Irony’s Revenge: The Post-Modern Shidduch Date

Jewish Dating Tips #1: If we call ourselves single, we make ourselves lonely—A single is a person shipwrecked on an island. Adam HaRishon, the first man was single. Nobody else has been single since. When you feel alone and single, make your life more meaningful. Start appreciating those around you. Use the most precious gift an unmarried person has – your free time – to help others.

Black yarmulke? Check. White shirt? Check. Black pants? Check. Black Shabbos shoes? Check. Tzitzit out? Check. Sense of self?….As I walk down my street, telling a lie with each footstep, I feel the stares and the subtle resentment of each passerby as they rightfully judge me as something I’m not. I never thought of t-shirts, jean shorts, colorful knitted kippas, and tiztizit, as a statement of who I am before, but in this moment, I long to be me again. Or at least to get to my “date”’s house sooner where they get it.

When I arrive, she’s in the bathroom putting the finishing touches on her costume. From the back, I can already see the difference. The vivacious girl known for wearing clothing so loud that if it actually covered more of her body, everyone within a 10-yard radius would be in danger of becoming blind and deaf, has transformed herself into Frumma Blahstein for our “date.”

“Call me Shua,” I say, arms behind my back and avoiding her gaze as though making eye-contact were signing a ketuba kesuba.

“I’m Nomi,” she said, doing the same (I guess). “Laura, take our picture!” she says. “Derek, let’s make this as awkward as possible!”

“It’s Shua, and that won’t be hard,” I say. We settle on a position on either side of a plant and look anywhere but at each other. “This is going to be so much fun!” we say, almost in unison.

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Uniforms

I would venture a guess that the majority of jobs throughout the world have some sort of uniform. Whether said uniform is mandated by the employer, it is simply practical, or it becomes a matter of identity, the fact is that such a uniform exists in most cases. Israel is no different in this regard; however the Israeli uniforms can often identify religious affiliation or lack thereof.

For example, the Hasidim wear a long coat, identifying the sect of Hasidut to which the individual belongs. Knickers, white socks, black socks, and the variety of hat also provide identifying information. For women, the wardrobe is dark colors and very simple. Most of these women do not wear a colorful head covering.

The “regular” Orthodox are best identified with their black fedora, often a dark suit, white shirt, tie, and flowing tzit-tzit. Women might wear more fashionable items, perhaps with more color and variety. The kippot of the Orthodox and Hasidim are typically black velvet.

The “modern orthodox” or “dati leumi” wear khakis and a button down, or polo, best identified by the knit kippah that often sits slightly to the side on top of the head, tzit-tzit are sometimes flowing. Women in this group like layers and more colors. The “settlers” might dress similarly, however their kippot often cover more of the head, and they may be dressed more casually.

There are several other uniforms amongst those whose Judaism is central, I am acknowledging them but I will not go into detail. The final profile: the non-religious. There are variants here too. Many tight tee-shirts, skinny jeans, European style shoes. The women are less concerned with modesty, and their dress reflects that.

Please make no mistake, this list is not meant to be a value judgment on any group, nor is it meant to be exhaustive. Instead, I just wanted to point out the diversity in religious expression, as well as the relative ease by which people can be identified simply by their clothing. Yes, there are plenty of exceptions, but the fact that all these uniforms can exist here is certainly a testament. To what? not sure. As long as nobody is wearing a belt with suspenders and a bowtie, or a patterned shirt with a patterned tie, the dress should not matter, what should matter is continuing to build a unified State even as we wear different uniforms.

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Tradition

What value does tradition have? What is added to an action, ritual, or practice from it being something that has been done for 500 years as opposed to 50 years or 5 years, or compared to starting a new ‘tradition’ altogether?

As anyone who has watched Fiddler on the Roof knows – and judging by how often it is referenced, I would guess that a lot of people have (see this recent example) – tradition is generally thought of as very important in Judaism. As someone who is very routine-based myself, I can appreciate how setting out to do something regularly, be it daily, weekly, monthly, or yearly, can add significant meaning to that action. However, when does the switch happen where such an action goes from being a tradition in the sense of minhag and become tradition in the sense of halacha? In other words, when does such an action become so engrained in a given person’s or community’s life that it is no longer treated as tradition, but rather as law?

Rav Elisha recently posited the idea that a text – such as the Talmud – becomes a legally binding document, whether it was originally or not, only when the reader of such a text no longer fully understands the original context of the text. To me, this is an extremely interesting thought, and raises a lot of questions about what Judaism’s relationship to its ancient texts ought to be. However much one might like to think that he or she can fully grasp the context of a legal document written two thousand years ago, it is hard to expect that such a venture wouldn’t leave gaping holes in it. Does this not point to taking these texts more as signposts rather than as the foundational, unquestionable authorities on all aspects of Jewish life?

This is looking at the importance of tradition from the other side – i.e. can a tradition become ‘stale’ or no longer strictly relevant? An example that has come up a few times for me, most recently while reading The Source, is the dress code observed by the Haredi community. Is this really a biblical commandment, to wear black suits and fur hats in Israel? Or is this a tradition that has passed its expiration date now that they are not living in Russia? There is nothing in my view, other than a kippah, that differentiates formal attire for a Jew as compared to anyone else, and so it should not surprise anyone to observe that Jews tend to copy what is accepted as formal in the surrounding society in which they find themselves.

The biggest issue this raises, however, is not what I think about a given tradition, but rather how a community as diverse as Judaism is now can possibly hope to decide collectively about all the traditions that make Judaism what it is today. I can’t hope to provide an answer to that question here, but I see it as an issue of incredible importance that must be constantly re-addressed if Judaism wishes to remain relevant in an age where information is so readily transmitted.

Shabbat Shalom

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