Perspective

Everything we feel is born out of the perspective we come from. There is some truth in what everyone feels - even if different people feel contradictory things.

When I was in high school, Stern was seen as the "frum" college choice. When I was in Stern, I met people who came from the opposite end - they came from worlds where Stern (and YU) was seen as a more "modern" college choice. The same Stern and YU.

In certain circles, I hear people complain about YU and how it's growing so much to the right. In other circles, people are afraid of YU shifting too much to the left.

So which is it?

YU (and the CJF) has many different kinds of events: the seforim sale, Torah Tours, etc. Sometimes, YU has events that are more questionable or more "to the left." The Gay Panel was one of those events. Here are my thoughts on the gay panel event.

1. I believe that we have an obligation to be sympathetic to the plights of any of our Jewish brethren. Jewish homosexuals have a particularly difficult struggle in that they can never really get married and have children.

1a. Getting married and having children is only one major aspect of living a Jewish life. Devoting one's self to Torah and to the community can be another. There is more than one way to find meaning in life, and there is more than one way to have a fulfilling Jewish future. That said, I am completely sympathetic to the pain of knowing you will never marry and raise a family.

2. As harsh as this sounds, there is nothing the public Jewish community can do to help homosexuals. All we can do is feel sympathy. We cannot decide to make something halachikly okay when it is clearly not. We cannot turn a blind eye to any halachik transgressions because we feel bad. As R' Twersky said, there is such a thing as having too much sympathy. The more sympathetic a person is, the more that person wants to lessen someone else's pain, and then the more that person might allow certain things to slide that should not. Our sympathy has to remain only in the "feeling sensitive" category, not "feeling so bad that we'll do anything to lessen the other person's pain." We just can't make things okay that are not okay, no matter how badly we feel.

2a. Therefore, a public event like the panel serves a confusing purpose. It brought about some good - I have heard a bunch of people say that they used to not have any feelings towards the homosexual issue and now they feel sympathetic, which is a valuable outcome (if it is a healthy amount of sympathy). It also has the potential to bring about harm - someone might feel that YU is condoning homosexuality, that YU students support homosexuality, and/or that this is just one step forward down a tricky road of possible serious halachik transgressions. Do we really think the subject of homosexuality at YU will remain in the area of just discussing how difficult it is for Orthodox homosexuals? Or is this only the beginning towards a questionable future? I don't know. I don't think anyone can know. It remains to be seen. Am I offended by the event? No. Am I angry it occurred? I wasn't. After reading the notes of R' Reiss's speech, however, I feel his deep sadness that something like arayos needs to be discussed in this manner at YU - a makom Torah. I do find it upsetting that we should need a reminder that such a thing is not allowed. But I also believe that not all the panelists, and certainly not the people who organized the event, or R' Blau, or those who attended the event, ever intended to give off the impression that acting on homosexuality was acceptable. Such a perception grew out of the reactions of those against the panel. Now that this perception exists, however, YU and the Orthodox world must combat the idea that an Orthodox institution could ever condone such a thing, and we all must remind ourselves that no matter how sympathetic we feel, we can never be supportive of actual homosexual behavior.

3. Homosexuality is a private, personal issue. A person dealing with homosexuality 100% should receive guidance and inspiration on how to continue to lead a frum Orthodox life while grappling with this struggle, but that person should be turning to rabbonim, friends, and family for this guidance and support.

Saying homosexuality is a private issue is not the same as sweeping it under the rug. When something is accused of being "swept under the rug," it is when there is something that ought to be exposed and is not. This goes for abuse, molestation, etc. When it comes to homosexuality, there is nothing to expose that is being hidden away. There is no evil we as a community ought to bring out into the open in order to deal with and protect people from. Homosexuality is a personal issue. It involves the person and the people in that person's personal life. Such an intense struggle is something sensitive that ought to be treated as such, not by airing it out for the whole community to hear but by dealing with it discreetly and respectfully. That is also the most productive way to deal with it: the way a person will actually receive the most help and guidance.

4. There has been a lot of outcry about the direction Orthodoxy is headed. Some say it's heading too much to the left, some say too much to the right. I say this: Throughout Jewish history, we as a religious entity have had to deal with various difficult issues. We have survived and survived and survived. And we will survive this, too. Orthodoxy will not disappear and it will not turn into something unrecognizable. Things change all the time, but our core values are always the same. The Torah is truth and that is what guides us. As long as the Torah and halacha is still the focus of how we live our lives, we will be okay. The thing we have to watch out for, which is something that R' Twersky mentioned briefly, is being true to what halachos really are, not reinventing them to make things okay that are not actually okay just because we would like them to be okay.

And that's another thing. We are not entitled to anything we feel like we ought to have. As Orthodox Jews, we should know better than to think that way. This extends far beyond the issue of homosexuality. You know the slogan of Hebrew National - "We answer to a higher authority?" Well, they might not, but we do. We can't forget that there is a higher purpose in life than getting everything we want. As a nation that is kadosh, we have been given specific guidelines for how to live a life of kedusha. We are so lucky that most of us grow up aware we have meaning and a purpose in life. So many people in this world don't have that. We do. We should cherish that and try to live the way we are supposed to.

5. I don't think YU is a bad place. YU is a very good place trying to figure out how to deal with its wide array of students. Perhaps a lot of what they do is for money and image. But I really do think there's this understanding that YU students are a major part of the Orthodox future - certainly the Modern Orthodox future - and the institution tries to cater to the different kinds of students there are. Maybe that is part of the problem. Maybe YU as an institution ought to do some self-reflection and philosophizing, coming up with a real hashkafa that it stands by. If something does not abide by that hashkafa, then YU should not stand behind that thing. Then there will be no, or less, confusion, and YU will not find itself in quite as many situations as this. The argument against that is that YU wants to keep its diverse university face, as well. But I do think lines need to be drawn anyway, while still leaving room for productive intellectual discourse.

I'm just one Stern alum and these are my thoughts.

Religious Security

This post is written in response to this one by Honestly Frum. The excerpts are two comments, the first by The Hedyot and the second by Garnel Ironheart.

"First you say: "...it is people like Rabbi Avi Weiss and Yitz Greenberg who are so out of the mainstream that soon their brand of Orthodoxy will not be recognizable."

Then, you write, "The minute you tell me that my hashkafos are wrong and therefore everything I believe in must be discounted because they do not fit into your box, you throw everything that is great about our religion out of the window. "

You're perfectly comfortable with writing Avi Weiss out of Judaism, but you think it's such a travesty when black-hatters do it to you?!

Don't you realize that the same way that you view Avi Weiss is how they view you? How can you complain about what they're doing, when you are doing the exact same thing? Yes, I know you might say say that Avi Weiss is too far outside the confines of halacha, but then wouldn't they say the same thing about you? And wouldn't Avi Weiss say that he is within the parameters of halacha just like you would say to the Lakewooders?"

"As The Hedyot noted, if MO is going to rant at the Chareidim that they're not taking you seriously, then you have to answer a question: what's the difference between that and when the non-Orthodox complain that MO doesn't take them seriously?"

I think that point is really important. I thought of it as I was reading the post (before I got to the comments). On the one hand, you don't want to be looked at as less frum because to you, you are frum, but on the other, you're looking at others as less frum when to them, they are frum. I'm not saying people like R' Avi Weiss are doing things that are completely acceptable. But on the other hand, it's a double standard to complain about Yeshivish people feeling they are so much frummer than you and then you feeling you are so much frummer than people on the left.

The way you behave and feel about your own religious validity should not be based on what other people are doing, anyway. I don't feel insecure about my hashkafos and the way I practice Judaism and, therefore, I don't really care that some Yeshivish person might look down on me. I know I'm a frum person. I don't need the approval of everyone "to the right."

I think the bigger problem is that people assume that if you're in the Yeshivish community or you speak the lingo or you're a guy who has long payos and wears black and white and a hat or a girl in a beis yaakov uniform, etc. - that it means those people are "frummer." You don't know how they practice Judaism. They belong to a certain upbringing and philosophy, but that philosophy doesn't actually mean they behave in a "frummer" way than you. So they don't have TV in their homes. Okay. But maybe they are really rude or speak a lot of lashon hara. Or have no concept of kibud av va'em. Or anything. They have weaknesses and you have weaknesses and there is what to be learned from everyone, to the right of you AND to the left of you, both on how to behave AND how NOT to behave. Not having a TV in your home or not talking to boys or wearing a pleated black skirt does NOT make a person frummer.

Then again, I strongly dislike the mentality of, "Okay, so I don't keep the laws of tznius, but I'm a nice person which is more than can be said for you!" There has to be a balance there, too. You can't excuse skimping out on important areas of halacha just because you follow others well. Kudos to you for whichever areas of halacha you keep like they are second nature. However, that does not mean you should feel satisfied with your religious growth. We are obligated in ALL of halacha - not just ben adam l'chaveiro and not just ben adam l'makom. Judaism is a combination of the behavioral - honoring your parents, not speaking lashon hara, being respectful towards others - and of nitty-gritty details, such as dressing tzniusly (an area many girls take issue with in high school), what time of day certain mitzvos are to be performed, etc.

I've heard both sides: "Do you think God really cares if I cover my elbow or not? Or if I cover my hair? Or how much hair I actually cover? Do you think God really cares when or how I perform this mitzva? They're just semantics so that other people can feel superior and in control by telling you to do them. That's what's wrong with our religion." And there's also, "I follow halacha. What you're doing is not halacha. Very nice that you're nice to people, but anyone can be nice to people. I'm actually following halacha. Look at the way I dress, the way I shuckle when I daven. I'm super frum."

Both of these mentalities are wrong. Judaism is not about "do you think God cares?" It's not about making the religion more convenient for you. It's about how much you care. If there's someone you really respect, you would do things for that person, even if you weren't sure how much that person cared that you were doing those things, right? Look at the way fans treat celebrities.

At the same time, it's not about focusing so much on the measurements and details that you forget the bigger picture.

Judaism is both. It's about caring, it's about the big picture, it's about human relations, and it's also about the measurements, calculations, and little details. You should not have one without the other. Doing so would be lacking in your halachik observance.

What is important?

Following halacha, following the Torah, serving God.

We trip over ourselves because "following halacha" is so vague. What does it mean to follow halacha? Whose halacha? Which way of following halacha is acceptable? How far can you go before you're out of acceptable halachik bounds? And who decides that?

That's where the problems start, and then spiral out of control.

I have no answers. But I do think part of the problem with our perception of other Jews is that we tend to think of Judaism either like this:


Or like this:


With both diagrams depicting a linear ascent towards Torah and God. Either it's a ladder with Modernity at the bottom and Torah at the top so that those closer to Torah look down on those closer to Modernity, or it's a straight line with those on the right closer to Torah, while Modernity is all the way on the left.

But I think Judaism is more like this:


There are many ways to be a frum, Torah observant Jew. Notice that for each arrow, one can still be closer to Torah or further away, but there are equal points on each arrow. A person on one arrow and a person on another are coming at Torah from different ways, but are equidistant from it. So if one arrow was Modern Orthodoxy and another was Yeshivish Jews, a MO Jew and a Yeshivish Jew could both be equally as frum, or equally not as frum.

Of course, the diagram is not perfect. Not every path a person can take leads to Torah. And this is not a call for people to start wondering where certain groups in Judaism fall on these arrows.

It is a call for you to start wondering where you fall. And not to look at other people so much. Just because someone seems to be of a different camp does not mean that person is any more or less frum than you, and therefore you have no business judging anyone but yourself. If you work on your own religious observance, you will feel more religiously secure. And the more religiously secure you feel, the less you'll care about anyone "looking down" on you or "trying to change you." You'll just laugh at that because you'll have a feeling of shleimus that cannot be breached. Not by something so silly as someone else being too judgmental of you.

I believe so strongly what I say here because it is something I have struggled with in various aspects of my life - not just religion. The more comfortable you are with yourself, the less you'll care what anyone else thinks. It just won't matter.

So work on your own religious observance and stop looking at other people's. Stop looking at other people looking at you, as well. You'll be a lot happier.

The Importance Of The Back And Forth

I wasn't sure how to begin this post, so I suppose I'll begin with myself. I don't like getting so personal, even though I have written some very personal things on here before, but I feel this is an important point to make.

It's very difficult to listen to other people's critical opinions concerning myself. I'm sure this is true for most people. When someone voices a criticism, it's as though that voiced criticism has a power ten times greater than anything going on in my own mind. So even if I previously believed I could do something, once someone verbalizes a doubt, I begin to doubt myself.

This is a bad thing. No one else's opinion about yourself should have that much weight. You should listen to that person's opinion, you should decide if you feel it is a valuable one, and you should take from it what you think reasonable. You should not in any way allow that person's opinion to define the way you think of yourself. Just because someone voices something does not mean that thing is accurate or true. And speaking something aloud does not give that thing any power if other people do not allow it to have power - if you don't allow it to have power.

On the other hand, an opinion expressed now has a life. It is up to you to decide if that opinion is silly, whereupon you can quash it with your own common sense, or if it has validity. If you determine it to be valid in some way, you can internalize those valid parts and use them to improve yourself.

Now let's extend this beyond the personal.

If someone criticizes an institution, does it mean that criticism is true? Of course not. It is one person's biased opinion - and opinions are nearly always biased. Everyone comes from his/her own point of view and each point of view is unique.

However, once that criticism is voiced, others may listen to it and agree. Or even if they do not agree, they may suddenly be considering that opinion. It is in their heads. It has a life.

This does NOT mean it is correct, nor does it mean the person voicing this opinion should be bashed for doing so. What it means is that someone who believes differently should voice his own opinion.

You see, before any opinions are expressed, they are believed. One person may speak them aloud, but many others are already thinking them in their heads. Keeping voices silent does not keep thoughts silent, and silent thoughts are almost more dangerous than ones verbalized in discussion.

Discussion is the key here. Without discussion, there cannot be real growth. Why do people learn in chavrusas? Because it is the discussion, the back and forth, that enables greater understanding. Otherwise, everyone should just learn on his own and keep his own thoughts to himself. That way they won't interfere with someone else's thoughts - right? They won't mess anything up for anyone.

Is that really an ideal way to exist? To have everyone think his own things in an isolated bubble of belief? How can we be one nation if we don't intellectually and religiously engage one another?

If there is a strong voice on one side, make sure you have an equally strong voice on your own side. There is nothing to be afraid of that way. Discussion is not to be feared. Without it, you would never get to explain to someone else why what you believe makes sense.

Someone of a different opinion would have no influence.

But neither would you.

A Thirst Unquenched

Have you ever had it happen to you that you just wished you knew more? That you felt it was futile to express opinions about something because you were so acutely aware of how little you knew and you just weren't in the mood to be shot down by those who knew more than you?

I've always had this insurmountable desire to know everything. I would walk into a library and be overcome by all the books I still haven't read. How could I possibly read anything twice? How was there time when there were so many things I hadn't yet read once? And what about Torah? There is so much I never formally learned in school. There is so much more to know. How can I ever learn it all? How can I ever prioritize what I want to know? I can step inside the Beit Midrash at Stern and feel the weight of all that I don't yet know and ought to know pressing down - so much so that I just don't learn any of it. And Torah, more than literature, is something I feel I must know, and I am so self-conscious of all that I don't.

There was a point in time during my early semesters at Stern where I thought I was going to minor in History. I've always found History fascinating and I immensely enjoy listening to a professor teach it. The problem is that I also never did well in history. I was bad at memorizing all the names and dates, especially so many at once. I'm quite good at remembering history in the context of literature, when you get to really learn and understand a time period, its politics, and the people involved through the telling of a story.* I'm not good at memorizing lists of facts, or events, or people who I don't really get a sense of more than just their names and a resume of their accomplishments.

So after sitting through (and loving but not doing particularly well in) APUS History in 12th grade, and then Western Civ., French Revolution, and some others (I think) at Stern, I ended up smack against a brick wall. I was taking a class on the Middle East. Though I've never felt the same sort of romanticism in Arabic history that I've felt in American or European, I was drawn to the class because of its rather timely subject. I wanted to truly understand the issues in the Middle East. I wanted to be one of those people who could defend Israel properly and intelligently, being well-versed in everything going on in connection with the Arab-Israeli conflict. The same way that I always wanted to be able to participate in a discussion about American politics and actually sound like I know what I'm talking about. But that semester I was taking a bunch of English classes and another History and the work became too much. I couldn't handle two classed that I both loved but couldn't do well in at once, so on the day of our first test, when I'd had way too much other work to properly study, I dropped the class, and along with it, my History minor.

So I did not end up spending a semester studying the history behind the issues in the Middle East. And I do not know enough about American politics to speak in the presence of anyone who knows more than just a little about it. And I have not read some of the major classic works of literature that are out there. And I have not learned many practical halachos inside in order to really understand what I'm doing and why, or to even know what I really should be doing in certain circumstances. And I do not know many random obscure bekius in Tanach. And I do not know about a lot of major Rabbis that people talk about - even ones at YU.

And...there is so much that I don't know. How can I ever learn it all? And when? How can I consider myself an intelligent person when there is so much I feel I don't know? When I am ashamed of what I don't know? When I don't feel comfortable asking sometimes because that means admitting to someone that I just don't know? And, more overarchingly, how can I ever quench this thirst for knowledge? I want to know and understand so much. I just can't imagine how I'll ever be able to.

*I've read a little bit of Historical Fiction, but not a lot of it, but I'm pretty sure I'd love it, so if anyone would like to recommend anything good, please do!

The Problem With Modern Orthodoxy

[Disclaimer: I don't presume to know everything about Modern Orthodoxy or labels in general. If I get anything wrong, I do apologize. Let me know and I'll try to fix it.]

No, I am not going to post about the Sneetches again, but I am going to argue that the term "Modern Orthodoxy" is one of the more meaningless labels we Jews plaster onto each other.

The concept behind Modern Orthodoxy sounds clear - some sort of synthesis of Torah and the modern world, right? But what does this mean in practicality? Is it YU's Torah U'Mada? Is it Bnei Akiva's Torah v'Avodah? Is it something else entirely?

The truth is, the history of it doesn't matter much when it comes to how it's applied nowadays, because the fact is that people aren't analyzing what it means when they call someone "Modern Orthodox." The issue which arises is that Modern Orthodoxy covers a huge range of religious levels, from those who loiter around the more modern end of the spectrum and those who hang out on the more Orthodox end. And some prefer to take a stroll every now and then, spending some time on the more modern side of things, some time on the more orthodox side. Some sit on a seesaw, rising and falling from one extreme to another. And still some perfer to picnic somewhere in the middle.

The point is that the term Modern Orthodoxy can be and is applied to all of the following people:

A. The girl who goes to a co-ed school, very co-ed camp, wears tank tops and shorts when it's hot enough, sweat pants when it's cooler - skirts to school, probably, hangs out with a lot of guys, not at all shomer negiah, keeps shabbos and kosher.

B. The girl who goes to a single-sex high school but still hangs out with guys, wears pants when she's not in school, short sleeves, not quite shomer negiah, is otherwise in keeping with halacha (for the most part).

C. The girl who has a bit of co-ed in her life but not a ton, wears skirts the cover the knee, sleeves that cover the elbow, shomer negiah, cares about and keeps halacha.

I was going to add D, the girl who has absolutely no co-ed in her life, but to be honest, I have never met anyone, even on the more yeshivish side, who has never had any sort of friendship with a guy (which doesn't mean such people don't exist, I just have yet to come across them). So I'm not sure how much D is actually an ideal as opposed to a reality.

Even while making this list, I felt a certain amount of disgust with myself. For one thing, notice that I am judging these people based on two main principles: mode of dress, level of co-edness. Nothing about the girl's (and you can imagine this list for a guy, as well) connection with God, with the Torah, etc. No ideology involved there at all. Of course, you would think that if one cared enough about halacha, she would try more to keep it. I think that is assumed when such judging occurs, and I think that while this is usually somewhat valid, it should also be done with care and caution. It is good to be open minded about why people do what they do instead of assuming you know.

But benefit of the doubt is not the point of this post (although it's good to remember that it is a principle in Judaism, for all those who are genuinely concerned with following Jewish principles). The point is that if you were to tell someone you have a Modern Orthodox friend, what would that mean? Would that person think your friend is like girl A? or B? or C? Or something in between? Or something else?

Notice how none of the descriptions in my list have anything to do with principles of an ideology. It's all about externals. Because I think that Modern Orthodoxy has lost its ideology. It seems to have become this loose term to describe people who are not Conservative Jews - they're definitely Orthodox, but are not Yeshivish...

Isn't that insane? To presume to lump together everyone in between Conservative and Yeshivish? Don't you realize how wide - how vast - that spectrum is?

And that is why, in my opinion, Modern Orthodoxy, as a term, means nothing. As the idea it once was - does that still exist? But that is not how the term is thrown around. The idea is no longer connected to the name.

So if I were to call myself Modern Orthodox...what would that mean? What would I be saying about myself? I don't think I would be saying very much. All I'd be saying is...I am more modern than Yeshivish.

I was going to propose a new label called "Orthodox Jews Who Keep Halacha," but even that is problematic, because define "keeping halacha." Halacha according to whom? Keeping halacha means different things to different people, just like being modern means different things, being frum means different things, being machmir means different things.

The problem with labels is that they spawn new labels. Once you name a group of people, you've got to also address the subgroups. And the subgroups of that. And the subgroups of that. You see how it's never ending?

I am increasingly frustrated with being labeled "Modern Orthodox." Because it says absolutely nothing about who I am or how I practice Judaism. I am frustrated with my own list of stereotypes. No one should fall into a list of types.

Why can't I just be seen as a Jewish girl who keeps and genuinely cares about halacha and the Torah, without being stamped with a label? I'd like not to be defined by a term. I'd like to be defined by who I actually am.

Why We Are Lucky

When I was little, I used to get awed by how lucky I was to be born a Jew. I would always hear people commenting how small a percentage Jews are in the world. It made me think, "Wow, what are the odds of being born Jewish? How did I get so lucky?"

It wasn't always clear to me why I felt this was "lucky." I was used to being Jewish. I was used to believing Judaism was the correct religion and that the Torah was true. I was proud of these things. I felt almost superior, knowing that I was part of this chosen nation. I used to wonder how I would feel if I'd been born to a different religion. Would I also think that I was practicing something correct and true? Was I being a snob to feel lucky that I was Jewish, that I wasn't something else?

As I got older and more mature, more attuned to the sophistications, complications, and subtleties of life and religion, I recognized things that I legitimately did feel grateful and lucky for - things that did not only pertain to Judaism.

The most important thing I came to realize was that I had the privelege of a God to turn to. There are so many people out there who are not religious, not of any religion at all, who deny the existence of God entirely. And I wonder, who do these people turn to when there is no one else? Where do these people find true solace? Perhaps they have trained themselves to not need the consolation that faith, that prayer brings. Maybe that works for them. I'm not judging, I'm only curious.

Regardless, I am infinitely grateful to having been born a religious person, a person acutely aware of the presence of God in this world and the fact that He is always there to turn to when there is no one else. God is constant. There is no such concept as God being too busy to listen, or not wanting to hear what you have to say.

I think belief is one of the most precious gifts a person can have, especially in such a high-pressured, fast-paced world where you really do find yourself alone perhaps more than you should. So many who struggle, who go through difficulties, who feel despondant and perhaps also lonely - so many of them are able to find hope in turning to God.

There was a point in high school where I was going through a bit of a rough time. One night a friend said to me, "Daven Ma'ariv and ask Hashem for peace of mind." The fact that I even had that option - the option to turn to God - is incredible. That, alone, is something to be thankful for. I am thankful to be the kind of person who is completely trusting in God, who is perfectly able to turn to Him in times of need and actually feel comforted afterward.

Lucky is a weird word because it's not luck that gives us the gift of prayer, it is God. But that feeling still remains - that feeling of being so fortunate to having been born the person I am. I am
fortunate to have Hashem to turn to, to confide in, to find solace in. And I am proud to be a Jew.

Sparks

I know someone who is not religious but who has become increasingly more interested in Jewish practices. This woman was aware that Chanuka was approaching but did not know when exactly it was. She wanted to have a Chanuka experience with her two-year-old daughter, so she looked online and accidentally searched for "Chanuka 2009" instead of 2008, so she was told December 11 (I guess Chanuka is December 11 next year, guys!). Horrified and astounded that she had missed it entirely, she quickly gathered her daughter, they lit the menorah together for all eight nights, and her daughter opened every single one of her presents at once. It was sort of like Chanuka on hyper-speed.

Only afterward did she discover that it was not yet, in fact, Chanuka. Not in the year 2008. :)

Relieved, she and her daughter started over on the real date of Chanuka, this time able to do it properly.

This story really, really touched me. The eagerness of this person to involve herself and her daughter in a Jewish practice - and the overall excitement this person has towards Judaism in general - is indicative of a desire to get closer to some sort of heritage and people they are a part of. And that's because, despite all our differences, Jews are a family. We share forefathers and mothers.* I hope, deep down, we all want to be together and share in our religion, even if it doesn't always seem like it. We're all a part of something so much bigger than ourselves, so we should want that.

Anyhow, I am so glad this woman and her daughter did not miss Chanuka after all.

Chag sameach to everyone who reads this blog!

*As an aside, when I was younger, I used to wonder why it wasn't the foremothers and three-fathers. :)

Strange

It's always slightly strange to go immediately from one group of people in your life to a completely different group of people in your life. The contrast is sometimes so stark, it becomes almost confusing.

It's like this. I know who I am. I know which parts of me come out when around certain people. I am very comfortable with that. Then, when I'm around other people, I become a slightly different person. Does this make sense to any of you? It's like I'm a person from the past, and then I start to get muddled about who I really am now. It feels almost like straddling two worlds. I have one foot in one world and one foot in another and I just have no idea where I really belong anymore. I don't only mean personality-wise, I mean hashkafically, too.

Unless I just create my own world called Erachetland. Uh...come visit, sometime. It's lonely all by myself in there.

Breaking The Box

I've had it with labels. They don't mean anything. You can classify people all you want - there will always, always, always be shades of gray. And as long as there are shades of gray, official 'labels' hold very little weight. Take the label of 'Modern Orthodox' for a moment. How many people do you know who call themselves MO? Are they all alike in their hashkafa? Are they all alike in the way they keep halacha? Chances are, not. I have friends who are Modern Orthodox and, for example, they wear pants. I don't wear pants. In this respect and in others, we're not the same and yet people would group us together. But if someone met me and then expected my friends to be just like me because we all call ourselves 'Modern Orthodox,' they would be disappointed and confused.

So why group anyone at all? The more labels we give, the more we segregate people into groups, the more separated we become as a Jewish nation. And, when it comes down to it, isn't it really all about being shomer Torah u'mitzvot? If we have to call people names, it only spurns more names, more labels. "Well, within Modern Orthodoxy there are different spectrums, of course, so let's separate it out into...hmmm...Left Wing Modern Orthodox and Right Wing Modern Orthodox." Okay, hooray, more labels! And you know what? People aren't going to be happy with that either because guess what? There's still lots of gray in there! Quick, quick - more labels! We must get rid of the gray! We must define everyone! Right Right Wing MO? Left Right Wing MO? Right Left Wing MO? Left Left Wing MO? Just keep adding Rights and Lefts to everything!

You know what? The gray still won't go away. It won't. Because we're individuals, we're not clones. As similar as we can be to one another, we don't all fall neatly into little packages. People will divide and divide and divide until, you know something? Each person will just have to be their own label. Sure, when it comes down to it, there will always be groups of people who have extremely similar hashkafas and ways of practicing halacha, but we'll all still be individuals. There will always be tiny things that make each of us our own unique person.

Holy Hyrax and I were having fun with an online quiz that attempts to tell you in which branch of Orthodox Judaism you fall (of course, it can't really tell you that, but it was fun to see what it would say). I took the quiz twice. My results the first time around are not important but when I took it again (because I wanted to see what would happen if I changed around a few of the answers I had been debating between the first time around), this is what I got:

The Orthodoxy Test
says that I'm Huh?

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What does it mean?

I give up. What are you?

I'll tell you what I am. I'm Erachet. And I just officially stepped out of the box and broke it. Ha!

Everywhere and Nowhere

Is it possible for a person to be both everywhere and nowhere at the same time? In a conversation where hashkafa came up, I found it very difficult to say where I stood on anything. I was raised in a Modern Orthodox home, but I understand a lot of more right-wing ideas. I am not Yeshivish, but at the same time, I'm more right-wing than I used to be. So where am I? Of course, it's impossible to put anyone into a box, but even on certain issues which require an opinion, I find it hard to give one.

What do I think about a co-ed environment? Well, I don't know. I understand that it's hard for a co-ed relationship to stay platonic and I totally understand why people would say they don't believe in co-ed, but I also understand the viewpoint that it's somewhat unnatural for guys and girls not to interact at all outside of the dating world. I mean, even blogging is co-ed and I'm alright with that, so does that mean I'm alright with co-ed?

Do I watch TV? I don't know. I hardly ever do but that's more because I'm just uninterested/think TV is a huge waste of time. Do I think there is something religiously wrong about watching TV? I...don't know? I don't think so, but would I care if I grew to believe there was? Maybe not? Maybe?

Do I believe in the Shidduch system? No? Yes? Somewhat? Somewhat not?

I can provide valid reasoning for all sides of these and other issues and because of that, it's hard for me to choose one of these sides. I can find myself agreeing with everyone! Sure, there are certain issues I am passionately opinionated about (like shomer negiah, for example), but a lot of them...I'm still struggling to form my opinion. But how can I ever know which is the right way to go? So many of my beliefs are not real beliefs but are more influences based on who I'm around. I know I've been feeling a subtle shift to the right once I started Stern, especially once I became very close with girls who are more right-wing than I am (I think?). The problem is, I don't know where I am anymore. I'm everywhere, I'm nowhere, I'm floating around in some other plane of existence where I'm somehow outside of everyone else and looking in and observing and agreeing with more than one way of life and not finding anywhere where I belong.