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The Cry of a Frum Single

This week, Rachel commented on my post about hishtadlut in shidduchim. Her observations came as a wake-up call to me, as they should be to the entire frum community. The Torah admonishes us time and again to be especially sensitive to vulnerable members of the community. Are we mindful of our responsibility?

In 1996 I was “single and looking”.  I was a divorcee, age 36. I had one daughter.  I was religious — not frum from birth — but, my parents, my siblings and their families were all religious.  My brother was a respected Rabbi in his community.   I was (and still am) an attractive woman, I dress nicely, wear makeup when appropriate.  I had a nice figure.   I am smart and socially adept.

But I remained single for almost four and half years.   Why?  Because I wear hearing aids.  I am hard of hearing.   I used the telephone. I could watch TV or go to movies.  I function so highly that unless you know what to look for you might not know that I was hard of hearing.  But SHADCHANIM saw ONLY the fact that I was hard of hearing.

EVERY SINGLE Shadchan that called me to propose a potential shidduch — they would say he is “perfect” for me. Why?  He is “deaf”, like you!  Or, he is blind. He stutters. He has a disability. He is crippled.  NOT ONCE did a shadchan suggest to fix me up with a “normal” man.  NOT ONCE!

I even asked shadchanim to please NOT to tell a potential shidduch that I was hearing impaired, with the PROMISE that I would tell him on the very first date.  There were two responses to that:  either they flat out refused or they would “yes me” — agree to my condition but they lied — they would tell the potential match.

Now, a person who has never met me or seen me, upon being told that I am “hard of hearing” might have a picture in their head of a person who speaks funny, who is hard to understand, who uses sign language.   That might frighten them off.  Until they would meet me, there would be no way to dispel this incorrect perception.  But I was never given that chance.

The ONLY way I was able to meet men was via the Internet — which back then was still budding — it was the wild wild west at the time.   But, I did finally meet a wonderful man.  At some point, while we were dating, and we were serious, I received a call from a shadchan.  Before I had a chance to get a word in edgewise and tell her that I was seeing someone she began to suggest me a man.  “Like you, he is DEAF”.

Finally, I stopped her and told her that I was seeing someone.  “Oh that’s wonderful! Mazal Tov!  Tell me about him!”  And so I did — telling her his name, age, where he was from, that he was divorced, with four daughters, and so on.  Suddenly she broke in, “Oh, yes, I know of him. He is VERY eligible. He is at the top of all our lists!”   Did she HEAR herself (oh maybe SHE is deaf???)?  “But not for me?” was my succinct reply.  Silence was all I heard at the other end of the line.  Then I told her to “please do me a favor.  Remove him from your lists – he is TAKEN.”  End of call.

I think our so called shadchanim have a LOT to learn about how to match people.  I think they have chutzpah to think that the CAN make matches.  You cannot know how hurtful the process was to me.  How many nights I cried myself to sleep, thinking “what is wrong with me?”, knowing what was wrong with me was something I could not change, and also knowing how wrong and unfair it was that so trite a thing could keep me from getting married.

Today I am once again single — albeit extremely unwillingly so.  My husband died a little over three years ago.  I loved him very much and I miss him.  But I am out there, trying once again, to find a husband.  Only this time, it is not my disability that gets in my way — because now, at age 52 that I wear hearing aids is considered more normal — part of the aging process.  However — it is now my AGE that is to my detriment.  The number of normal, stable, age appropriate men available to me is quite dismal.  It is disheartening.  I do not see it as a given that I will find a husband once again. I may grow old alone.

Now, my discontent is with how forgotten I am as a single person in a community of couples and families.  Couples make plans to go out — to movies, restaurants, shows, clubs, activities, whatever.  They invite one another to do things together — but they never invite singles to join them.  Perhaps the wives are insecure — perhaps they think I may have designs on their husbands.  Of course, I don’t.  But I cannot otherwise explain why I would not be included.  Invitations are given out IN FRONT OF ME, as if I do not exist, I am not there.   I am forgotten.  Easily and conveniently, forgotten.

My Rabbi told me that it is not true. I am not forgotten.  But he is wrong. Of course I am forgotten. Everyone gets busy with their families, their work, their friends who are couples, their own lives.  And they forget — there is a single in their midst who is alone — and lonely.

The frum world is cruel to us singles.  I frequently dine alone — even on Shabbat, especially on Shabbat or Chagim.   When and if we are invited to a simcha,  and the seating is planned — we are the “leftovers” — those that our hosts do not really know where to put us.  I frequently find myself sitting amongst people I do not know, while my friends (at least those with whom I was friendly when I was still part of a couple) are all sitting together.

These are things most of us, who are happily married and ensconced in the security of our couplehood do not think about.  I do not know what the solution is.  I only know how I feel.

So, where do we take it from here?


 

The Rain is Here…

Today was the first day of rain this season here in Israel. Although we’ve had some occasional drops here and there in the past few weeks, the first real rain came this night. Somehow, all my kids managed to hear the rain at 2 AM and by the time they were up at 7, running through the puddles was the first thing on their minds.

Even after rearing sabras for a decade and a half, I am still amazed by their excitement whenever the rain season arrives. I can’t think of anything I could offer them, short of a surprise visit to the zoo or a family trip to some exotic location that would bring on the kinds of smiles that lit their faces as they frantically searched for rubber boots and last year’s coats.

What is it in the rain that makes them so happy? Although Israelis are obsessed with rainfall and following the water level of the Kineret (the Sea of Galilee – Israel’s main water reserve) has become a national pastime, I doubt that the kids’ excitement was fed by anxiousness over water shortages or the looming hike in water prices.

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Counting the Blessings on Rosh Hashana

As I was serving buckwheat for dinner tonight, my super-picky 10-year-old had a novel idea. “Mom,” she said, “I’ve decided to think of all the food you serve as man [as in Biblical food in the desert]. The man tasted like anything people wanted it to taste, so I’ll think I am eating passion fruit ice cream and that’s what the food will taste like.” Before I had a chance to digest the announcement, she was sitting in front of a clean plate.


These types of miracles don’t happen in our household often (certainly not with this kid), but the timing couldn’t be more perfect. I had just come back from a class on the connection between the curses in Parshat Ki Tavo and the repentance of Elul. My daughter’s bright idea opened a whole new vista in my understanding of this relationship.

trans Counting the Blessings on Rosh Hashana

The Torah tells us that the man had the taste of a pastry dipped in honey, but it was possible to derive other tastes by cooking or grinding it. Invariably, every morning, it arrived at the Jews’ front step in the exact quantity necessary for the family. Who wouldn’t want to wake up every day to a room-service delivery free of charge? Guess what, after a while the generation of the desert decided it was sick and tired of the man. People are always free to choose their interpretation of any event, so with enough negativity even one of the ultimate Biblical miracles could be (mis)construed as a curse.


This brings us right back to the curses of Ki Tavo. In the middle of the section (Deuteronomy 28:47), G-d reveals the reason for the curses. “Because you have not served Hashem your G-d with joy and with gladness of heart from the abundance of everything.” G-d gives each and every person everything he or she needs in life, yet somehow people often find themselves grumbling about the things they do not have. I am not saying we should not want to attain new and better things (both spiritual and physical) or to change that which needs to be changed. The problem begins when a critical outlook gets in the way of the underlying joy for what is there, when people stop counting their blessings and choose to concentrate on the negative.


The opposite is also true. Every cloud has a silver lining if only we want to find one. With this attitude, even the curses of Ki Tavo can be viewed as blessings in disguise. One such interpretation is offered by Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, the founder of Chabad (interestingly, Rabbi Shneur Zalman’s birthday, Elul 18, usually falls out close to Parshat Ki Tavo). This is how my neighbors chose to relate this morning, when their daughter accidentally ripped the kitchen cabinets off the wall while trying to climb on the counter at 7 AM. They could have focused on the child’s misdeed, on the fright, on the financial loss, on the inconvenience of sweeping the glass from their entire house for three hours, or on the ruined Shabbos atmosphere. Instead, they decided to concentrate on one thing only – the miracle of a child coming our unscathed from what otherwise might have become a tragedy.

This idea of counting the blessings is central to Rosh Hashana. As the new year begins, we approach G-d with a request to grant us another chance. Despite everything we might have done until now, this year we promise to be true to our mission. And what exactly is that mission? Midrash Tanchuma (Naso 17) reveals that G-d’s purpose in the Creation was to establish a dwelling place for Himself in the lower worlds or in other words for man to reveal the divine in the mundane. By becoming cognizant of our many blessings, we acknowledge G-d’s presence in our world. The shift in focus from the negative to the positive frees us from the obsession with “must-have” to thinking about doing our jobs by maximizing that which we already have, not only in physical possessions, but also in talents, relationships, and possibilities.

As any parent knows, nothing puts a damper on the wish to give like an ungrateful child. As Rosh Hashana approaches, may we all find the wisdom to seek out the positive and thus become worthy of even more divine blessing.

trans Counting the Blessings on Rosh Hashana

Chanuka in Russia

This Chanuka, I’ll be going to Russia to visit my 96-year-old grandmother. If the book of Job were to be staged in the 20th century, my grandmother would have been the perfect candidate for the role. Widowed at the age of 23 (her husband was put to death by the Stalin regime for “sabotaging” the work at his factory) and loosing her first child as a result of negligence, exiled by the Communists and bombed by the Nazis, she endured everything without becoming bitter or loosing her faith in people. Even years of “regular” financial hardships, such as living with a family of six in a 10-square-meter (100 sq. feet) room in the same apartment with 9 other families (sharing a single kitchen and a single bathroom) did not affect her good humor.

Rashi in this week’s parsha (Vaeshev) observes that the story of Yosef came as a result of Yaakov’s wish for some peace and quiet. Often, we feel that life is a constant stream of challenges. Why can’t things just work out, we think. Rav Reuven Fireman once observed that since Hashem brings each person into the world in order to enable him to achieve a change and realize his full potential, He constantly gives us opportunities for growth. Life can be compared to playing chess with a world champion. There is no way in the world that He’ll let you get away from pursuing the path of development. For this reason, peace and quiet are incompatible with our task in life.

My grandmother is a tremendous source of inspiration to me. Whenever I think of everything she has gone through in life, I feel great appreciation to Hashem for sending me my small trials and problems. I admire her ability to withstand all the difficulties life has thrown her way and still retain her joyous personality.

Chanuka coincides with the darkest and coldest time of the year. Yet, it is exactly at this time that we light the lights and celebrate. As Chanuka approaches, I wish us all that the happiness of the holiday should stay with us even as we work our way through both personal and national challenges ahead of us.

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Simchat Torah experience

Like most Yemenite Jews, my husband’s family is very careful to safeguard its heritage, especially when it comes to liturgy and Torah learning. In an effort to preserve their unique Hebrew pronunciation (considered by some to be the closest one to the way Hebrew was spoken two thousand years ago), kids are taught to read “in Yemenite” from an early age. My husband has fond childhood memories of learning with his mori (Torah teacher) after school.

Unlike most Ashkenazi and Sephardi synagogues, Yemenite congregations do not have designated Torah readers, which means that every person called up to the Torah reads by himself (and he’d better get it right, or else…). Kids get their first taste of reading from the Torah around the age of 5 or 6, by reading Yaakov’s blessing to Asher on Simchat Torah (Deuteronomy 33:24-26). Once they become fairly proficient at reading, they are asked to read the targum, the Aramaic translation of the Torah, which accompanies the Shabbat Torah reading.

With Simchat Torah just around the corner, my 5-year-old can hardly contain his excitement. This year, he’ll get a chance to read from the Torah just like his dad. The two have been practicing for months and are now holding their final rehearsals.

Motivating Atonement

With Yom Kippur less than 24 hours away, I would like to share a novel thought I heard from Rabbi Reuven Fireman.

Though a person’s ability to mend his ways through teshuva (repentance) is a very basic concept in Judaism, like every other rule it has an exception. The Talmud states one and only case in which someone was prevented from returning to his faith – Elisha ben Avuya, aptly called the “Acher” (the other).

In his better days, Rabbi Elisha ben Avuya reached one of the pinnacles of spirituality by entering the Pardes (according to the Tosafot he achieved a spiritual elevation by intensely meditating on G-d’s Name) along with Rabbi Akiva, Ben Zoma, and Ben Azaai. However, unlike Rabbi Akiva, Elisha ben Avuya was unable to sustain this lofty experience and ended up renouncing his faith altogether. When his loyal disciple Rabbi Meir urged Elisha to repent, the latter disclosed that he had heard a Heavenly proclamation that his teshuva would not be accepted –“return, you wayward children, except for Acher.”

What about Elisha ben Avuya’s actions were so grave that the gates of repentance were closed before him? Was he really that much worse than other infamous characters we come across in Jewish sources? Even Menashe, the wicked king who swayed the entire Jewish people to idol worship and killed the prophet Yeshayahu (his own grandfather) was given a chance to repent and his teshuva was accepted. By gaining an insight on the reasons for excluding Acher from the fundamental ability to repent, we can shade light on our own power to return to the proper path and do teshuva.

To understand this, we must keep in mind that teshuva comes in two different flavors, teshuva originating in fear of retribution, and teshuva motivated by the love of G-d. Though both types of teshuva are accepted, the first voids the sin and clears the scoreboard, while the second places the repentant at an advantage by turning his sins into virtues. “זדונות נעשות לו כזכויות”.

What ensues is a paradox by which it becomes “worth our while” to repent out of love so as to make the greatest gain. On the other hand, so long as we stand to gain something by doing teshuva, our motivations are less than 100% pure and our teshuva is, by definition, not motivated by love.

There are just two ways out of this catch-22. The first is to make the repentant aware that his teshuva would not be accepted. once a person expects no gain out of his doing teshuva, he can do so without ulterior motives and ironically gain everything. Note that G-d’s unwillingness to accept Elisha’s teshuva is articulated by Elisha himself. He was the only one to hear the decree.

In order to enable Elisha ben Avuya, who was so intimately familiar with the spiritual frameworks of Judaism, to repent out of love, G-d created the illusion that his teshuva was undesirable. The Baal Shem Tov was put through a similar test, when following a set of circumstances he was notified that he had lost his share in the world to come. Unlike ”Acher,” the Baal Shem Tov was overjoyed by the newly-found ability to worship G-d out of pure love without standing to gain anything. (And of course his after-life position was immediately returned to him.)

The second solution to the paradox of pure teshuva is G-d’s offer of pardon regardless of whether or not we have done teshuva. According to the Rambam in Hilchot Teshuva, at the time of the Beit Hamikdash (the Temple), all but the gravest of sins were forgiven by the end of Yom Kippur even if the person did not repent. By granting forgiveness “free of charge,” G-d enables us to cleanse our teshuva of ulterior motives and to take our eyes off the “bottom line.”

This is one of the reasons why Yom Kippur is known as the day the slaves are released. While in the days of yore, slaves were set free on the Yom Kippur of the Jubilee year, this day also frees us from the enslavement of keeping accounts with G-d. Even though we don’t have the Beit Hamikdash and atonement is no longer automatic, somehow Yom Kippur empowers everyone to return, and even those who are far from Judaism find their way to shul on this day. The emotional prayers and the very atmosphere of Yom Kippur seldom leave people unmoved. G-d gives each of us the chance to mend our ways and come close to Him.

It is my sincere wish that we all take this opportunity to purify ourselves and be inscribed for a year of happiness, prosperity, and peace.

On modesty and spirituality

A Mother in Israel blogged about a sign from a Jerusalem playground, which had called on women maintaining a high level of tzniut (modesty) to stay away from other women, dressed in a more relaxed fashion. Most people have a gut feeling that this kind of segregation within a community is wrong, but in my opinion it’s much more serious than that. It breaks down our ethics and completely distorts Judaism and halacha.

An old dictum says that a chumra (stringency) in one area almost always results in a kula (leniency) in something else. Placing excessive focus on a specific halacha carries the risk of blurring the larger picture. For example, someone careful to pray vatikin on Shabbos is less available to educate his kids to daven properly (unless he goes to shul twice). Likewise, the growing preoccupation with modesty is leading our community to deemphasize women’s feelings.  I am not saying we should tell men “to control themselves” and encourage women to dress as they please, but as a community we have to include both considerations when setting social norms.

Reading the post reminded me of a story about Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, related by Rabbi Eliyahu Yosef during the last Binyan Shalem convention (Rabbi Yosef is the author of HaTorah HaMesamachat, an inspiring biography of Rabbi S. Z. Auerbach; volume two is due to be published after the holidays).

About 25 years ago, a well-known Jerusalem yeshiva high school employed a female science teacher. Other staff members felt that to be inappropriate and resolved to pose the question to Rabbi Auerbach. After ascertaining that the teacher in question was maintaining appropriate appearances, Rabbi Auerbach ruled that while it was undesirable to employ a female teacher in a boys’ school, the school would have to retain her until the end of the year, since it was too late for her to find other employment. At the same time, the administration was instructed to tell the teacher that she should start looking for a different position for the following year.

To me this story illustrates one component of Rabbi Auerbach’s greatness, namely his ability to find a solution that would maintain harmony between seemingly opposing values. Though he was very concerned about tzniut, this concern did not prevent him from ensuring compliance with halachot of Yorah Deah and proper interpersonal relationships.

While very few people are blessed with Rabbi Auerbach’s genius and sensitivity, we can all draw inspiration to take a more holistic approach to our spirituality. And there is no more befitting time to do so than during these days of repentance and awe.

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