PESACH - OY, THE AGONY! OY, THE ECSTASY!

Now with Purim safely behind us, it's time to address ourselves to that wonderful festival, the celebration of our release from bondage, our emergence as a nation, the Festival of the Matzot, delight of Jewish children and bane of the Jewish housewife. Yes, it's almost PesAAARGH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE STUDY EATING A COOKIE?! I TOLD YOU NEVER TO WALK OUT OF THE KITCHEN WITHOUT BRUSHING OFF THE CRUMBS, WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO GET LISTENED TO AROUND HERE, GO BACK NOW, DROP THE COOKIE, NO DON'T DROP THE COOKIE, EAT IT IN THE GARDEN! Where was I? Sorry, something comes over me in the post-Purim pre-Pesach interval. If there was ever a user-hostile festival, this is it. Don't get me wrong, I get as sentimental and moved by the grandeur of the Exodus as the next Jew, but only after the whole celebration is over and is only a dim memory - a bit like giving birth, really.

Talking about release from bondage; that may be true for some, but if scrubbing out the under-sink cupboard on one's hands and knees with a toothbrush isn't slavery, I don't know what is. It's times like these that you know G-d isn't a woman.

Look, for all my bellyaching, I'd have to admit that once the cleaning, shopping and cooking is over, I really enjoy Pesach. It is a time full of symbolism, of purification of the soul as well as of the home, and very spiritually uplifting. The only problem is that the cleaning, shopping and cooking are never over, and every time I sit down I fall asleep from exhaustion. The real miracle of Pesach is that I don't burn off all the calories from the chocolate and macaroons by running around like a lunatic.

I can't even really complain about the Pesach food. I even like hand-made shmurah matza, but then I eat anything, and my mother always told me how I used to enjoy chewing cardboard as a baby. And what can compare to a Seder? Where else can you watch some obscure male relative turn bright blue and speechless because he underestimated the Maror (macho horseradish to the uninformed)? When else do Jews officially condone passing out and sliding under the table because of four cups of treacherously sweet wine, because only wimps drink grape juice? How many dinner parties have you been to where you stuff yourselves with lettuce sandwiches, potatoes and hard-boiled eggs after waiting 2 hours for the food, and that's even before the real meal starts? No, sorry, if you like gourmet cooking, give the Seder a miss.

But then there's the musical entertainment, starting from when the well-prompted Nachasel of a four-year-old is struck by terminal stage-fright during MaNishtana (the Four Questions) right through to the quaint folk melodies about solitary goats eaten by cats which are killed by dogs which are trampled by oxen which are beaten by sticks etc etc. (Seems to lose something in translation.)

All right, so we all know that Pesach is hard work, but does it help to kvetch about it? Besides, what really gets my goat (small Seder joke) are the smug Balabostas who are always ahead of you. They are K le P right down to the sterilised fridge TWO WEEKS before you are. They have filled their freezers with everything down to the potato flour lokshen, and use all their free time telling you about it. What's the point? All they've done is condemn their families to eating meals out in the garden so as to keep the house crumbless. Do they install laminar air flow devices in their doorways to ensure that no chometz (forbidden leaven) drifts in on their children? Bunch of obsessives, the lot of them. I wish they'd tell me how they did it. HEY, YOU! YES, YOU WITH THE CRACKER HANGING OUT OF YOUR MOUTH! WHAT ARE YOU, DEAF?! DIDN'T I JUST TELL YOU TO STAY IN THE KITCHEN? OK, SO GO ALREADY!!  Best wishes to all of you for a relaxed, Kosher and happy PesAAARGH! WHO LET THE BABY INTO THE BEDROOM WITH A SANDWICH?

FETISHISING PREGNANCY, OBJECTIFYING BABIES

I subscribe to a magazine called Practical Parenting which I originally thought to put in my waiting room for mums to read. But it turns out that business is so quiet I am so efficient that my patients rarely have to wait to see me. So I read the magazine myself, usually in the bathroom.

Well, it is not bad. It does impart information in a breezy, informal sort of way, with plenty of cute baby photos and in-house doctor, nurse, sleep specialist, dietitian etc giving lots of good advice, and mums Q&A, etc. And of course a lot- A LOT- of advertising for baby-related commodities. I mean nearly half the magazine is dedicated to ads, which is a bit much considering it is not a free publication. But never mind.

So this is all very nice, except for the one thing that just annoys me more and more: those dreamy romantic shots of mother caressing her belly and smiling down at it. Said belly is usually exposed for added effect. OK, also those cute shots of older child kissing belly, usually self-consciously looking at the camera, are also a bit- how can I put it- nauseating. The hairy strong man arms caressing from behind also give me the bleeaagghhs.

 

This fetishising of the pregnant belly can only occur where women don’t have many children. Sure, every child is precious and every pregnancy is a miracle yada yada, but if it’s your 3^rd or 4^th, who has time to sit dreamily and be photographed? And what’s with these pix? People actually have photographers make these photos, and then- where do you display them?

And then there is the plaster-cast of the boobs and bump. Who on Earth thought of this? Who wants to immortalize this, and again, where do you display this? Do YOU want to look at some woman’s belly and boobs up on a wall?

And now, there is the belly cake! For baby showers, of course. I already am creeped out by baby showers, which are the biggest invitation for the Ayin HaRah (Evil Eye) that I can think of. My mother, z”l, who tied red threads on everything and spat 3 times at least 10 times a day in order to avoid the ‘Gitte Oig’ (means ‘good eye’ in Yiddish; she was so superstitious, she wouldn’t even mention the Evil Eye for fear of attracting it. Kind of like Voldemort) would be horrified by the idea of a baby shower. But there are some people who will order a cake in the shape of a pregnant belly for the shower! Check this out:

http://www.trendhunter.com/trends/pregnant-belly-cakes-baby-shower-bakery#!/photos/40924/1

Now, apart from the actual grossness of such a cake, tell me, would you eat it? And where would you cut it? Classical Caesarian? Or lower uterine segment incision? I wonder what sort of cake is under that icing, strawberries and cream? Mmmm! Maybe when you cut into it, you pierce a bag full of raspberry syrup and it goes everywhere, like the real thing! Yum! Is there an edible doll inside? I’ll have the leg! I’m being silly.

OK, so the baby is born, and, in most cases, I would imagine the heart-shaped rose-tinted glasses are stripped away, and you have a baby. EEEK! What now?? Well, let’s get an Anne Geddes wannabe to photograph our precious baby.

Let’s put her in a flowerpot, even better if there are twins or more, and let’s have her naked with fairy wings and lay her on a pumpkin. Let’s suspend her off a bough, loosely wrapped in muslin, like the Rock-a-bye Baby song! Or make a bundle and hang her from a stork’s beak! Witty! I’m guessing the babies weren’t really dangling, it was some sort of montage, or they were laid flat on a surface and photographed from above. But still.

Anne Geddes started this trend about 15 years ago, and her many imitators have gone from bad to worse. I quote Ms Geddes:

"I had seen the way children and babies were generally being photographed. It just didn't seem realistic to me that people took their children along to photographic studios all dressed in their Sunday best, photographs that didn't really show the personality of the child."

So it’s much more realistic to, say, dress baby as a leopard and lay her on a log, sleeping. Or, my personal favorite, take a chubby black baby, place him in a basin of custard, put a sprig of holly on his head, and call the picture ‘Pudding’. I saw this picture in an AG calendar years ago. The child has this totally bewildered expression on his face. And it was that photo which opened my eyes to the fact that Ms Geddes was exploiting and objectifying babies in a way that was quite offensive, even while being sort of cute. It is interesting to note that this photo does not come up when you Google her pictures, and I wonder if even she thought it was pushing the limits of taste.

Or how about placing the sleeping baby, lying prone and in fetal position, on her naked mother’s belly! With her head on her mother’s pubis! Just like she was lying before birth! You have to see this picture to appreciate the grossness of it. (Just Google Anne Geddes images, sorry I lack the techspertise to bring it to you in all its glory.)

She started off ok, with sleeping babies and things

http://www.google.com.au/imgres?q=anne+geddes&hl=en&client=safari&sa=X&rls=en&biw=1084&bih=542&tbm=isch&prmd=imvnsoa&tbnid=-Ax8320g7ZEFYM:&imgrefurl=http://www.reocities.com/iambeltane/anne2.html&docid=u84AMj0wL0qohM&imgurl=http://www.reocities.com/iambeltane/babyhands.jpg&w=478&h=339&ei=M6NpT4n0N6yOiAeJ1rySCg&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=303&vpy=4&dur=85&hovh=189&hovw=267&tx=100&ty=88&sig=112266348956908694401&page=2&tbnh=149&tbnw=197&start=10&ndsp=15&ved=1t:429,r:1,s:10

 but it got out of hand.

http://www.google.com.au/imgres?q=anne+geddes&hl=en&client=safari&sa=X&rls=en&biw=1084&bih=542&tbm=isch&prmd=imvnsoa&tbnid=EV0RicVLrntq5M:&imgrefurl=http://www.posters.co.uk/Anne-Geddes/24598&docid=2ZO8Yf7gYwz5HM&imgurl=http://imagecache6.allposters.com/LRG/22/2221/VUNAD00Z.jpg&w=400&h=300&ei=M6NpT4n0N6yOiAeJ1rySCg&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=126&vpy=121&dur=77&hovh=194&hovw=259&tx=134&ty=145&sig=112266348956908694401&page=3&tbnh=157&tbnw=230&start=25&ndsp=12&ved=1t:429,r:0,s:25

The Onion spoofed her with a 2001 article called ‘Anne Geddes is starting to lose it’ with a picture of a baby dressed as Hitler. Now, that’s Onion-funny. That would for sure keep away the Evil Eye!

http://o.onionstatic.com/images/articles/article/8875/Anne-Geddes_jpg_630x1200_upscale_q85.jpg

HOW TO ALIENATE THOUSANDS OF JEWISH SINGLES

Well, the article I am referring to should have been called this. But it was called ‘Purim and the Tyranny of Beauty: A Plea to Mothers of Girls in Shidduchim’ (http://www,jewishpress.com/sections/family/purim-and-the-tyranny-of-beauty-a-plea-to-mothers-of-girls-in-shidduchim/2012/03/19/)

 I was sent this link by my (single) daughter, who, by the way, is very pretty, but more importantly, she is a mensch and generally has a great sense of humor. But she wasn’t laughing about this piece.

Yitta Halberstam starts off quite defensively, saying ‘I know I’m going to be crucified’, which intrigued me, as I thought from the title that it was going to be the voice of liberation from the ‘tyranny of beauty’, or it would be an ironic Purim piece; but was I wrong.

What it is, is an indictment of the shidduch process. In my recent rant post, I touched on things like gender imbalance and unrealistic expectations and ‘Hollywoodization’ of the singles’ mindset. I made a mistake though. I didn’t discuss the fascism of the mothers and others.

The initial premise of the piece is, in itself, staggering. After recognition of ‘the shidduch crisis’, a ‘fascinating new shidduch initiative’ is described: Mothers of eligible young men were to be brought together with young women looking for shidduchim for, essentially, speed dating. No other word for it. Oh, in ‘a balabatish setting and a dignified way.’ As if there could be any dignity for the girls in this scenario.

The author demurs; she didn’t need to be there because she has this WONDERFUL son who is ‘in perpetual demand’, and ‘is learning full-time and plans to pursue a PhD’- oy, I can hear the kvelling- and the girls at this sorry excuse for a meat market  wonderful, dignified event were all looking for ‘learning boys’, so they can work 2 jobs for the rest of their lives while having child after child…oops, sorry, I’m ranting again. Well, Yitta, honey, your boychick may be the crème de la crème, but he’s still single until he’s actually married, capische?

Anyway, back to the shvigger speed dating evening. On entering the lovely, dignified, balbatish room, the author was struck by 2 things: the sheer number of girls who were courageous (and desperate) enough to show up; and ‘the conspicuous and glaring lack of make-up on a significant percentage of the girls’ faces’ [bold and italics as published in the article.]

Well, I won’t pick her grammar apart here (what, each girl only made up 2/3 of her face? I know what she is trying to say.) But how is THAT for an in-depth appraisal of one’s future daughter-in-law? ‘They were, eidel, frum, sincere, intelligent, and committed to the learning ideal. But even the most temimasdika ben Torah is looking for a wife whom he finds attractive.’

The sheer irony, of course, is that it is not at all what the boy finds attractive; it is what his mother finds attractive that is being judged.

She tells her story of being a plump 19 year old with frizzy hair and a big nose who had no dating success until she was advised by her mentor to go on a diet, straighten her hair and get a nose job. And this gave her confidence to improve herself and I guess she found her prince. And the cred to have the chutzpah to tell others to do the same. Backed up by the opinion of the ‘heilike Satmar Rebbe t”zl.’

I’m not a hypocrite. I do think that we should make the most of our looks in general. I’m an old bag but I still make an effort with my appearance, with make-up and shaytel and clothes, up to a point. I do recognize the ‘look good, feel better’ ethos. I do recognize the ‘tyranny of beauty’. But we are getting seriously lost in the shidduch process if we think that the solution to the ‘crisis’ is having girls appraised by their future mothers-in-law in this cattle market. Dress it up how you want, call it ‘balbatish and dignified’, it is no better than that. Oh, we are so ‘penimiasdik’, oh, the glory of the king’s daughter is within, oh, we scorn the superficialities of the secular world…but is she pretty? Is she a size 2?

I have a better idea! Let’s have the mothers of the boys interview the mothers of the girls! After all, they say that the girl becomes her mother eventually! So is the mother pretty? Is she a size 2? Is she a total bitch? Are you, mother of boy?

My sister-in-law is a Gerrer, and she interviews her sons’ prospective Kallah, after much research, in a quiet place, before she agrees to the match; the boys then date 2, and in one case, 3 times (risqué!) and then the next time they see each other is under the chuppah. It works for her and her boys. It sort of horrifies me, and the whole Gerrer attitude to intimate relations is pretty scary, from what I have heard, but it works for them, it seems, who knows. That is one thing, but these en masse interview evenings are a whole other world of appalling. And you will be happy to know that there are more planned, for mothers of ‘working boys’, as opposed to ‘learning boys’ etc.

I was a plump 24 year old with a medical degree, working as an intern, when I was introduced (by a FRIEND, see earlier post) to my husband-to-be. I had no money, no yichus, and I was – gasp- size 14 (size 12 US). And after our first date, my husband reports that his mother asked if I was ‘as fat as ______ ‘[his sister, who was not really so fat and in fact, thinner than me], and he answered, honestly, ‘I didn’t notice’. So no prize guessing what the outcome would have been if it was my mother-in-law I was dating!

‘Thankfully, everyone’s conception of attractiveness is different; beauty is in the eyes [sic] of the beholder’, Yitta simpers, ‘and a woman’s intellect, personality and soul can have a tremendous bearing on the way in which her beauty is perceived.’ Well, whew! Lucky for us fat miesskeits! ‘Still,’ she continues, ‘there is trying and then there is not trying.’

And what of the many beautiful slim, glossy haired, pert-nosed single girls, who are trying? And what of the balding, pot-bellied, clueless men that they are supposed to marry? Anything to say about them? I didn’t think so.

So please, let us bypass this bullshit, and really make an effort. Friends? Again I call to you to help your single friends find their match. Singles? Listen to your friends! And good luck.

LESSONS FROM LIFE

Life is a learning experience, is it not?  You can learn something from anyone, and take a lesson from anything that happens around you. Not everything is learned from books! (And there are some people who can only learn from peeing on the electric fence; but I digress.)

For example, I learned from Sandra, a 16 year old girl who, for a brief time was my au pair 30 years ago, that if you add a squeeze of tomato ketchup and an egg to the hamburger mince, along with the chopped onions and black pepper, the burger is much more moist and delicious. Try it! My burgers are legendary (according to my youngest son). Thank you Sandra!

Tanya, a lady who comes swimming in my pool, said that if you cut a cucumber and rub the cut side over surfaces in the pantry etc, it will keep away ants. It does!

I even learned something from a gentoo penguin on the Antarctic Peninsula. I saw this little fellow toddle up from the water and slowly climb a rock face up to its nest. May I remind you that penguins have no hands. He just hopped up, one rock at a time, until he reached the top of this 5 metre wall. It was a lesson in tenacity.

I had an elderly patient many years ago who commented on how I had tension in my hands because I was interlacing my fingers and twiddling my thumbs, and she noted that this tension would make me feel more tense overall. She advised me to sit with my hands sort of cupped in my lap like this:

And it would help me find physical and mental relaxation. She was right! She wasn’t a yoga teacher or anything, just a nice old lady I was looking after in hospital. Oh man, can you learn a lot from your patients. Learning how to listen is probably the most important lesson. (Also learning how to write prescriptions legibly, after I nearly poisoned a patient with an overdose of medication; but that’s another story.)

From my sensei (I did karate for 3 years, back in the day) I learned that even when you think you have nothing left and that if you do one more squat kick, you will die…you can do it and you won’t die. And that the training session will end eventually! Goes for any sport really. If I ran marathons, (which I will never do, ever) I am sure the same lesson would be there. (Except I WOULD probably die, so that’s a reason not to run marathons. People forget that the Greek dude who ran the first marathon, Pheidippides, actually DID die after running 42kms from Marathon to Athens.)

From the Arabs, (yes, I SAID you can learn something from anyone!) I learned a saying:

‘When your son is small, be a father to him; and when he is grown, be a brother to him.’

I think that holds well with for mothers/daughters too.

From the Arabs also comes the saying, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’ which sort of explains a lot of global politics, no? 

From my twin babies, I learned that boys and girls are born different, and from my difficult experiences breastfeeding my children I learned that everything I had learned in med school about breastfeeding was wrong. And then I made a career out of it as a lactation consultant. Is there a milky way to say ‘Lemonade from lemons’?

Of course, there is no end to what you can learn from raising your children. Patience and tolerance are up there in the top 5. (And sometimes there are lessons learned well, too late to be of use for raising children BUT most helpful for dealing with grandchildren!)

From my brother Marvin, z”l, I learned that a cynical viewpoint can shorten your life. (And that, if you can’t be a good role model, then at least be a striking object lesson to others.) There really is a power to positive thinking.

And from certain opponents in Words with Friends I have been taught a harsh lesson in humility (I’m talking about YOU, Rochie)! I really used to win 80-90% of my games, and currently I am being slaughtered and have won only 2 of my last 10 games! I’m hoping to make a comeback some time soon. But I am chastened. I’m learning.

MARRIED- BY FRIENDS

I think that it is hard for anybody to find their match. I think this is true for everyone, whether religious or not, Jewish or not, everywhere. It is easier in traditional societies where there is less expectation of marriage perhaps, and where the cult of the individual as we know it in the West, does not have such a stranglehold. I wonder what it is like in North Korea? I guess if the Dear Leader tells you to marry someone, you marry someone, but he can’t force you to be happy, can he?

I know that I have seen both sides. I dated like crazy, I went to parties and to discos and to singles functions and university social groups and such, and I had a lot of fun and a lot of boyfriends but no keepers. Then after I had a sort of epiphany, you should excuse the expression, I decided that I wanted a more religious life. A friend introduced me to my husband-to-be, and after a false start, we clicked, dated for 5 weeks, got engaged (Dec 24), got married after 2 ½ months and, after 9 months, had twins (Dec 22). So I was engaged, married and had twins within a year. (They were 4 weeks premature, and don’t think low-minded people weren’t counting on their fingers at the time.) No mucking around.  We were 24. It’s been 32 years, 5 more kids, 7 grandchildren B”H. No complaints. Well, actually, plenty of complaints, but who listens to a complainer?

So I naturally thought that in my frum life, the road to marrying off my children would be clear and simple; none of this sordid frustrating dating stuff, no noisy dark clubs, no waiting for commitment.  They would be spared all of that stuff. They would go on dates when they were prepared to be married and there would be no doubt that the other person would be looking for the same thing. Commitment. Similar values.

Well, maybe this works for some people, but I can tell you that it is nowhere near as simple as this. For one thing, there seems to be a gender imbalance. Why should this be? Aren’t boys and girls born roughly 50:50? So, say some are unsuitable for marriage one way or the other…is there such a large number of unsuitable boys relative to unsuitable girls? It seems that there is. And so, if you have a son…not just any son, but ‘a good boy’ as opposed to a smoker-toker-joker, then your phone will ring until it melts. But if you have a daughter, ‘a good girl’, alleh midois, alleh maalehs, la crème de la crème…nothing.

If you have a son, it is as if you are in a jungle and you need a machete to chop through all the weeds and clear a path until you find the right one. But if you have a girl, it is like you are in a desert. And far away in the distance, there stands a lone palm tree. But it might be a mirage.

Then there seems to be an attitude problem, where boys and girls, influenced (I nearly said “infected”) by Hollywood values, think that they have to be IN LOVE, LO-O-O-O-VE, LERRRVE in order to get married. Well, you don’t. You have to be ‘in like’. You should be amused, intrigued, looking forward to seeing each other. But you don’t need to be head-over-heels, fireworks in the air, in love. That stuff fades pretty quickly, but affection and loyalty and putting the other person first, that’s for the long haul.

Back in the shtetl, expectations were different. My own father, from Poland, was the son of a second wife. The first wife died in childbirth (and the baby was nourished by a wet-nurse whose own child became the ‘milk-sibling’ of the motherless child.) And then Grandpa married his late wife’s younger sister. And then he died when my father was 11, of a strangulated hernia. And then she remarried. (And then ‘the Nazi murderers killed them all’ as my father was wont to say.) On my mother’s side, her paternal grandfather, from Bessarabia, was 13 when he was first married to a 12 year old girl. They had 6 children, and then she died, probably relating to childbirth also. Then he remarried and had 8 more children. It is easy to see how expectations of marriage would have been different in those days. Certainly these folk, bent on survival, duty, tradition, would laugh at today’s roses and valentines and romantic notions of happily ever after fairy tales. I’m sure- I hope- they liked each other, assuming they knew each other before the wedding, but they trusted their parents to look out for them, and Hollywood wasn’t around then. And even if they knew about Romeo and Juliet, it’s worth remembering that everyone dies in the end. So they were unlikely to have been all starry-eyed.  And after The War, people married in DP camps; pitiful remnants of European Jewry, refugees with only the clothes on their backs, given to them by The Joint or the Red Cross, found each other and had enough strength and optimism to want to start a new life and procreate. I can tell you that these folks weren’t proposing in hot-air balloons filled with red roses.

So now we expect that marriage will last much longer because life-spans are generally longer, and that the relationship will deepen and evolve over the years, and there have been a million books written about this. But we can’t seem to get our kids hitched! Secular for sure not! They think they will be young and fertile forever! They think it’s fine to do everything else but get married, and then when the matter becomes more pressing, they are still fotzing around as if they were 20. And for every girl yearning to settle down and start a family there are 10 guys who think they are Peter Pan. Do you know that in Israel 2010 there were 4,900 single women who used reproductive technology in order to conceive and have a child on their own, before it was too late? OK, Israel, I guess there is a worse gender imbalance because of casualties of wars, but that’s a lot of single women. Also fertility treatments are free in Israel. But this sounds to me like a default plan. I personally know 2 sisters who did this, both highly educated professionals in their 40’s, and now they each have a baby and couldn’t be happier. But they would have preferred husbands to do this with.

Recently there have been some rabbinical directives re early marriage, and I laughed nervously at the ages suggested. 20? I think of myself at 20, let alone a boy. No way was I ready. No way were my sons ready at that age. But then, after a certain point, whenever that might be, it seems the kids get too ‘smart’, too savvy, critical and picky, unless they were always critical and picky types from the get-go, and nobody is good enough. But then, low 20’s sounds better, and parents are usually still around to be supportive. But in the secular community, they think even 24 is too young. And if that is your mindset, then it IS in fact too young.

Anyway, in this roundabout, digressive post, I am saying that young people, married or single, should be doing much more to introduce other singles to each other. The professional (or even the well-meaning amateur) shadchan should be something only used if all else fails. Ditto J-date or Frumster or Saw You At Sinai websites. Friends should look out for friends. We parents try, or maybe we don’t try, but really, we only think we know our kids and what they need. Sometimes their friends know better.

So, friends? Peers? Time to make more of an effort to get your friends hitched. Be a nudnik, be pushy if you have to. That’s how I found my husband, noodged by an annoying friend to give it a try, give it another try.  32 years on, I am still grateful to that nudnik.

PS: Today, 22 Adar, is actually my wedding anniversary, and I would like to say to my husband, who never reads my blog, that it’s been an amazing 32 years, ups and downs for sure, but here we are, and it’s just grand. Thank you.

WHO IS A JEW?

I am increasingly distressed and stymied by the issue of Jewish identity. And this is one thing which should really be crystal clear. Who is a Jew? One born of a Jewish mother or one converted according to Halacha. Why does it sound so uncomplicated? And yet it is so muddied.

I have been invited to a Barmitzvah. Of a Non-Jewish boy. Yes, this boy is the son of a woman, now sadly deceased, who was not Jewish and never converted. And this boy has a Jewish father. It is absolutely clear that this child is not Jewish and therefore is not required to put on tefillin or to keep mitzvot, which is what being Bar-Mitzvah is all about. I mean, if he just wants to have a big party, then fine! Have a party! So why is he having a Barmitzvah? And where? Well, at Temple Beth Israel, of course. Where else? Where else but in a Reform temple. Here in Melbourne, we call Reform ‘the Liberals.’

Who thought of these terms? When was Jewish- observant or not, ‘frum’ or ‘frei’- broken up into these classifications? Orthodox: ‘Holding correct, ie currently accepted opinions’ ‘Right, correct, true’, according to the SOED. Well, OK. But then, what is ‘Ultra-Orthodox’? Ultra: Beyond.  Also, ‘Showing the highest degree of the quality denoted by the simple adjective’, in this case, ‘orthodox’. So, ultra-Orthodox is either beyond right and true, which makes no sense; or ‘showing the highest degree’ of being correct, right or true. Which also makes no sense; last time I looked, the qualities of truth and rightness were absolute and unmodifiable. No ‘truthiness’ here.  True is true. Right is right. So what does ‘Ultra-Orthodox’ actually mean? It means, in this usage, ‘fanatic’. It means, ‘this person wears a funny hat’. ‘This person is a religious extremist, because he does more than I do’. So ‘Ultra-Orthodox’ is actually a pejorative term.

OK, so what of ‘Liberal’, ‘Reform’, and ‘Progressive’ Judaism- all the same thing I believe. So assume these terms are used as a reaction to the ‘Correctness’ of Orthodoxy. I am Liberal! Free! Liberated! Unrestrained! You are restrained, narrow. I am Reform, I improve that which is faulty! You believe in a faulty religion. I am Progressive! You are regressive. The very names used to describe this branch of Judaism are, in a way, offensive to the Orthodox. This was expressed some years ago by Rabbi John Levi, rabbi emeritus of the Temple Beth Israel, when he said words to the effect of  ‘Liberal /Reform Judaism is Judaism without the bad bits.’ How offensive is that? Did any Orthodox protest this? Well, apart from me? I don’t think so.

And what of Conservative, or Masorti Judaism? These people have me scratching my head a bit, let alone ‘Conservadox’. I think the principles are gender equality and you can drive to Shul. I think of it as a shy, sidelong approach to Orthodoxy, but without the Kabbalat Ol, the acceptance of the Yoke of Heaven, ie, doing as you’re told without too much protesting, Na’aseh veNishma- ‘we will do, first; and then we will listen’. Rather, picking and choosing to do stuff which you like or which appeals to your sense of logic, or conversely, not doing things which upset your worldview; in other words, the person is at the centre, rather than G-d. But that argument is for another time.

But you know, if you want to have men and women sitting together at services, fine. If you want to have female rabbis and cantors, fine. If you want to call girls up to the Torah wearing cute little silk-screen printed tallitot, fine. If you are into Tikkun Olam, mending the world, wonderful! But if you want to redefine Jewish identity by saying that patrilineage is a fully acceptable decider for Jewishness, no, that’s not fine. Not at all.

For 2000+ years, the definition was clear: born of a Jewish mother or converted according to Halacha. At first, in the late 19^th to 20^th centuries, Reform made things difficult enough with their own version of conversion, which was not usually acceptable to what was then mainstream Judaism. The divorce, or Gett, was also questionable, raising problems with remarriage and consequent status of offspring of the second marriage, Mamzerut or illegitimacy. This was already difficult territory. But then suddenly, you didn’t even need to have a Jewish mother, or to convert at all, to be Jewish! And if I stand up to protest this, I am the one who is shouted down as ‘anti-pluralist’ and ‘ultra-Orthodox, ie fanatical’, beyond all reason.

So what, in the end, is Jewish? Maybe it’s anyone who calls themselves Jewish- just ask the so-called Messianic Jews! Why, they believe in Jesus, sorry, Yeshua, the Saviour, and they still call themselves Jews! As if that can make any sense at all!

So will I go to this Barmitzvah? No, I will not go to the Temple for the boy’s call-up to the Torah and be a part of what I think is a travesty. But I will go to the party for a bit (where the food will of course be non-Kosher and maybe I will get a little plastic-covered plate of hors-d’oeuvres just so I can fit in even less) because we were friendly with this couple and we are sad that this boy lost his mother at such an early age.

We are still menschen, even if we are Ultra-Orthodox.

AMALEK- WHO?

So it’s Purim tomorrow and we will celebrate the downfall of our enemy, Haman, descendant of Amalek, by feasting and drinking and giving food to each other- in other words, ‘they tried to kill us, we won, let’s eat!’

And in Shul last Shabbos, I stood up and listened to instruction to ‘Remember to blot out the memory of Amalek’, who attacked the Israelites when they left Egypt, for no reason. The Jews weren’t going to war with them, didn’t want to colonize their lands, but the tribe of Amalek refusedto allow safe passage and attacked the travelers. Specifically they targeted those stragglers and weak who were outside the protection of the Ananei haKoved, the Clouds of Glory. We interpret this as being those who were not as spiritually strong; they were on the outer, but they were still Jews. The Jews fought back, and with the help of Moshe, they defeated Amalek.

So every other nation was in awe of the Jews and the Clouds and the presence of G-d, but not Amalek. And we say that all those who wish to destroy the Jews are descendants of Amalek. No shortage of those,hey?

But Amalek is also a spiritual state: of doubt, of 'coolness’ instead of enthusiasm and passion. It is the voice that whispers inyour ear, ‘Nah, how could the world have been created in 6 days? It’s a pretty myth.’ ‘Split the Red Sea? Must have been a natural event.’ ‘Maybe everything they say about Israel is true? Maybe it is an apartheid state? Maybe the IDF really is brutal, maybe they really do shoot to kill Palestinian children? After all, look at the photos and news coverage?’ Even though in your heart you know the truth.

Anyway, this instruction to remember to forget always used to try my sense of logic. I mean, if you are supposed to blot out the memory of Amalek, why keep reminding us? Just forget it already!

But the trouble is, many Jews have forgotten. Many Jews cannot get their heads around the sort of behaviour where, for no reason at all, people attack Jews. The weak, the children, the defenceless, all are fair game. For no reason.

‘No, it must be poverty! It must have been something we said, we did, we thought! It must be our presence which is so offensive to them that they have no choice, no choice but to attack us! We don’t deserve to be there, it’s not our land, it’s the settlers, the settlers! It’s their fault. They don’t represent me! I’m not a hot–headed fanatic like them, I’m reasonable, let’s give the land to the Arabs, it’s not ours in the first place.’

They can justify bombing pizza shops, schoolbuses, shuls, schools, anything. Because there must be a reason. Nobody would do this for no reason!

Yes they can. It’s Amalek. And, additionally, the parallels between Persia of the time of Queen Esther and today are insane. Another Amalekite, Ahmedinajad, the Persian vizier, threatens to destroy the people of Mordechai the Jew, man woman and child; annihilation. Just like Haman. And we pray that, as with Haman, the tables will be turned and the Jewish people will have ‘light, happiness, joy and glory’.

Have a wonderful, joyous Purim, go easy on the hamantaschen.

SWIMEDITATION

I swim most days in the luxury of my own lap pool. I’ve had it for 12 years and I only really started to use it for laps for a year or so. Until then, I just got too distracted by proprietal matters- pump failure, blown light bulbs, chemical imbalances (the water, not my brain). We have water aerobic lessons twice a week and several of my daughters are swimming teachers who ran their little school out of it. And many friends use it. So this pool is not merely a storage unit for chemicals. This pool is a community resource.

But what with my gym and Pilates and Zumba and what not, I never really did much apart from the water aerobics. Until I had so many aches and pains, the only thing that helped was swimming.

I do 50 laps twice a week, 20 laps after gym and on the Sabbath I rest.

You may wonder, what on Earth do I think of as I go up and down, up and down, up and down for an hour? What indeed?

I count laps, counting DOWN, by the way. That bit of information is the only thing worth remembering. If you count up, you will get to 20 and say, hell, that’s enough; but if you count backwards, you are committed to finish, or else lose all self-respect. Try it, it works!

My thoughts go a bit like this:

50 Jeez, long way to go, must get that tile fixed, oh no, that light bulb is out again, is that sand on the bottom of the pool?

49 I wish I could do tumbleturns 49=7 squared, breathe on 4^th stroke

48 powerful kick off wall, graceful like dolphin 48=12x4= 3x4x4

47 is that a prime number? These goggles are tight, reach stroke kick

46 music starts (Chorus of Arcade Fire’s Wake Up, for some reason) daaa-daaa-da-da-da-da, daaa-daaa-da-da-da-da, etc

45 So sad about Whitney Houston….Amy Winehouse…reach stroke kick

44 Reach for a star, put it in my pocket, flutter kick kick kick

43 Prime number…cannot believe Julia Gillard’s stupid interview…and still she won…

42 Meaning of life…6x7…reach kick…daaa-daaa-da-da-da-da

41 What is with primes…oh that was quick, kick off

40 stretch, reach, kick…shoulder’s feeling better… hold butt tight

39 power off wall hold tummy tight, back a bit sore, shouldn’t this help?

38 I think it’s 38…36?… evens out, odds back…no, 38…daaa-daaa-da-da-da-da

37 prime why do primes interest me I don’t do maths

36 twice Chai, 3 dozen, 6 squared Daaa-daaa etc

35 middle aged used to be, half of 70 years, not anymore, stretch kick

34 water’s a bit warm is that another tile loose? Must call pool guy

33 reach pull kick shoulder much better, amazing Daaa-daaa etc

32 Is it? Did I lose count? Evens…odds…no, 32, reach pull kick

31 prime have to get car washed reach pull kick breathe

30 I can cough underwater tummy tight butt tight reach pull kick

29 hey 30 to go nearly halfway I hope that last post was good, nobody commented but me…

28 Kick off wall maybe I can write about swimming…thinking

27 9x3, 3 cubed, will I ever publish that cookbook why can’t I just see it through

26 Gematria Y-H-V-H , 2x13, call it Waste not: loving leftovers bleh

25 5 squared  reach pull kick breathe daaa-daaa-da-da-da-da

24 2 dozen, factors 1,2,3,4,6,12,24 busy number tummy tight

23 prime Oprah in Brooklyn maybe write about that reach pull kick

22 2 little ducks bingo have to go to butcher today

21 key to the door, never been 21 before…fruit order

20 that’s gone fast pick up speed reach pull kick breathe

19 prime how many for dinner this Friday could be 16 could be 22

18 Chai  need to find out, need to book help…

17 St Patricks day March 17 wearing of the green reach pull kick

16 Sweet 16 Neil Sedaka is he still alive reach pull kick breathe

15 Batmitzvah for Spanish girls not a bad idea stretch pull

14 Crazy world, war everywhere Iran the Bomb what will happen

13 Barmitzvah, 13 attributes of faith, unlucky for some not us, bakers dozen

12 Batmitzvah dozen, factors 1,2,3,4,6,12 need Moshiach reach pull

11 Legs 11 pick up tempo Obama second only to Jimmy Carter failed president, Iran all Carter’s fault

10 Perfect 10 need decent leaders kick pull breathe

9 single digit 3x3 wow this is going fast reach pull daaa-daaa etc

8 Lucky for Chinese… mystical number above natural order reach pull tummy tight

7 Lucky Kabbalistic 7^th day G-d rested, the week is a Divine creation

6 go for it, reach! Pull! Kick! Move it!

5 fingers of death, Bruce Lee, he was a legend reach pull

4 nearly done not so bad, theme for Purim, International Women’s day? Have to do make seudah this year

3 when will I have time, reach pull kick

2 strong finish now reach pull, manicure this week

1 last one go go go reach pull Woohoo! Done! These goggles are killers! I think I have bruises from them!

Stretch hammies, quads, calves, triceps. Climb out, shake head to get water out of right ear, trudge off to shower.

So when I swim, I think of swimming, how my body feels while swimming, and the pool; of lap counts and numbers and mystic or bingo symbolism of numbers; of celebrities and world events and Armageddon. I also think of family stuff which I don’t need to discuss here. I think of all this stuff BUT I don’t think of work. Aha! Another reason for swimeditation.