My family just helped my grandma (who we call "Babaloo") move into an old people's community. Most people call that kinda place an "assisted living facility," or and "old people's home." I think the former sounds too rigid and medically sterilized, while the latter sounds too fake. To me, a home isn't simply a structure - it is built with more abstract things like memories, etc. Thus, I call these places "old people's communities" because there are old people there, it probably won't feel like home, but it can definitely feel like a community.
The day she moved in, Babaloo had her rabbi come to affix a mezuzah to the doorpost of her new room. Though she is very aware that she is removed from the home her brother-in-law built for her and her new family over 60 years ago, this helped bring some sense of comfort to her in her new situation. I thought that was strange. This mezuzah isn't from her original home. It was bought for her very recently. It has no connection to her in any specifically personal way. It is just some mezuzah. Just this symbol of a mezuzah helps her feel some amount of home-ness. It's a declaration of "this is a Jewish place, and I am Jewish, so I can feel safe in this place." I kinda get that. Wherever we live, we want our living space to reflect who we are - maybe we put up posters of our favorite bands or movies, paint the walls a little crazy, put pictures up of friends and family, display trophies from tournaments of all kinds, you get what I'm sayin'. When I moved into a house with 4 friends my sophomore year at Indiana University, I found this really stupid poster of Bow Wow at a local mall. I wrote "NO PARENTS ALLOWED" in really bold black sharpie and posted it on my bedroom door. For the next 3 years, no matter where I lived in Indiana, that poster was on my bedroom door. In a weird way, this was my mezuzah in college. It didn't have the Shema and/or V'ahavta prayers on it, it looked really stupid, and only a couple people (including myself) found it humorous. When it comes to material things I feel that most of the time their value doesn't lie in what they are, but rather what they represent to you. Babaloo's brand new mezuzah represented her beliefs and values that travel with her wherever she goes, and this poster represented my sense of humor which travels with me wherever I go.
I feel the same concept can apply to tattoos. We affix a mezuzah to our doorpost, a poster to our wall, a picture to a frame, and a tattoo to our body. In each case, we choose to position these pictures, words, and symbols so that they are regularly visible to us and maybe the people whom we invite into our lives. However, the conflict with tattoos in Judaism doesn't relate to the symbol, but rather where you are putting it - on your body which God made. Doorposts, walls, and picture frames are built by humans, while our bodies are, in Judaism, are considered to be made by God. I totally understand this perspective of not altering the body.
The perspective I'm a bit uneasy with, however, is the school of thought that believes tattoos are immoral and evil because they are a reminder of the Holocaust and Hitler's tattooing of Jews in concentration camps. Someone in our class last week brought this up, explaining how she felt that just because a bad person does something doesn't mean that the thing they did is necessarily wrong. She explained how the context of these actions can sometimes carry much more weight than the actions themselves. This resonated with me. Of course you can oversimplify the other side of the argument (ie: Hitler loved grilled cheese sandwiches, so Jews shouldn't eat grilled cheese sandwiches), but I think it runs a little deeper than that. Hitler tattooed his victims as a symbolic stripping of their identities. Nowadays, tattoos are used as a symbolic enhancement or compliment to people's identities. The context and intent are precise opposites.
If the discussion about symbols begins with the notion that the symbols and their location are most important, it leads us down a completely different path of discussion than if we begin with the notion that what these symbols represent is most important. Regardless, I don't think Babaloo will be getting a tattoo anytime soon.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Saturday, October 26, 2013
My "Kosher" Week
This past week in our class we discussed what kashrut was, is, and will be. We reviewed the original commandment which states that we should not "boil a kid in its mother's milk." Many of us thought this was kinda vague and didn't necessarily reflect our dietary practices. However, there was a general consensus regarding the intention behind these Jewish dietary laws - we should (in some capacity) truly pay attention to what we put in our bodies.
This interpretation of Jewish dietary law has recently become a lot more relevant to me. I was diagnosed with patellar tendinitis in both of my knees as a result of playing basketball. This means I cannot participate in any sort of impact exercise (which includes basketball, running, and anything of that nature). Because of this, my exercise routine has drastically changed and thus, my diet has followed suit. It was recommended to me by my doctor that, in addition to physical therapy and other leg strengthening exercises, even a small amount of weight loss would significantly decrease my chances of ever dealing with this kind of injury again.
Here's where I'm at right now. In order to do this, I am on a diet through which I consume a little over half the amount of calories I usually consume. In addition, I do not eat meals, but merely small snacks throughout the day. This sounds a bit extreme, but I usually eat A LOT, so don't worry. My energy level hasn't decreased. I feel fine from a purely physical standpoint. Mentally, however, it's a bit tough. I grew up in a family where we eat BIG meals. I love to make BIG meals. The most difficult part of this diet is simply that it is not part of MY routine (well, now it is, but you get what I'm saying). I NEVER COUNT CALORIES. NEVER!!!! But now I do, and that's a new and weird feeling. I only have to do it for 5-6 weeks, and it's still messing with my head. You may think I'm rambling now and may be saying to yourself, "Ari, what does this have to do with kashrut? Get to it." Here's the deal: even though I have always cared about what I eat, I have never really paid attention to how much I eat. That is, I simply eat until I'm not hungry and then I stop eating. That sounds simple and healthy to me. By eating about 60% the amount I normally eat daily, I thought I would be supremely fatigued...but I'm not. I'm fine. When we look as the laws of kashrut we may say, "I could never do that. I love these foods too much." In my case, replace the word "foods" with "portions." Though I was not thrilled to be on this diet, and only went on it in order to be able to play more basketball, I am realizing what my version of keeping "kosher" may be. In addition to paying attention to the foods I eat, I am much more aware of what my body needs, rather than simply what it wants.
Does this mean that in the future I'm going to not eat meals, not have dessert, and keep a strict count on my daily calories consumed? Are you crazy? Get outta here with that.
For me it simply means maybe drinking some water instead of eating a mid-day snack, having a cup of coffee and an apple instead of a big sandwich, or eating half my bacon cheeseburger now and the other half later. That's where I'm at with my version of keeping "kosher."
-Ari
This interpretation of Jewish dietary law has recently become a lot more relevant to me. I was diagnosed with patellar tendinitis in both of my knees as a result of playing basketball. This means I cannot participate in any sort of impact exercise (which includes basketball, running, and anything of that nature). Because of this, my exercise routine has drastically changed and thus, my diet has followed suit. It was recommended to me by my doctor that, in addition to physical therapy and other leg strengthening exercises, even a small amount of weight loss would significantly decrease my chances of ever dealing with this kind of injury again.
Here's where I'm at right now. In order to do this, I am on a diet through which I consume a little over half the amount of calories I usually consume. In addition, I do not eat meals, but merely small snacks throughout the day. This sounds a bit extreme, but I usually eat A LOT, so don't worry. My energy level hasn't decreased. I feel fine from a purely physical standpoint. Mentally, however, it's a bit tough. I grew up in a family where we eat BIG meals. I love to make BIG meals. The most difficult part of this diet is simply that it is not part of MY routine (well, now it is, but you get what I'm saying). I NEVER COUNT CALORIES. NEVER!!!! But now I do, and that's a new and weird feeling. I only have to do it for 5-6 weeks, and it's still messing with my head. You may think I'm rambling now and may be saying to yourself, "Ari, what does this have to do with kashrut? Get to it." Here's the deal: even though I have always cared about what I eat, I have never really paid attention to how much I eat. That is, I simply eat until I'm not hungry and then I stop eating. That sounds simple and healthy to me. By eating about 60% the amount I normally eat daily, I thought I would be supremely fatigued...but I'm not. I'm fine. When we look as the laws of kashrut we may say, "I could never do that. I love these foods too much." In my case, replace the word "foods" with "portions." Though I was not thrilled to be on this diet, and only went on it in order to be able to play more basketball, I am realizing what my version of keeping "kosher" may be. In addition to paying attention to the foods I eat, I am much more aware of what my body needs, rather than simply what it wants.
Does this mean that in the future I'm going to not eat meals, not have dessert, and keep a strict count on my daily calories consumed? Are you crazy? Get outta here with that.
For me it simply means maybe drinking some water instead of eating a mid-day snack, having a cup of coffee and an apple instead of a big sandwich, or eating half my bacon cheeseburger now and the other half later. That's where I'm at with my version of keeping "kosher."
-Ari
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
My Shabbat Evolution
Growing up, Shabbat was my most consistent connection to Judaism throughout each year. My family never really went to services, I didn't attend a particularly engaging or stimulating religious school (unlike TIOH Religious School!), and I never said a Hebrew or prayerful word until I went to a Jewish summer camp. Shabbat in my family was never centrally about religion or God, though. Rather, it was focused on family. Every Friday night, either at my parents' house or my aunt and uncle's house, our entire family would get together for dinner, each party being responsible for bringing a certain item for the meal. When I say the "entire family," I mean aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc. And when I say "every Friday," I mean "there were many nights when I was sooooooo frustrated I couldn't go out with my friends." I wasn't too popular in high school, though, so I have a feeling I wasn't really missing out on much. I just wanted to make my parents feel like I was. While we did say the blessings over the candles, wine, and challah, this consistency of family Shabbat dinners gave me more than simply a Jewish identity - it stressed the importance of family closeness, homemade dinners, wine, and personal relaxation.
When I went to college at Indiana University, I checked out Shabbats at the Hillel on campus. Though it seemed like a passable Jewish evening, it didn't reflect my Shabbat. At first, this was difficult - I was in the music school at IU and minoring in gender studies, and I wasn't running into too many Jews. But by my second year, I decided to continue my Shabbat experience from home, inviting friends (none of whom are Jewish) over for Shabbat dinner every Friday night. As the rules were from home, everyone was responsible for bringing something. Though I was only one who knew the blessings (some of them mumbled the Hebrew with great confidence), these Shabbat dinners felt just like home. The consistency, the food, the wine, and the relaxation were all there. Though my Shabbat dinners may not be deemed the most "religious" or "Jewish" experiences by conventional standards, they are what make me feel just that.
Now I'm back in my homeland of Southern California and, though I work a lot of Friday nights, I can still join my family for Shabbat dinner fairly regularly. The feeling of being there has never changed, and without it I know my Jewish identity would not be nearly as strong.
-Ari
When I went to college at Indiana University, I checked out Shabbats at the Hillel on campus. Though it seemed like a passable Jewish evening, it didn't reflect my Shabbat. At first, this was difficult - I was in the music school at IU and minoring in gender studies, and I wasn't running into too many Jews. But by my second year, I decided to continue my Shabbat experience from home, inviting friends (none of whom are Jewish) over for Shabbat dinner every Friday night. As the rules were from home, everyone was responsible for bringing something. Though I was only one who knew the blessings (some of them mumbled the Hebrew with great confidence), these Shabbat dinners felt just like home. The consistency, the food, the wine, and the relaxation were all there. Though my Shabbat dinners may not be deemed the most "religious" or "Jewish" experiences by conventional standards, they are what make me feel just that.
Now I'm back in my homeland of Southern California and, though I work a lot of Friday nights, I can still join my family for Shabbat dinner fairly regularly. The feeling of being there has never changed, and without it I know my Jewish identity would not be nearly as strong.
-Ari
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