To Your Own Self Be True--Or Maybe Not?

? אם אין אני לי, מי לי

? וכשאני לעצמי, מה אני

? ואם לא עכשיו, אימתי

"If I am not for myself, who is for me? 
And if I am only for myself, what am I? 
And if not now, when?" (Avos 1:14, translation from chabad.org)


These famous words of Rabbi Hillel have been going through my head quite frequently. They seem so wise and so obvious, yet so hard to fulfill in practice. 

If I am not for myself, who is for me? 

When I tell people my story, I often get the response "How can you live this way? You have to be true to yourself".


I see their point. Living a double life is hard--very hard. I feel awkward in the frum world, like I am pretending to be someone whom I am not. I feel like a hypocrite when I tell my children that they may not play with a muktzah toy on shabbos--then go into my room, lock the door, and use the internet. I hate having to lie to my children to hide my aveiros, and having to explain everything to the rest of the world.


I can't help but wonder what it would be like to live life honestly--on my terms. I could be myself without needing to hide anything. Avoid the hassles of observance, the fights with my husband over religious issues, and the lies.


However...

And if I am only for myself, what am I?


My decisions affect others. 


Throughout my life, I have consistently been labeled as selfish. While I try to be a good person, I have never been the type to go out of my way to do chessed projects. I am terrible at cleaning and am therefore constantly called selfish for not doing my "fair share". (This is despite of the fact that I do far more than my fair share of things that I am good at. When I work on group projects at the school, the other people often end up being the group while I do the project).  


To an extent they are right. When describing myself, "selfless" is not the word that would come to mind. Especially in the midst of this crisis, I find that I spend way too much time considering my own needs over those of my children and husband.


As I know that I have this fault, I realize that I need to try to rectify it by focusing on the needs of others. And I just can't justify breaking up my family in order to avoid feeling like a hypocrite. What kind of person would that make me?


On the other hand, I wonder if staying in this environment is in fact hurting my children. When the very act of telling my children that the petrified log in front of the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History is 200 million years old sparks a huge argument, maybe staying in this environment isn't the best thing for the kids. 


Or maybe I can find a balance, a way to live my life, educate my children, and maintain shalom bayis. How? I don't know.


And if not now, when?


Who knows?

Repurposing



http://www.flickr.com/photos/supermariolxpt/5384166018/sizes/l/in/photostream/




 Despite my lack of homemaking skills and artistic ability, I have recently developed an interest in home decorating. Hopefully I will manage to make my home at least somewhat more inviting and livable. To get decorating ideas, I have started to spend some time watching decorating shows on HGTV.

One common theme that I have noticed on many of the shows is that of "repurposing". Repurposing is essentially a fancy name for taking old furniture or household fixtures and modifying them to meet the homeowner's current tastes. If one is willing to put in the effort, repurposing is clearly and excellent way for people to decorate their homes in a way that is stylish, yet cost-effective and environmentally-friendly.

However, the process of repurposing does not always go as planned. I once tried to restain some porch chairs, which worked fine until I gave up in the middle due to the exhaustion of being nine-months pregnant. My youngest is now three and I never finished the job because I did not take the effort to finish what I had started. Another way that repurposing can fail is when due to the nature of the item, it cannot be repurposed as intended. My mother once began a project of covering the old upholstry on her dining room chairs with new upholstry, only to find that the backs of the chairs would no longer fit into the frame. Therefore, she ended up with pretty but useless dining-room chairs.

While the term "repurposing" was likely coined by home decorators, the concept is hardly unique to interior design. In many aspects of life, people take ideas and experiences from the past and attempt to modify them to fit in with our times. Jews in particular have a tendency to try to repurpose Judaism in a way that makes it relevant to modern times. The early secular Zionists celebrated Shavuos as a harvest festival representing the importance of cultivating the land of Israel, and many of today's Reform Jews create human rights sedarim for Pesach.

If Judaism is repurposed, is it still Judaism?

Can Judaism be repurposed effectively?

The answer to these questions seems to be found in our interior-design example. One can repurpose an object in such a way that it maintains its essential characteristics, or one can repurpose it in a way that it becomes an entirely different object. If one paints a table, it is still a table. However, if one cuts off the legs to the table and sticks it on the wall behind a bed, it is no longer a table but a headboard. Both the painted table and the headboard may be much more beautiful than the old table, but one has been changed to the point that it is no longer a table. Therefore, it seems that certain innovations can in fact enhance Judaism and make it relevant even to those who have difficulty with traditional Judaism, while others change the religion so radically that it is hardly recognizable. The effectiveness of the repurposing depends on whether the repurposing made that table look better or worse, which is to an extent in the eyes of the beholder, but still somewhat objective. Similarly, if an individual wants to repurpose Judaism, he or she needs to ensure that it is done in a way that enhances his or her life rather than detracting from it.

Should one repurpose Judaism?

For many people who are Orthoprax or OTD, the answer seems to be yes. Just as repurposing furniture has the benefit of saving money and the environment, repurposing Judaism has the potential to save relationships and improve ones state of mind. By finding new ways of or reasons for keeping mitzvos, one can help keep ones family together. Additionally, people typically find comfort in the rituals of their youth, so finding a way to incorporate these rituals into a new lifestyle can increase ones peace-of-mind and even help one focus on the positive memories of the past.

So perhaps there is an advantage to partial observance?

Thoughts?



Clothing and Identity Among the Orthoprax and OTD

Image Source:
http://www.heavenwarddesigns.com/

Over the last few days I have been thinking about my last post, the one that I typed on yom tov while having my hair covered, and Undercover Kofer's response that he has also used the computer on shabbos while covering his head (except that he was weraing a yarmulke, of course). So here I am posting again on shabbos, reflecting on the significance of clothing to the Orthopraxer.

While clothing does not define a person, people throughout society use clothing as a manner of expressing their identities. Making a dramatic change in dress is usually associated with the individual making a dramatic change in personality or role in life.

This is even more true in the Orthodox community, where people are routinely identified and even referred to by the clothing they wear. A Litvish man is often called "black hat" and it is not uncommon to hear statements such as "Sara is marrying a streimel", when she is actually getting married to its wearer. For this reason, when an Orthodox person changes his or her way of dress it makes an even bigger statement than it does in the secular world.

Therefore, when a person does not feel comfortable identifying as non-religious he or she makes a point of keeping to the same standard of dress as before. Conversely, if a person wants to show that he or she is more modern and/or not frum altogether, the message is often intentionally broadcast through clothing choices.

In my case, as I imagine in many others, this even applies in private. I still often dress tznius at home even as I am committing aveiros. The only explanation that I have for this is that I am simply not comfortable (yet) with identifying as non-frum. I still identify as a member of the frum community despite not wanting to be part of it.

This probably also explains why some people who have recently gone off-the-derech dress in a manner that is more provocotive than that of general society. By dressing in a manner that is the direct opposite of tznius, it expresses that one wants to be sure that she is not identified with a community that she despises. Even among those who are still frum, those who simply wish to be more modern typically change their dress more than anything else, such as kashrus standards.

So, readers, what do you think? At which stage of your departure from obervance did you change your manner of dress partially or totally? Were you keeping shabbos while dressed in a non-frum (by anyone's standard) manner, or did you break shabbos while dressed as before?

On Hypocrisy, Inconsistency, and Fear

I began this post, erased it, then started it again. I hesitated in posting this out of fear that my identity would be discovered someday and my chillul Yom Tov would become public knowledge. What a perfectly ironic example of the points that I am about to make.

I am sitting here, in private, typing this post on Shavuous, "Zman Matan Toraseinu", with only the light of the shabbos lamp illuminating the room as I type. Not only that--my hair is covered.

Why? Why do I feel the need to cover my hair while being mechallel shabbos? If I am willing to use the computer on shabbos, why am I not turning on the light?

It seems that an inevitable part of being Orthoprax, or at least "prax" in public, is living with an endless stream of hypocrisy, lies, and fear. How can or should one deal with feeling like a hypocrite? Is it possible to live a happy and fulfilled Orthoprax life to avoid destroying ones family? How can I avoid feeling like a hypocrite when telling my children to keep things that I do not keep?

Thoughts?

Does Orthodox Judaism Provide a Healthier Lifestyle?

Recently, XGH wrote about the advantages of being orthoprax over becoming not frum. He wrote that these advantages include an increased focus on spirituality, morality, and community.

This resonates with me because recently I have been thinking about the question of whether it is worth it to be frum even if the Torah is not from Sinai. I once read something written by a woman whose husband told her, before they got married, that despite being an atheist he chose to stay frum because he believed that Orthodox Judaism was the best lifestyle yet discovered. He felt that in order to have the benefits of the lifestyle it is necessary to keep halacha completely in accordance with the letter and the spirit of the law. Therefore, despite his lack of belief, he davened three times a day and asked a rav whenever any questions arose.

So, the question is, does following Orthodox Judaism enable one to have a better life than one could without it?

My inclination is to say that the Orthodox Jewish lifestyle, at least in its charedi form, is a better lifestyle for children and a worse one for adults.

As someone who grew up in both the secular and frum worlds, and is now raising children in the frum world, I can confidently state the advantages of raising children frum. Children who grow up in the secular world are exposed to a barrage of bad middos emanating from much of the media, and even if the parents themselves limit or forbid any inappropriate programs, it is quite likely that their classmates' parents have not. Therefore, it is quite common for children to look up to and try to emulate the behaviors of superficial and morally-bankrupt movie stars and sports heros. Additionally, there is very little emphasis on middos in general presented to little kids in secular society. Frum schools and parents, at least in theory, teach children the importance of concepts such as not gossiping, respecting elders, and self-control in a way that is not taught in the public school system. As the Rambam states, even the act of keeping mitzvos themselves can help improve middos. A kid who grows up keeping kosher learns self-control better than one who does not. Frum children also typically have more siblings than their secular counterparts and thus gain the benefits of learning to consider others needs before their own.

Another huge advantage to kids that the frum world offers is the emphasis on learning. In most public schools, any child who is actually interested in learning is regarded as nerdy. The children consider learning to be a necessary evil and place greater value on those who are good at sports than those who are good at learning. Unfortunately even some of the parents feel this way too. Frum kids, however, recognize the value that both the Torah and society places on learning and therefore regard it highly.

So why, then, is the lifestyle not better overall?

To me it seems that in spite of the advantages that the frum lifestyle offers for children, it has significant drawbacks for adults. The frum lifestyle, as I discussed in previous posts, expects everyone to fit into a mold and thus removes much of the freedom of choice from its adherents. In many circles, one must marry young, not go to college, and have many children. Women are supposed to place family first and therefore face a very restricted list of potential careers. Men, who are expected to place learning first, also face a limited variety of career options and often end up getting to spend little time with their families. The limited career opportunities, combined with the high expenses of living an orthodox Jewish lifestyle, force many frum families to live under unbearable financial hardship and stress. These factors combined leave many people feeling stressed, trapped, and miserable, and prevent people from finding fulfillment in areas outside of the home and/or bais medrash. This is particularly true for people who do not fit the mold.

While it is true that people who are "atypical" struggle in secular society as well, they are likely to struggle less. Secular society, being as large as it is, has many subgroups in which everyone can find his or her place. Frum society is so small and so rigid that many people simply do not have a place within its confines.

Okay, so if frum society is better for children and worse for adults, what is the answer? Modern Orthodoxy may work as a compromise, but the problem with MO is that it provides fewer of the benefits for children while still having some of the problems for adults, such as monetary stress and a lack of time for family.

Is it worth it to sacrifice our children's childhood so that they can have a better adulthood, or vice versa? What if the children have the personalities that make them likely to succeed in the frum world?

What are your thoughts?

Welcome to my blog!

As this is the first post on my blog, I would like to begin by introducing myself and the purpose of my blog.

I am a married mother-of-three in her twenties who has recently begun having serious doubts about the validity of Orthodox Judaism and has thus joined the ranks of the orthoprax, the despised subculture of secret heretics who remain within the Orthodox community for various reasons.

I entered the frum community as a young teenager when I, together with my mother, decided to become more religious. My mother was always religiously-inclined and would have likely become frum earlier if it were not for her living in a southern town with only a tiny Orthodox community. I became interested in Orthodox Judaism as a young teenager when I realized that since I believed in Torah min Hashomayim, it was hypocritical for me not to keep the mitzvos. My mother followed me, at a slower pace, and ultimately became mostly-Modern-Orthodox. She would, and still does, break shabbos when her elderly mother calls and in other such situations.

I, on the other hand, became charedi--very charedi. I orginially became frum at the only Orthodox shul in our town, a Chabad shul. Then my mother remarried and we moved to a big city and I went to a "modern-Yeshivish" girls high school. I ended up deciding to go back to Chabad, went to a Chabad seminary, and married shortly thereafter. I took yiddishkiet very seriously and was very machmir in many areas. I kept a very strict standard of tznius, was very machmir about hilchos shabbos, and I davened and learned a substantial amount every day. I did not go to college because I thought that it was assur to do so and then I had three kids by age 23.

At that point my world began to crash down on me. I had grown up in the self-esteem generation, believing that I could be whatever I wanted to be if I tried hard enough. Therefore, despite being the intellectual type who also has severe ADD, I figured that if the Rebbe said that women should primarily be wives and mothers of large families that I could do so if I tried hard enough. After having a breakdown after the birth of my third child, I realized that is definitely not the case. Parenting is not my strong point, to put it mildly, and housekeeping is even less so. I found that I had little in common with other frum women who primarily wanted to discuss child-rearing and recipes, and I felt like the proverbial fish-out-of-water. I began to hate myself and feel like a worthless human being as I couldn't do even the minimum expected of me.

Starting college literally changed my life. I originally decided to go back to college in order to get a decent job, because I was fed up with the "bitachon method" of earning income. However, going back to college saved my self-image by allowing me to do something that I was good at--really good at. I quickly made my way to the top of my class and excelled at every class that I took (except for one class this semester, which will likely be my first college "B"). The fact that charedi Judaism tries to fit everyone into a mold, along with the economic problems inherent in the system, made me question the charedi system as a whole (I had already decided way earlier that I did not agree with Chabad), and once the questioning began, it made me realize that Orthodox Judaism as a whole is built on a very shaky foundation.

Now I feel trapped. I am married to a super-frum husband and have kids in the Chabad system. I want to be able to focus all of my energies on college because it is the only thing that I am living for these days, but I can't totally neglect my kids and my husband. I do not want to be frum at all, but attempting to leave a frum lifestyle would cause emotional and financial chaos for all involved. However, as a person who hates hypocrisy, living a lie is killing me psychologically. I also worry that if I stay then my kids will be stuck in the system and forced to fit into a mold into which they may or may not fit.

So here I am, sitting on the fence.