Hold the Hijab, Please

I noticed myself ranting and raving over in Mother In Israel's blog comments. Over the course of several posts, she translates (and comments on) the Maariv article, Neshot HaRealah (women of the veil). The article discusses a disturbing new cult in which a "rebbetzin" (I put it in quotes because I've heard no evidence that her husband is a rabbi) wears ten layers and covers her face with a veil for the purpose of modesty.

People all over the Jewish blogging world (Mother In Israel has a list here) are taking a stand on the subject. Instead of leaving my comments on every single blog out there, here are my feelings...

The "rebbetzin" has said that women should cover their whole body, including the face, and she (for 'religious' reasons) does not speak except for four hours a week. She rarely goes out, and encourages her followers not to speak to men, get into a taxi driven by a man, or even go into a shop when there is a man inside.

Here's my main argument:

Judaism is about living in harmony with the world, not about living outside it.

Throughout the Torah, we are told how to experience but harness our animalistic side. We are supposed to taste the food, but make a bracha (blessing) to remember where it came from. We are supposed to enjoy making love, but only with our spouse. Even if we fall in love with a captive of war, we may marry her, but only when we are convinced that it is true love and not the heat of the moment.

We're supposed to search for the balance and the way to make even the most mundane things spiritually holy.

Putting my baby to bed at night is made holy by saying shema for her. Waking my husband in the morning is made holy by washing hands and helping him get organized to put on tfillin. My husband's work in a mundane job is made holy by the tzedaka he gives from his salary, and the home that he supports. Even my husband's hobby of juggling is made holy by the fact that he uses it to entertain sick children, to bring joy to Purim at our shul, and for sukkot to remind people of the simchat beit hashoeva.

Even grocery shopping is holy when you think about your Shabbat table, the guests you want to please, and the joy you bring to your spouse by preparing something they like.

Heck, even going to the bathroom is part of a holy ritual in which we give thanks to G-d for making our bodies function as they should!

So please, "rebbetzin" stop hiding from the world, and learn to live in it.

How did I get here?

Sometimes, I'm not sure who I am. I mean, yes, I know my name. But sometimes, I look in the mirror and I'm confused as to how I got to be where I am.

Interestingly enough, when I started high school, my dream was to live in Israel, and be married and have a baby and cover my hair...

And that's where I am now.

But somewhere in the middle, I stepped off of that path. I became someone who got her friends to draw all over her jeans and then wore them in public. I went to dance parties with trance music (except I had to leave because the trance stuff makes me feel like my head's about to explode). I went to outdoor rock concerts and danced with men I'd never met. I learned all the words to the Israeli songs so I could sing along at the concerts with everyone else. I bought an incredibly short sleeveless dress, and wore it outside. Of course, I walked around feeling entirely naked, but it was kind of a liberating feeling. Of course, it was loose and no one even bothered to give me an appreciative glance, but hey, I felt undressed.

A bit over a year ago, I went to a concert in the Sultan's Pool with friends, and one of my favorite bands, Tipex (also called Teapacks) played. I jumped up and down and screamed like any other excited fan, and I got the STRANGEST looks. I guess it's just not normal for a woman in a long skirt with a head-covering to jump around like a teenager.

The last time I was at a concert was May. Considering that I gave birth in the end of June, I didn't have to be reminded not to jump. Kinneret did enough jumping for both of us - of course, I didn't know she was Kinneret at the time.

All this is to say that I'm not sure what really is me. Am I really the woman with the manicured nails and the wedding band and the long skirt and the frumpy head-coverings? Or am I the girl in the painted jeans? Can I be both? If I am the religious woman, how much of that other part of me do I have to give up? And what if sometimes it's too much? What if listening to a concert on the radio and dancing in my living room just isn't enough?

Those moments, being that other person, they made me feel alive in a way that is totally different from what I feel in my current life. I know that life isn't meant to be skydiving and dance parties. And I know that I've been to incredible juggling festivals. And of course, nothing in that world could ever compare to the feelings I have for Yaakov and Kinneret. No rock concert can compare to the beauty of having my baby's fingers wrapped around my own finger.

Would I trade my life now for that life? Absolutely not. But sometimes I wonder if I really have to let go of all of it to get to where I am now.