent norm, and it's bad news for everyone. (Except girls who don't do this, anyway.)
This is a very real problem, and one that no one in our community seems to acknowledge -- on the contrary, our community has gobbled up the urban myth that there aren't enough good guys, while tending to feel sympathy for single women and antipathy for single men.
In other words, once again, our community's evaluation and reaction to problems in the shidduch world is woefully off-track and counterproductive.
Friday, February 19, 2010
The Non-Volunteers Part 2
And here's one that takes the prize for being the most startling correspondence, if only because the person who contacted me seems to have been kidnapped by the Borg and brainwashed, so striking is the change in his attitude. Maybe his wife got bleached, or they threw some stones at his window, and he realized that they really do have the Torah way after all.
Ploni: I am interested in helping, as is my wife
Can you please call me
We have been here almost 8 years, and are very connected to the Ramat Bet Shemesh Anglo community
Just saw your website. Were you successful in creating shiduchim?
There is a HUGE need for your ideas!
[We talk on the phone for about 20 minutes and it's a very positive conversation. He sounds completely on board and says he will survey a couple of local shuls about hosting a Shabbaton. Can it be? Do we have a live one here?
Several days pass.]
Chananya: Any news?
Ploni: I sent an email to R. [Ploni], and he did not dismiss it out of hand. He says he needs more info. I would like you to "pitch" him, after I introduce you, since you have a much better idea what we are talking about. The Rav was in the US this week…I will speak to him probably on Sunday and set up a time for you to call him.
I will also call R. [Almoni], whose khilah is less charade and perhaps more interested. I don't know if their shul has a social hall. I will find out.
Chananya: "he did not dismiss it out of hand" -- doesn't exactly sound like a kindred spirit. As I told you over the phone, I'm not interested in trying to win over people from the Chelmishe veldt. If he's generally opposed to mixed seating, it's not a conversation I'm interested in having. I don't care to justify it to people who are normally squeamish about having men and women seated together, or in answering stupid questions like "who endorses my events", etc. I'm interested in planning an event in conjunction with a shul and a community that is already fully on board with this sort of thing, not people who may grudgingly allow it if I can say the right words and convince them that it's kosher and I'm kosher. I don't need the headaches.
Ploni: Please keep in mind, he runs an orthodox shul. I assume the people who are coming to this event are also orthodox. The halacha is generally to separate men and women. If you are looking for a conservative community where mixed seating is the norm, you will not find it here in Bet Shemesh, or probably anywhere in Israel. You are going to be hard pressed to find the 5th Ave type lay back, quasi religious shul and community where single guys bring tefillin out on dates. That is simply not the style here in Israel.
I told the Rav clearly that the whole event would be mixed – at the lectures, oneg, etc. If he is willing to find out more, that is a very good thing. This is a very warm, supportive community, with many, many anglos. The goal is simply to tell him about what you plan. If he is not interested, he will tell you. No major deal here. If he is not interested, there are others that might be.
When he get's back, I will let you know.
Chananya: The first paragraph is a little offensive. I am strictly Orthodox. The halacha is to separate men and women during tefilla and times of potential levity, such as Yom Tov meals with celebrations. The halacha IS NOT to separate men and women at wedding meals, concerts, Shabbatons, etc. The perversion of this halacha is a major contributor to the so-called "shidduch crisis", and to suggest that someone who understands and applies halacha properly (as it was applied by real Gedolim up to the current wayward generation) is not Orthodox is outrageous. I think it's not Orthodox to erect inappropriate barriers between men and women to the extent that singles have no normal opportunities to meet one another. He is machmir on an extreme interpretation of tznius; I am machmir on providing appropriate opportunities for singles to meet without compromising halacha in the slightest.
If this particular rabbi sees a mixed event as anything less than a lechatchila I'd rather not waste my time or his.
Ploni: This has been a very interesting exchange. Gives me much more insight into where you are coming from.
Rav [Ploni] does not consider mixing men and women a lechatchila
Frankly, I do not know of any shul in Ramat Bet Shemesh that would consider mixing men and women as a lechatchila
I don't see how I can be of help.
Chananya: We spoke extensively on the phone and I thought I made it rather clear where I was coming from. I'm dismayed that this is a chiddush now.
Maybe one day the shuls in Ramat Beit Shemesh will realize they are not quite as holier-than-thou as they like to believe themselves to be, and they will care more about singles than maintaining this false image.
All the best.
-----
And there you have it. My plea to thousands of people in Israel for the minimal assistance I need to help make ETM events happen, events that are desperately needed and that would help countless people, has resulted in thousands of crickets chirping, a few crazy people, a few people who can only write one email, and a handful of promising leads that have thus far not led anywhere.
This is not a new story, and it has nothing to do with me or ETM. For all the talk about the "shidduch crisis" there is only an infinitesimal percentage of people who really, truly care. There are plenty of people who care about THEMSELVES and making sure their own needs are taken care of, and there are plenty of people who care so long as they can make a buck or garner some good PR off the plight of singles, but there is almost no one who really, truly cares about the people who are suffering and the issues that are affecting the community.
You don't need think tanks, surveys, and people with lots of letters after their last name to tell you what the "real" problem is or to come up with fancy solutions. The real problems are generally obvious and the solutions are generally straightforward. Unfortunately, hardly anyone cares -- really, truly cares -- enough to do anything about it.
And so more days and years pass.
Ploni: I am interested in helping, as is my wife
Can you please call me
We have been here almost 8 years, and are very connected to the Ramat Bet Shemesh Anglo community
Just saw your website. Were you successful in creating shiduchim?
There is a HUGE need for your ideas!
[We talk on the phone for about 20 minutes and it's a very positive conversation. He sounds completely on board and says he will survey a couple of local shuls about hosting a Shabbaton. Can it be? Do we have a live one here?
Several days pass.]
Chananya: Any news?
Ploni: I sent an email to R. [Ploni], and he did not dismiss it out of hand. He says he needs more info. I would like you to "pitch" him, after I introduce you, since you have a much better idea what we are talking about. The Rav was in the US this week…I will speak to him probably on Sunday and set up a time for you to call him.
I will also call R. [Almoni], whose khilah is less charade and perhaps more interested. I don't know if their shul has a social hall. I will find out.
Chananya: "he did not dismiss it out of hand" -- doesn't exactly sound like a kindred spirit. As I told you over the phone, I'm not interested in trying to win over people from the Chelmishe veldt. If he's generally opposed to mixed seating, it's not a conversation I'm interested in having. I don't care to justify it to people who are normally squeamish about having men and women seated together, or in answering stupid questions like "who endorses my events", etc. I'm interested in planning an event in conjunction with a shul and a community that is already fully on board with this sort of thing, not people who may grudgingly allow it if I can say the right words and convince them that it's kosher and I'm kosher. I don't need the headaches.
Ploni: Please keep in mind, he runs an orthodox shul. I assume the people who are coming to this event are also orthodox. The halacha is generally to separate men and women. If you are looking for a conservative community where mixed seating is the norm, you will not find it here in Bet Shemesh, or probably anywhere in Israel. You are going to be hard pressed to find the 5th Ave type lay back, quasi religious shul and community where single guys bring tefillin out on dates. That is simply not the style here in Israel.
I told the Rav clearly that the whole event would be mixed – at the lectures, oneg, etc. If he is willing to find out more, that is a very good thing. This is a very warm, supportive community, with many, many anglos. The goal is simply to tell him about what you plan. If he is not interested, he will tell you. No major deal here. If he is not interested, there are others that might be.
When he get's back, I will let you know.
Chananya: The first paragraph is a little offensive. I am strictly Orthodox. The halacha is to separate men and women during tefilla and times of potential levity, such as Yom Tov meals with celebrations. The halacha IS NOT to separate men and women at wedding meals, concerts, Shabbatons, etc. The perversion of this halacha is a major contributor to the so-called "shidduch crisis", and to suggest that someone who understands and applies halacha properly (as it was applied by real Gedolim up to the current wayward generation) is not Orthodox is outrageous. I think it's not Orthodox to erect inappropriate barriers between men and women to the extent that singles have no normal opportunities to meet one another. He is machmir on an extreme interpretation of tznius; I am machmir on providing appropriate opportunities for singles to meet without compromising halacha in the slightest.
If this particular rabbi sees a mixed event as anything less than a lechatchila I'd rather not waste my time or his.
Ploni: This has been a very interesting exchange. Gives me much more insight into where you are coming from.
Rav [Ploni] does not consider mixing men and women a lechatchila
Frankly, I do not know of any shul in Ramat Bet Shemesh that would consider mixing men and women as a lechatchila
I don't see how I can be of help.
Chananya: We spoke extensively on the phone and I thought I made it rather clear where I was coming from. I'm dismayed that this is a chiddush now.
Maybe one day the shuls in Ramat Beit Shemesh will realize they are not quite as holier-than-thou as they like to believe themselves to be, and they will care more about singles than maintaining this false image.
All the best.
-----
And there you have it. My plea to thousands of people in Israel for the minimal assistance I need to help make ETM events happen, events that are desperately needed and that would help countless people, has resulted in thousands of crickets chirping, a few crazy people, a few people who can only write one email, and a handful of promising leads that have thus far not led anywhere.
This is not a new story, and it has nothing to do with me or ETM. For all the talk about the "shidduch crisis" there is only an infinitesimal percentage of people who really, truly care. There are plenty of people who care about THEMSELVES and making sure their own needs are taken care of, and there are plenty of people who care so long as they can make a buck or garner some good PR off the plight of singles, but there is almost no one who really, truly cares about the people who are suffering and the issues that are affecting the community.
You don't need think tanks, surveys, and people with lots of letters after their last name to tell you what the "real" problem is or to come up with fancy solutions. The real problems are generally obvious and the solutions are generally straightforward. Unfortunately, hardly anyone cares -- really, truly cares -- enough to do anything about it.
And so more days and years pass.
The Non-Volunteers Part 1
It's become somewhat of a running joke. Someone contacts us and enthusiastically expresses interest in planning an event or otherwise becoming involved. We follow up. We then never hear from them again. This is the modern form of calling out a donation in shul and then stiffing them. Why do people do this? Because people stink, that's why.
Two weeks ago I posted a message on the Nefesh B'Nefesh Yahoo groups with the subject "A call to action in the shidduch world". It went as follows:
-----
More than seven years ago I started a grassroots volunteer campaign called EndTheMadness (www.endthemadness.org) to bring sanity and true Torah values back to the shidduch world. To date our small group of volunteers has held dozens of Shabbatons and other events for both singles and the entire community to promote these values, model them in action, and provide normal, non-awkward social opportunities for singles.
We take no salaries for our efforts, charge the minimum we can get away with (many events have been no charge), and funnel any surplus funds into future initiatives. Those who have benefited from our efforts and express interest in donating money are advised to donate time instead in helping to spread the message and further the cause. EndTheMadness isn't non-profit; it is anti-profit.
Nearly all of our events to date have been in the New York area. I recently made aliya and would like very much to bring these kinds of programs and opportunities to Israel. Unfortunately, I don't yet have the connections here that I need to make this happen. I need shuls and communities that are interested in hosting events and at least a few serious people who are interested in helping organize them. No prior experience running programs is necessary, nor is any long-term commitment necessary to make a difference. The main qualification is to care enough to do something.
If you care enough to do something, please contact me.
Sincerely,
Chananya Weissman
-----
More than 6000 people received this message, and I know that it was forwarded around by some people on the mailing list.
Here is a complete summary of the replies I received. The most striking will be posted in a follow-up post, as it deserves one all to itself:
1) "attention chananya:
my husband and i thought you might have some tips or suggestions for our daughter,
[Plonis] who is a bit discouraged by what she's been going out with...."
This was followed by a long, bland, boring shidduch profile. Sorry, wrong number.
2) "HELLO
I AM 35 YEARS OLD AND I WANT TO MARRY A GOOD LOOKING KIND MAN WITH A GOOD JOB CAN YOU HELP ME I LIVE IN ISRAEL"
Vanna, I'd like to buy a punctuation mark.
As if this email weren't already an impressive showing of hishtadlus, it came unsigned from what seems to be an anonymous email account. Help is definitely on the way.
3) An email from a mother who expressed interest in helping but is out of the country until Pesach. It read in part:
"Yes, I am interested in helping you "end the madness". I think you will do better in israel than NY with this mission."
Um, not yet.
4) "Hello Chananya,
I am single, living in Jerusalem, and I would be very happy to volunteer for the cause.
Please be in touch with me.
Thanks.
[Plonis]
Two follow up emails were not returned. Someone needs to explain to this young lady that volunteering for the cause requires just a little more.
5) "I am with you 100%
I am in the givatayim area of tel aviv let me know what I can do"
I suggested one way he could help with an initiative based on his professional background as an actor, and mentioned that ETM is a volunteer effort. I never heard from him again. So much for being with me 100%. I would have settled for even 30%.
6) "Chananya,
A friend of mine forwarded me a post by you about your efforts and your desire to continue these efforts here in Israel. Firsty, mazal tov on your aliyah!
I am a 34 year old single woman living in Jerusalem who (side from looking for my guy) has decided to become a life coach specializing in the Jewish dating world. As a person swimming in the midst of it all and seeing no one around who wants to make a change, I've decided to attempt to change things myself...even one person at a time. I have taken a look at your website, and would love to speak with you further about your efforts.
Kol tuv and blessings,
[Plonis]
I replied that I would be happy to speak with her and gave her my phone number. Never heard from her again, and a second follow-up email was also ignored. Seems to be a trend. I guess writing that first email is so exhausting for some people that they need a break from volunteering.
7) "Chananya . . .Yes, I would like to become more involved, perhaps [Ploni] would, too. He is a good friend of mine. I practiced law in the states (NYC) and walked away from the "corporate" world two years ago and have never looked back. I live in Be'er Sheva."
It took 2 follow-up emails to get a reply. She then wrote in part, "A conservative Shul might be more receptive to your program.. . .just a thought."
Thanks. I explained that we're strictly Orhtodox and haven't heard back.
8) "Hi,
Me and a few friends are trying to develop a shiduch network, event and party and regular shiduch "thing".
We have trouble getting the Israeli boys around and good attractive ideas for events.
We would be happy to join forces."
This young lady planned a meeting, then canceled it, and has not been heard from since.
9) I had an email correspondence and a meeting with one woman who is interested in planning events, but the last word was she's set on planning a speed dating event. Maybe she will help with something else, but I explained that speed dating runs contrary to what I'm trying to create.
10) The closest thing to a volunteer: a mother from a largely Anglo community outside of Jerusalem floated the idea of a Shabbaton to friends and neighbors, and we're still in correspondence. However, the shul doesn't really have appropriate facilities, and the ball is in her court at the moment. I'm not holding my breath that this will work out.
See follow-up post.
Two weeks ago I posted a message on the Nefesh B'Nefesh Yahoo groups with the subject "A call to action in the shidduch world". It went as follows:
-----
More than seven years ago I started a grassroots volunteer campaign called EndTheMadness (www.endthemadness.org) to bring sanity and true Torah values back to the shidduch world. To date our small group of volunteers has held dozens of Shabbatons and other events for both singles and the entire community to promote these values, model them in action, and provide normal, non-awkward social opportunities for singles.
We take no salaries for our efforts, charge the minimum we can get away with (many events have been no charge), and funnel any surplus funds into future initiatives. Those who have benefited from our efforts and express interest in donating money are advised to donate time instead in helping to spread the message and further the cause. EndTheMadness isn't non-profit; it is anti-profit.
Nearly all of our events to date have been in the New York area. I recently made aliya and would like very much to bring these kinds of programs and opportunities to Israel. Unfortunately, I don't yet have the connections here that I need to make this happen. I need shuls and communities that are interested in hosting events and at least a few serious people who are interested in helping organize them. No prior experience running programs is necessary, nor is any long-term commitment necessary to make a difference. The main qualification is to care enough to do something.
If you care enough to do something, please contact me.
Sincerely,
Chananya Weissman
-----
More than 6000 people received this message, and I know that it was forwarded around by some people on the mailing list.
Here is a complete summary of the replies I received. The most striking will be posted in a follow-up post, as it deserves one all to itself:
1) "attention chananya:
my husband and i thought you might have some tips or suggestions for our daughter,
[Plonis] who is a bit discouraged by what she's been going out with...."
This was followed by a long, bland, boring shidduch profile. Sorry, wrong number.
2) "HELLO
I AM 35 YEARS OLD AND I WANT TO MARRY A GOOD LOOKING KIND MAN WITH A GOOD JOB CAN YOU HELP ME I LIVE IN ISRAEL"
Vanna, I'd like to buy a punctuation mark.
As if this email weren't already an impressive showing of hishtadlus, it came unsigned from what seems to be an anonymous email account. Help is definitely on the way.
3) An email from a mother who expressed interest in helping but is out of the country until Pesach. It read in part:
"Yes, I am interested in helping you "end the madness". I think you will do better in israel than NY with this mission."
Um, not yet.
4) "Hello Chananya,
I am single, living in Jerusalem, and I would be very happy to volunteer for the cause.
Please be in touch with me.
Thanks.
[Plonis]
Two follow up emails were not returned. Someone needs to explain to this young lady that volunteering for the cause requires just a little more.
5) "I am with you 100%
I am in the givatayim area of tel aviv let me know what I can do"
I suggested one way he could help with an initiative based on his professional background as an actor, and mentioned that ETM is a volunteer effort. I never heard from him again. So much for being with me 100%. I would have settled for even 30%.
6) "Chananya,
A friend of mine forwarded me a post by you about your efforts and your desire to continue these efforts here in Israel. Firsty, mazal tov on your aliyah!
I am a 34 year old single woman living in Jerusalem who (side from looking for my guy) has decided to become a life coach specializing in the Jewish dating world. As a person swimming in the midst of it all and seeing no one around who wants to make a change, I've decided to attempt to change things myself...even one person at a time. I have taken a look at your website, and would love to speak with you further about your efforts.
Kol tuv and blessings,
[Plonis]
I replied that I would be happy to speak with her and gave her my phone number. Never heard from her again, and a second follow-up email was also ignored. Seems to be a trend. I guess writing that first email is so exhausting for some people that they need a break from volunteering.
7) "Chananya . . .Yes, I would like to become more involved, perhaps [Ploni] would, too. He is a good friend of mine. I practiced law in the states (NYC) and walked away from the "corporate" world two years ago and have never looked back. I live in Be'er Sheva."
It took 2 follow-up emails to get a reply. She then wrote in part, "A conservative Shul might be more receptive to your program.. . .just a thought."
Thanks. I explained that we're strictly Orhtodox and haven't heard back.
8) "Hi,
Me and a few friends are trying to develop a shiduch network, event and party and regular shiduch "thing".
We have trouble getting the Israeli boys around and good attractive ideas for events.
We would be happy to join forces."
This young lady planned a meeting, then canceled it, and has not been heard from since.
9) I had an email correspondence and a meeting with one woman who is interested in planning events, but the last word was she's set on planning a speed dating event. Maybe she will help with something else, but I explained that speed dating runs contrary to what I'm trying to create.
10) The closest thing to a volunteer: a mother from a largely Anglo community outside of Jerusalem floated the idea of a Shabbaton to friends and neighbors, and we're still in correspondence. However, the shul doesn't really have appropriate facilities, and the ball is in her court at the moment. I'm not holding my breath that this will work out.
See follow-up post.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Half-Baked Mehadrin
[Cross-posted in the Madness Watch thread of www.endthemadness.org.]
http://www.israelnationalnews.com/News/News.aspx/136077
A three-member panel of Supreme Court judges issued a restraining order against adding more bus lines to the separate-gender bus routes.
The judges – Elyakim Rubenstein, Yoram Dantziger and Salim Jubran – ruled that the State must also make sure that on the existing “mehadrin” buses, as they are called, separate seating for men and women are not enforced. Men and women may be directed to get on and off the bus via separate doors, however.
The “mehadrin” lines are popular in areas populated by hareidi-religious Jews, but have caused controversy even there on occasion. Several women have reported being disgraced or even assaulted when they “dared” to sit in a spot reserved for men.
The judges acknowledged that the option of separate-seating bus lines in certain neighborhoods should be considered, where there is a demand for such.
The judges noted that the word “mehadrin,” referring to going beyond that which is required by the letter of the law, “might apply to Chanukah candles, kosher laws or an etrog, but apparently does not necessarily mean that whoever is mehader in the laws of modesty and inter-gender mingling is also mehader in the laws of respect to others.”
----------------
Emphasis mine.
Few seem to realize that every chumrah is also a kulah in some other area. You can't put more emphasis in one area without concurrently putting less emphasis somewhere else. And sometimes one loses a great deal more than he gains.
Favor extreme approaches to tznius that place single men and women far from one another? Sure, fine. But you're also favoring an extremely lenient approach to providing sufficient effective opportunities for men and women to successfully meet and marry. Hello shidduch crisis.
Favor extreme approaches to Torah study and filtering out inappropriate influences? As you wish, but you're also favoring an extremely lenient approach toward producing well-rounded, capable, self-sufficient human beings who can deal with ordinary life challenges and think for themselves. Lots of Torah book knowledge won't compensate, either. Torah ethics will ultimately suffer as well when times get tough. Final score? You lose.
These are just two prime examples of many; hopefully food for thought.
http://www.israelnationalnews.com/News/News.aspx/136077
A three-member panel of Supreme Court judges issued a restraining order against adding more bus lines to the separate-gender bus routes.
The judges – Elyakim Rubenstein, Yoram Dantziger and Salim Jubran – ruled that the State must also make sure that on the existing “mehadrin” buses, as they are called, separate seating for men and women are not enforced. Men and women may be directed to get on and off the bus via separate doors, however.
The “mehadrin” lines are popular in areas populated by hareidi-religious Jews, but have caused controversy even there on occasion. Several women have reported being disgraced or even assaulted when they “dared” to sit in a spot reserved for men.
The judges acknowledged that the option of separate-seating bus lines in certain neighborhoods should be considered, where there is a demand for such.
The judges noted that the word “mehadrin,” referring to going beyond that which is required by the letter of the law, “might apply to Chanukah candles, kosher laws or an etrog, but apparently does not necessarily mean that whoever is mehader in the laws of modesty and inter-gender mingling is also mehader in the laws of respect to others.”
----------------
Emphasis mine.
Few seem to realize that every chumrah is also a kulah in some other area. You can't put more emphasis in one area without concurrently putting less emphasis somewhere else. And sometimes one loses a great deal more than he gains.
Favor extreme approaches to tznius that place single men and women far from one another? Sure, fine. But you're also favoring an extremely lenient approach to providing sufficient effective opportunities for men and women to successfully meet and marry. Hello shidduch crisis.
Favor extreme approaches to Torah study and filtering out inappropriate influences? As you wish, but you're also favoring an extremely lenient approach toward producing well-rounded, capable, self-sufficient human beings who can deal with ordinary life challenges and think for themselves. Lots of Torah book knowledge won't compensate, either. Torah ethics will ultimately suffer as well when times get tough. Final score? You lose.
These are just two prime examples of many; hopefully food for thought.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
A Chilly Shabbos
Last Shabbos I davened at a small minyan with about 15 men. I sat in the back. Right before shevi'i the Gabbai approached me and offered me an aliya. After the aliya, without even turning to me, he launched into a mi she'beirach in which he declared on my behalf that I would, bli neder, give a matanah. He then shook my hand vigorously.
After I returned to my seat he came by and dropped off a pre-addressed envelope.
I have long been unhappy with the common practice to sell kibudim, even though, unfortunately, many shuls might not receive the support they need any other way. Regardless, if a shul expects payment for an aliya, they should certainly be up front about it before offering one to a newcomer, and if they aren't up front about it, they should first receive his consent before making even a bli neder declaration about his intention to make a donation.
Needless to say, I was put off by the Gabbai's behavior, and I went back and forth in my mind if I should be a good sport and make a token donation or take the strict approach. Ultimately I decided that if after davening someone (preferably the Gabbai) would welcome me more informally I would reciprocate the gesture, otherwise not.
Well, no one said a word to me after davening. They filed out with nary a glance in my direction, let alone any words of welcome. The Gabbai made sure that I would feel a responsibility to give money and have an easy time doing so, but made not the slightest effort to make me feel wanted for anything more than my donation. I contemplated sending a token donation with a note expressing my feelings, but didn't care to dedicate the time and effort.
The envelope was deposited in a trash bin on the way home.
Speaking of the journey home, it was a 15 minute walk through two Jerusalem neighborhoods with a park in between. Along the way I passed Jews of many ages, shapes, and sizes. Some walked alone, some with a spouse, some with friends, some with children. Not a single person wished me a good Shabbos. Almost none of them even made eye contact with me so that I could wish them a good Shabbos first. One person did make brief eye contact with me; I wished him a good Shabbos and he walked right by me without a reply.
I became very discouraged. This was Jerusalem, for goodness sake, the capital of Israel and the holiest city in the world! What was wrong with all these people?
I exited the park and saw a young man approaching from the other direction. He was wearing an undershirt and shorts and holding a basketball. As we came within a few feet of each other he wished me a Shabbat Shalom. I was so startled that I hope I managed to return his greeting in time for him to hear it. I glanced behind me and noticed that he was also not wearing a Yarmulka.
The rest of the way home was business as usual -- no eye contact, no greetings, noticed by passersby just enough so they wouldn't bump into me. The only Shabbos greeting I received from the dozens of people I encountered in shul and on the way was from the one person who didn't observe Shabbos, at least not completely.
In my opinion, he was the frummest of the bunch.
After I returned to my seat he came by and dropped off a pre-addressed envelope.
I have long been unhappy with the common practice to sell kibudim, even though, unfortunately, many shuls might not receive the support they need any other way. Regardless, if a shul expects payment for an aliya, they should certainly be up front about it before offering one to a newcomer, and if they aren't up front about it, they should first receive his consent before making even a bli neder declaration about his intention to make a donation.
Needless to say, I was put off by the Gabbai's behavior, and I went back and forth in my mind if I should be a good sport and make a token donation or take the strict approach. Ultimately I decided that if after davening someone (preferably the Gabbai) would welcome me more informally I would reciprocate the gesture, otherwise not.
Well, no one said a word to me after davening. They filed out with nary a glance in my direction, let alone any words of welcome. The Gabbai made sure that I would feel a responsibility to give money and have an easy time doing so, but made not the slightest effort to make me feel wanted for anything more than my donation. I contemplated sending a token donation with a note expressing my feelings, but didn't care to dedicate the time and effort.
The envelope was deposited in a trash bin on the way home.
Speaking of the journey home, it was a 15 minute walk through two Jerusalem neighborhoods with a park in between. Along the way I passed Jews of many ages, shapes, and sizes. Some walked alone, some with a spouse, some with friends, some with children. Not a single person wished me a good Shabbos. Almost none of them even made eye contact with me so that I could wish them a good Shabbos first. One person did make brief eye contact with me; I wished him a good Shabbos and he walked right by me without a reply.
I became very discouraged. This was Jerusalem, for goodness sake, the capital of Israel and the holiest city in the world! What was wrong with all these people?
I exited the park and saw a young man approaching from the other direction. He was wearing an undershirt and shorts and holding a basketball. As we came within a few feet of each other he wished me a Shabbat Shalom. I was so startled that I hope I managed to return his greeting in time for him to hear it. I glanced behind me and noticed that he was also not wearing a Yarmulka.
The rest of the way home was business as usual -- no eye contact, no greetings, noticed by passersby just enough so they wouldn't bump into me. The only Shabbos greeting I received from the dozens of people I encountered in shul and on the way was from the one person who didn't observe Shabbos, at least not completely.
In my opinion, he was the frummest of the bunch.
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
God...Or Santa Clause?
I had a discussion this week in which someone related the following advice from a popular seminary teacher in Israel: get into the habit of asking God to help you with all your little problems. For example, ask God to help you do well on that test, to help you find the iPod you misplaced, etc. This will help us remember that God is always there to help us with our problems and will help us build a relationship with Him.
I objected that this is an incredibly simplistic approach to prayer, and the only relationship that one can expect to build with this approach is like that of a child with Santa Clause. We ask for what we want and he (hopefully) gives it to us.
I won't go guns ablaze on the person who reportedly taught this, since his words may have been misquoted or taken out of context. Furthermore, there is definitely value in turning to Hashem for even seemingly mundane things -- provided that we have our priorities in the right place and ask for these things through a desire to be able to serve Hashem better.
For example, I've asked Hashem to help me have a good softball game, particularly when I've felt a little out of it. Of course I realize that in the grand scheme of things it's not very important whether or not I have a good game, and of course there are countless more important things we all need to daven for. However, if I do recognize that, and if having a good game will help me have some entirely permitted enjoyment, and if it will help improve my spirits to some degree, what harm is there in bringing Hashem even into this relatively trivial activity? It certainly doesn't preclude me from davening for those more important things, nor does it place equal importance upon them.
The real problem with the reported suggestion of that teacher is that it changes the focus of prayer from what it really is and is supposed to be to a self-serving activity -- in fact, the direct opposite of what prayer is supposed to be. The young adults are not being taught to pray for these things because it will help settle their minds and thereby facilitate their avodas Hashem. Rather, they are being taught to bring Hashem into their lives in a minimal fashion that is actually antithetical to the relationship that is supposed to be fostered by prayer.
One of the primary roles of Tefilla is to "pay our debts" to Hashem through our inability to bring Korbanos. The avoda that we perform through davening -- and it is avoda -- is modeled in many ways after the avoda in the Beis Hamikdash, as this is the best we can do. Understanding this helps us to understand Tefilla.
Generally speaking, an individual may bring a Korban for one of the following reasons:
1) Atonement for a sin (Chatas, Asham, Olah)
2) An expression of gratitude (Sh'lamim)
3) A desire to raise one's spiritual level, rejoice in Hashem and serving Him, or to become closer to Hashem (Sh'lamim, Olah)
There is no Korban for one who has a list of requests.
Furthermore, the overwhelming majority of our Tefilla consists of praises to Hashem. The most important part of Shemona Esrei is the first 3 Brachos, which consist of praises to Hashem. Even the request-oriented Brachos are laced with praises.
Do you want to teach your children how to daven properly? Teach them how to praise Hashem. Teach them how to worship Hashem. Then, and only then, will they be adequately prepared to ask Hashem for their personal needs and have their request given favorable attention.
Many people seem to think that the only way to get that sullen teenager to daven is to "make it worth his while" by making a Santa Clause figure out of God. This is likely to work only as long as Santa Clause delivers, and I've still yet to meet the person who receives everything on his wish list in a timely fashion. Furthermore, this self-serving relationship is unlikely to develop into what it is really meant to be -- serving Hashem instead of oneself.
Better than nothing? Better than not davening at all or merely davening by rote? I don't think so, since it is much harder to undo the wrong lessons than to teach the right ones and allow them to kick in when the individual is ready.
Teach the disaffected teenager that it's okay to ask Hashem for the things we want, but we really need to ask Hashem what HE wants from US. Ask Him to enlighten us as to our mission in life and the path we should take. Ask Him to help make us better people and better servants. Ask Him to give us what we need to make the journey easier, more pleasant, more fulfilling, and, ultimately, more successful (including that iPod). Then one will have a genuine relationship with his God.
Also teach him to say thank you, and to mean it. Saying thank you is basic etiquette. Meaning it means that one recognizes, truly recognizes, that the fulfillment of one's desire is a blessing from Hashem. You're no smarter or more industrious than the next person who desired the same thing and didn't get it. And if you are, you have Hashem to thank for that, too. So make sure you don't take credit that doesn't belong to you. Then your relationship with God will be appropriate -- not that of a spoiled child taking from Santa Clause, but that of a child grateful to a parent and a servant grateful to his master.
I realized the following as I composed this in my mind. We daven to Hashem for rain in Israel, especially following years of severe drought. This year has been an especially rainy one. It would be most appropriate for us to both continue to daven for the rain that is still needed while ALSO thanking Hashem for bringing so much rain these last few weeks. This sort of thing comes naturally (or should) in our relationships with people. Kal vachomer in our relationship with God.
I objected that this is an incredibly simplistic approach to prayer, and the only relationship that one can expect to build with this approach is like that of a child with Santa Clause. We ask for what we want and he (hopefully) gives it to us.
I won't go guns ablaze on the person who reportedly taught this, since his words may have been misquoted or taken out of context. Furthermore, there is definitely value in turning to Hashem for even seemingly mundane things -- provided that we have our priorities in the right place and ask for these things through a desire to be able to serve Hashem better.
For example, I've asked Hashem to help me have a good softball game, particularly when I've felt a little out of it. Of course I realize that in the grand scheme of things it's not very important whether or not I have a good game, and of course there are countless more important things we all need to daven for. However, if I do recognize that, and if having a good game will help me have some entirely permitted enjoyment, and if it will help improve my spirits to some degree, what harm is there in bringing Hashem even into this relatively trivial activity? It certainly doesn't preclude me from davening for those more important things, nor does it place equal importance upon them.
The real problem with the reported suggestion of that teacher is that it changes the focus of prayer from what it really is and is supposed to be to a self-serving activity -- in fact, the direct opposite of what prayer is supposed to be. The young adults are not being taught to pray for these things because it will help settle their minds and thereby facilitate their avodas Hashem. Rather, they are being taught to bring Hashem into their lives in a minimal fashion that is actually antithetical to the relationship that is supposed to be fostered by prayer.
One of the primary roles of Tefilla is to "pay our debts" to Hashem through our inability to bring Korbanos. The avoda that we perform through davening -- and it is avoda -- is modeled in many ways after the avoda in the Beis Hamikdash, as this is the best we can do. Understanding this helps us to understand Tefilla.
Generally speaking, an individual may bring a Korban for one of the following reasons:
1) Atonement for a sin (Chatas, Asham, Olah)
2) An expression of gratitude (Sh'lamim)
3) A desire to raise one's spiritual level, rejoice in Hashem and serving Him, or to become closer to Hashem (Sh'lamim, Olah)
There is no Korban for one who has a list of requests.
Furthermore, the overwhelming majority of our Tefilla consists of praises to Hashem. The most important part of Shemona Esrei is the first 3 Brachos, which consist of praises to Hashem. Even the request-oriented Brachos are laced with praises.
Do you want to teach your children how to daven properly? Teach them how to praise Hashem. Teach them how to worship Hashem. Then, and only then, will they be adequately prepared to ask Hashem for their personal needs and have their request given favorable attention.
Many people seem to think that the only way to get that sullen teenager to daven is to "make it worth his while" by making a Santa Clause figure out of God. This is likely to work only as long as Santa Clause delivers, and I've still yet to meet the person who receives everything on his wish list in a timely fashion. Furthermore, this self-serving relationship is unlikely to develop into what it is really meant to be -- serving Hashem instead of oneself.
Better than nothing? Better than not davening at all or merely davening by rote? I don't think so, since it is much harder to undo the wrong lessons than to teach the right ones and allow them to kick in when the individual is ready.
Teach the disaffected teenager that it's okay to ask Hashem for the things we want, but we really need to ask Hashem what HE wants from US. Ask Him to enlighten us as to our mission in life and the path we should take. Ask Him to help make us better people and better servants. Ask Him to give us what we need to make the journey easier, more pleasant, more fulfilling, and, ultimately, more successful (including that iPod). Then one will have a genuine relationship with his God.
Also teach him to say thank you, and to mean it. Saying thank you is basic etiquette. Meaning it means that one recognizes, truly recognizes, that the fulfillment of one's desire is a blessing from Hashem. You're no smarter or more industrious than the next person who desired the same thing and didn't get it. And if you are, you have Hashem to thank for that, too. So make sure you don't take credit that doesn't belong to you. Then your relationship with God will be appropriate -- not that of a spoiled child taking from Santa Clause, but that of a child grateful to a parent and a servant grateful to his master.
I realized the following as I composed this in my mind. We daven to Hashem for rain in Israel, especially following years of severe drought. This year has been an especially rainy one. It would be most appropriate for us to both continue to daven for the rain that is still needed while ALSO thanking Hashem for bringing so much rain these last few weeks. This sort of thing comes naturally (or should) in our relationships with people. Kal vachomer in our relationship with God.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Why a blog? Why me? Why now?
I've always been leery of the blog world, for reasons that are shared by many. Yet, after years of scorning blogs and resisting occasional suggestions to start one, here I am doing just that for many of the same reasons:
1) Lack of quality control
In principle quality control is a good thing. We want to believe that when we pick up a newspaper or periodical we are reading material that is accurate, polished, and worthy of significant attention. We want to believe that the time and money we invest in reading this material will prove a worthy investment. We trust editors to deliver to us this high-quality content and filter out what we don't care to see.
But the editor does more than decide what we see and what we don't; the presence of an editor provides an important gateway between the writer's inspiration and the published word.
We've all written emails and clicked on the "send" button a fraction of a second before wanting to edit something or take it back altogether. Sometimes the consequences could have disastrous personal or professional ramifications. Sometimes it would be very convenient to have a trusted editor review that email before clicking the "send" button for us.
Of course that isn't feasible, but the difference between email and blogging is that blogging is generally meant for a wider audience. Blogging allows for anyone to write anything and publish it instantly for a potentially large audience. This lack of quality control doesn't only mean that all sorts of junk doesn't get filtered out. It means that even the good writers can dispense with a time-delay from idea to public announcement to allow that idea to gestate properly.
Sure, responsible people will institute their own quality control measures, but that takes seriousness, integrity, patience, good judgment, humility, and discipline. Not exactly the common standard, and not a place I'm comfortable hanging out.
2) Lots of idiots making lots of noise
This is similar to #1, but what I refer to specifically here is the fact that blogs tend not to provide good forums for intelligent and meaningful discussion. It's like being in a large auditorium with dozens or hundreds of people all speaking at once, all vying for attention, all trying to outdo the next person with some witty line or clever put-down, all with their own agenda, all trying to steer the discussion in a different direction. Oh, and the auditorium is pitch black, so you don't even see who you're talking to and have no basis for determining the credibility of the person behind the opinion.
It's like being at one of those large Shabbos meals with three different discussions going on at once, only exponentially larger and the other guests haven't been chosen for their ability to contribute to the discussion or the atmosphere.
These aren't places I'd like to find myself, which is why I rarely get involved in discussions on blogs. I like to know who I'm speaking with, and I like to know the discussion is more than a perverse sort of entertainment for the others involved. Otherwise, I have better things to do, and if I don't, I should. So should they.
3) It's just too much
Also similar to #1, but the specific point here is that one can get completely drowned in a sea of blogs with no end to it. I acknowledge that this is not the most rational concern; I feel the same way walking into a library and staring at thousands of books that I know I will never read, yet feeling that there is so much treasure that I will necessarily miss.
Is that a reason to read nothing? Of course not. We learn Torah with the understanding that we can never finish, and that most of us will barely even make a dent, yet we try to prepare a personal curriculum that is meaningful to us and will help us progress. Blogs offer the same opportunity. Surely there are great blogs out there that would be just great for us on an individual basis, and we should focus more on that positive than throwing away the whole thing because it's just too big.
Still, it really is just too big, and I don't want to get lost in some online, semi-real world with no end to it.
4) It lacks a human element
Say what you will about connecting with people all over the world, but there's no substitute for having a connection with real people in person. There is a different dynamic when one gives a Dvar Torah to a group of people than when one posts it on a web site. Call it quantity versus quality if you will. But whatever you call it, it just isn't the same.
5) Blogging is a narcissistic endeavor
Look at me! Look at my blog! I'm so smart, witty, and important! I have lots of followers! I own this conversation! I'm going to promote myself and my blog at every opportunity! You should too!
-----
Yet, here I am starting a blog. Here's why, in response to each of the above.
1) I'm fed up with editors. This is nothing new. I've been fed up with them since I started dealing with them as a teenager; my high school yearbook quote is "Though an angel should write, / still ’tis devils must print" (Thomas Moore). I say only semi-facetiously that most of the time editors should just get out of the way and let me do my thing.
The problem is that editors don't do this. Editors shouldn't do this. And even when they should, rare is the editor who doesn't feel the burning need to get his fingerprints on everything he publishes. They don't seem able to just leave something alone and let it be. They have to tweak and tinker if only to justify their existence.
And I would estimate that only 10% of the time is their tweak or tinker an actual improvement. If the writer is lucky it's neutral (in which case the change should also not be made; let the writer speak in his own voice whenever possible).
This can be mildly irritating or seriously frustrating, but sometimes editors make significant alterations without even running it by the writer. They may feel this is their right or their responsibility, or they may feel that these changes are not so significant, but I'm not starting this blog to rationalize for editors. I've been driven to this in large part because of such practices.
I'll discuss a few incidents in more detail in a post devoted to it and censorship in general.
Bottom line: when the quality control is more control than quality, it's time to look for a new outlet.
2) Lots of idiots making lots of noise? No doubt. I'm hoping the intelligent voices will be heard above the fray.
One item to note at the outset is that this won't be like many blogs where Anonymous can have long, unintelligent conversations with himself. You know who I am. If you have something to comment, I'd like you to remove your superhero mask too.
3) This blog will not become my life. I see at as a place for me to be able write freely and fully, hopefully for an audience that is interested in that. My vision is to post something of moderate length on average once a week or so, and smaller items along the way. I'm not going to post just for the sake of posting, since that isn't worthwhile for me or for you. I also never wrote articles just to have my name in the newspaper, and turned down gigs that would potentially force me to write just for the sake of writing. That's not why I do this.
4) I'm hoping this blog will reach real people and make a difference. It will hopefully be a springboard for meaningful human interaction. Anonymous and superjew28 are not invited.
5) What can I say, to a certain extent this is a narcissistic endeavor. It's unavoidable. I believe I have ideas worth writing and sharing, and I'm hoping people will devote some of their time to reading them and participating. But I can say that is more idea-driven than ego-driven, and if the yetzer hara has some part in bringing this to life, so be it. We're supposed to use the yetzer hara for good things.
-----
This blog will be devoted in large part to projecting the authentic Torah values that are often glaringly absent from our society, with the hope of opening eyes, educating, and providing support for those who feel lost in a world gone mad. Particular focus will be devoted to the shidduch world, with plenty of attention also given to Israel, Jewish education, and general Jewish issues.
But the above is a general theme more than a rule. What I'll really post is what may move me at any given time. The above categories frequently move me, so they will be ever-present, but this will be an eclectic blog. I hope it will always be interesting, thought-provoking, entertaining, and engaging.
Hello out there.
1) Lack of quality control
In principle quality control is a good thing. We want to believe that when we pick up a newspaper or periodical we are reading material that is accurate, polished, and worthy of significant attention. We want to believe that the time and money we invest in reading this material will prove a worthy investment. We trust editors to deliver to us this high-quality content and filter out what we don't care to see.
But the editor does more than decide what we see and what we don't; the presence of an editor provides an important gateway between the writer's inspiration and the published word.
We've all written emails and clicked on the "send" button a fraction of a second before wanting to edit something or take it back altogether. Sometimes the consequences could have disastrous personal or professional ramifications. Sometimes it would be very convenient to have a trusted editor review that email before clicking the "send" button for us.
Of course that isn't feasible, but the difference between email and blogging is that blogging is generally meant for a wider audience. Blogging allows for anyone to write anything and publish it instantly for a potentially large audience. This lack of quality control doesn't only mean that all sorts of junk doesn't get filtered out. It means that even the good writers can dispense with a time-delay from idea to public announcement to allow that idea to gestate properly.
Sure, responsible people will institute their own quality control measures, but that takes seriousness, integrity, patience, good judgment, humility, and discipline. Not exactly the common standard, and not a place I'm comfortable hanging out.
2) Lots of idiots making lots of noise
This is similar to #1, but what I refer to specifically here is the fact that blogs tend not to provide good forums for intelligent and meaningful discussion. It's like being in a large auditorium with dozens or hundreds of people all speaking at once, all vying for attention, all trying to outdo the next person with some witty line or clever put-down, all with their own agenda, all trying to steer the discussion in a different direction. Oh, and the auditorium is pitch black, so you don't even see who you're talking to and have no basis for determining the credibility of the person behind the opinion.
It's like being at one of those large Shabbos meals with three different discussions going on at once, only exponentially larger and the other guests haven't been chosen for their ability to contribute to the discussion or the atmosphere.
These aren't places I'd like to find myself, which is why I rarely get involved in discussions on blogs. I like to know who I'm speaking with, and I like to know the discussion is more than a perverse sort of entertainment for the others involved. Otherwise, I have better things to do, and if I don't, I should. So should they.
3) It's just too much
Also similar to #1, but the specific point here is that one can get completely drowned in a sea of blogs with no end to it. I acknowledge that this is not the most rational concern; I feel the same way walking into a library and staring at thousands of books that I know I will never read, yet feeling that there is so much treasure that I will necessarily miss.
Is that a reason to read nothing? Of course not. We learn Torah with the understanding that we can never finish, and that most of us will barely even make a dent, yet we try to prepare a personal curriculum that is meaningful to us and will help us progress. Blogs offer the same opportunity. Surely there are great blogs out there that would be just great for us on an individual basis, and we should focus more on that positive than throwing away the whole thing because it's just too big.
Still, it really is just too big, and I don't want to get lost in some online, semi-real world with no end to it.
4) It lacks a human element
Say what you will about connecting with people all over the world, but there's no substitute for having a connection with real people in person. There is a different dynamic when one gives a Dvar Torah to a group of people than when one posts it on a web site. Call it quantity versus quality if you will. But whatever you call it, it just isn't the same.
5) Blogging is a narcissistic endeavor
Look at me! Look at my blog! I'm so smart, witty, and important! I have lots of followers! I own this conversation! I'm going to promote myself and my blog at every opportunity! You should too!
-----
Yet, here I am starting a blog. Here's why, in response to each of the above.
1) I'm fed up with editors. This is nothing new. I've been fed up with them since I started dealing with them as a teenager; my high school yearbook quote is "Though an angel should write, / still ’tis devils must print" (Thomas Moore). I say only semi-facetiously that most of the time editors should just get out of the way and let me do my thing.
The problem is that editors don't do this. Editors shouldn't do this. And even when they should, rare is the editor who doesn't feel the burning need to get his fingerprints on everything he publishes. They don't seem able to just leave something alone and let it be. They have to tweak and tinker if only to justify their existence.
And I would estimate that only 10% of the time is their tweak or tinker an actual improvement. If the writer is lucky it's neutral (in which case the change should also not be made; let the writer speak in his own voice whenever possible).
This can be mildly irritating or seriously frustrating, but sometimes editors make significant alterations without even running it by the writer. They may feel this is their right or their responsibility, or they may feel that these changes are not so significant, but I'm not starting this blog to rationalize for editors. I've been driven to this in large part because of such practices.
I'll discuss a few incidents in more detail in a post devoted to it and censorship in general.
Bottom line: when the quality control is more control than quality, it's time to look for a new outlet.
2) Lots of idiots making lots of noise? No doubt. I'm hoping the intelligent voices will be heard above the fray.
One item to note at the outset is that this won't be like many blogs where Anonymous can have long, unintelligent conversations with himself. You know who I am. If you have something to comment, I'd like you to remove your superhero mask too.
3) This blog will not become my life. I see at as a place for me to be able write freely and fully, hopefully for an audience that is interested in that. My vision is to post something of moderate length on average once a week or so, and smaller items along the way. I'm not going to post just for the sake of posting, since that isn't worthwhile for me or for you. I also never wrote articles just to have my name in the newspaper, and turned down gigs that would potentially force me to write just for the sake of writing. That's not why I do this.
4) I'm hoping this blog will reach real people and make a difference. It will hopefully be a springboard for meaningful human interaction. Anonymous and superjew28 are not invited.
5) What can I say, to a certain extent this is a narcissistic endeavor. It's unavoidable. I believe I have ideas worth writing and sharing, and I'm hoping people will devote some of their time to reading them and participating. But I can say that is more idea-driven than ego-driven, and if the yetzer hara has some part in bringing this to life, so be it. We're supposed to use the yetzer hara for good things.
-----
This blog will be devoted in large part to projecting the authentic Torah values that are often glaringly absent from our society, with the hope of opening eyes, educating, and providing support for those who feel lost in a world gone mad. Particular focus will be devoted to the shidduch world, with plenty of attention also given to Israel, Jewish education, and general Jewish issues.
But the above is a general theme more than a rule. What I'll really post is what may move me at any given time. The above categories frequently move me, so they will be ever-present, but this will be an eclectic blog. I hope it will always be interesting, thought-provoking, entertaining, and engaging.
Hello out there.
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