How it all began…

As we celebrate the blog’s third anniversary, it seems an appropriate time to stop and reflect on where it began and where it has taken us.

We were having a silly conversation online (as we are apt to do) when Jessica showed Melissa a happy little image of a bird and a giraffe – the animals that we each have a particular affinity for respectively. It was so cute that it was determined that we had to do something with it. We threw around a few ideas and decided a blog would be fun – we both like writing and had some time on our hands. Ok, so that would be the project, but what would we write about? Well, both of our husbands were seriously looking at options for rabbinical school and neither of us felt like we  knew what that path was going to look like – for them or us, and so – we had a topic. We wanted a catchy name that didn’t seem to be in use… Thus Redefining Rebbetzin was born.

We had some inspirations in a few other fabulous Jewish female bloggers at the start, and many more we met along the way. We have formed connections with Rabbis, Rebbetzins, and a host of other amazing people. We have shared our ups and downs, twists and turns, musings and challenges – and have so much more to experience! We wondered if anyone would read our blog and how long it would last. We had no idea what the path was going to look like, but we thought it would be fun to explore. And if nothing else, it has definitely been fun.

At this point, we still have a long way to go, but isn’t the journey the fun part? Thanks for sharing our journey with us.

Headbands to Headscarves

As of this month, I have been covering my head in some fashion for five years! Those of you who have been paying attention are surely thinking “wait, Melissa hasn’t been married that long!” – and you are correct. Head covering was so important to me that I took the time to figure it out emotionally, spiritually, and physically in advance.

You see, I started the journey to covering my head once I knew we were going to get married. Though there was 18 months between the two, it was a very valuable time and growth experience for me. I always saw that one aspect of head covering was the visible distinction of being “off the market” for lack of better phrase. While no one would know that wearing a headband, ribbon, or wide headscarf  was for such a purpose – I did. The other driving factor was my propensity to headaches. I had to adjust to having something on my head and learn how to work that so that it wasn’t a headache trigger.

I started with cloth headbands and skinny fabric tied as a ribbon. Then I moved to wider pieces of ribbon and skinny scarves. Next was slightly wider scarves. Finally I reached the point where I was wearing scarves that mostly covered the entire top of my head or hats on a daily basis. The transition from that to a scarf which covered all my hair once I got my married was subtle, but vital. I had been building up my tolerance – emotionally, spiritually, and physically – over the past 18 months, and by the time I woke up and needed to cover it all, I was ready. I knew what I was getting into and was comfortable with my decision. Over the next 3.5 years. I experimented with how much hair I was comfortable having out and what sort of coverings worked for me. I’ve done chunky visible bangs to not a strand exposed, and everywhere in between. I wear hats, caps, berets, snoods, pre-tieds, scarves, and/or a sheitel. There is no one size fits all way to cover and my choice on any given day depends on where I’m going, what I’m wearing, and how I’m feeling.

I don’t know what headcovering will look like in another few years, but for now, I’m grateful for the past five years of experience and growth.

I now present a slideshow of a sample cross-section of my head covering styles over the past five years…

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Living History

I am still in shock over these experience, but knew that I needed to find a moment to actually write about it, so I am going to attempt to encapsulate two of the most amazing experiences of my life in words.

1) Maccabean Mikvah!

The 8th day of Chanukah, the women of Tochnit Alisa (the English language college and beyond program at Nishmat) had a lovely tiyul. One of our instructors live in Modi’in, just down the road from a relatively recently discovered archaeological site – a Hashmonean era site for Jewish ritual life. For those of you who might not be making the connection, the Maccabean revolt was in the Hashmonean era, so visiting the site on the last day of Chanukah was a pretty amazing way of connecting to history, both religiously and physically.

Post by Melissa, who appears here in the mikvah!

As we approached the site, it became clear that this was a unique find. The group gravitated towards the large space that was once the Beit Knesset (area where they prayed), however I was distracted by a series of steps leading into a hole in the ground. Could it be? Was I really seeing an ancient mikvah? Our guide began to speak about the space and referenced the mikvah and as quickly as I could, I scurried away from the group and back over towards the mikvah to investigate. I walked down the steps and just stood there – soaking up the moment. Here I was, standing the space where women (and men) had immersed thousands of years ago, in an era where ritual impurity had a meaning beyond what we can imagine.

I have a personal tradition to always think about my ancestors upholding the laws of taharat hamishpacha and immersing in the mikvah around the time of my own immersion. I always take some time in the waters to reflect upon their living nature and that of the history which they inherently tie me to. Now, that will take on a whole new meaning. I can connect to this phyiscal space as well and the emotions of really feeling that connection.

2) Holy of Holies!

Last week, Tochnit Alisa again had an outing. This time, we went to the Generations Center and on a Kotel Tunnel tour. (It was a nice touch that our guide for the latter was my Nach teacher!) One of the first things we saw on the tour was another ancient mikvah! Though this one was through a piece of glass on the floor because it was so very deep compared to where the “floor” of the tunnels is, it was still an amazing thing to see.

Women pray continuously near the Kodesh Kodeshim

As we walked along and stopped to learn about the history I kept noticing religious women bustling past. At one point, we looked at the various archways and discovered that just ahead of us was an archway, directly underneath Wilson’s Arch – which is the closest place that men can pray to the Kodesh Kodeshim, the holy of holies from the time of the Beit HaMikdash, the ancient temple in Jerusalem. It turns out, there is a place directly under that in the tunnels where women can also pray. However, unlike the men’s area – there are always women there and anyone who knows how to get there can go at almost any time they want. We stopped in this place and our guide/my teacher allowed us some time to daven (pray) there. I stood in place and sung my favorite meditative line to myself and was almost in tears. I felt so connected to the history of the Jewish people and the plight of the temple eras and its destruction.

—

While I am the first to say that living in Israel is not an idyllic thing, these moments of being a part of the living history of the Jewish people is what makes the experience so important and profound. I am not going to start saying everyone needs to move here or make aliyah, but I do think it is important to take some time to get to experience the places which connect us all on a deeper level than we can cognitively undertand or expect.

Advice Five (Plus) Years In

post by Jessica

In honor of a friend’s engagement (mazal tov!), I decided to write a post that I have been thinking about for ages, even before our five year anniversary. That’s right, R and I have been married for five years (and 4 months), and it’s been kind of a wild ride. Another friend, when talking about our marriage so far, said, well, you haven’t had a chance to get bored!  I think part of my reservation about writing this is knowing that not all advice is useful in every situation, and that my situation and relationship is different from yours. Not only that, this is clearly formed with the understanding that we are, as a family, very involved Jewishly. So, basically, your mileage might vary, but maybe this will be useful.

Dating and Engagement

You never know where you will find your person. And that person might not be exactly what you expect. We met because we were both Jewish students at school, but on the surface, we were not particularly compatible. We saw things in common that seemed to enable us to overcome our differences – one of which was our commitment to Judaism, living a Jewish life and raising a Jewish family. When we met, our definitions of those were different, but we knew it was important so we dealt with it – many difficult conversations followed. And once we decided we were going to go for it, we sought experiences that would help us become more like one another. Beyond our story, how many stories do you know that begin with “I never thought I’d marry someone who/like/etc.”

That doesn’t mean don’t be looking. Just be aware that it might not look like what you were expecting. Life is exciting and surprising.

I’m not sure if you “just know” that he or she is your person. But I did. I get this question regularly, and while being confident seems to be the norm, it doesn’t seem to be the only answer. But truly, the only person who can answer the question about your relationship is you. And it is a leap of faith. Lots of things in life worth doing are.

Engagement means things are real. Expect that the relationship will suddenly be much different very quickly. The stakes are much higher (even if the relationship was serious beforehand) and it will strain your relationship. Not only that, but it is the first declaration to the world and your family – which brings a lot of stress. Don’t be surprised, and don’t let it shake the foundation of your relationship – even as you are working towards understanding each other better.

Marrying Young v. Marrying Later

There is no magic age. R and I met ten years ago, and started dating almost eight years ago. Because of that, we have become grown-ups together. And that has had it’s difficult moments – we grow and change and have to figure out what comes next, together. We literally don’t know what our lives would be like without each other. And we’re okay with that. People who met later have to figure out how to mesh established patterns together. There is no magic age – just different issues and problems.

Creating Traditions

Understand where you both come from. Things that seem obvious to you can cause problems. For my parents, birthdays and holidays are something special – whereas, R’s family generally was much more relaxed about celebrating. Therefore, it was important for R to know what I expected, because it was so different from his family. And knowing what it meant in each family made it easier to plan joint events as well – fewer surprises for everyone.

Don’t wait, but don’t be afraid to change. That is, start figuring out your ways of doing things. For us, in particular, this means how we do Shabbat and holidays. This has changed with every year and every new living situation, but figuring out what makes us happy has really helped create meaningful traditions.

The Day-to-Day

Make time for each other. And choose to, again and again. Part of this “not being bored” thing I mentioned above means that our life together has changed a lot since we first got married. Each time, we have had to make the conscious decision about spending time together – either when we were working at Hillel and it was about making sure we had personal time and professional time, even as we were working together, or now, when we struggle through the difficulties of both being full-time students. More than that, it’s about making that decision every day, as new things come up. It’s always a balancing act, but an important one.

Well wishes….

I recently had a dream that I wished someone mazal tov upon hearing that they were pregnant and she responded with “Isn’t it traditional to say b’saah tova?”

This stuck with me. Even in my dream state where I knew the “traditional” response, I opted for the one which feels right to me.

While obviously we want the baby to be born in the right time when it is fully developed and able to thrive upon its entrance into the world – why can we not also acknowledge that getting pregnant is a big deal too? I understand the superstitious approach which drives this greeting, but to me it also misses out on the moment.

For so many people, the road to pregnancy is fraught with challenges and them becoming pregnant (and reaching whatever milestone they have that they are comfortable sharing the news) is worthy of celebration. Perhaps having run a prenatal health education program is coming in to play here, or my vast personal circle of people who have struggles with infertility, but I just can’t ignore how pivotal a moment that is by rushing to say only “in good time” (and not saying mazal tov until after the baby is born). I think it is a great time that they have become pregnant!

Is there some middle ground possible? Something that both recognizes that becoming pregnant is also a wonderful, exciting, and miraculous thing? Perhaps we  could say mazal tov and b’shaah tova when first hearing? Mazal tov when we first find out but then only b’shaah tova for the duration of the pregnancy? Or perhaps we need a new phrase. Something which conveys that we are excited, but that the baby should have a very healthy nine months of growth.

I really don’t have an answer here and am hoping some of you will weigh in with your thoughts…. What resonates for you?

the siren that shook my world

As you likely know by now, on Friday night the air-raid siren sounded in Jerusalem for the first time since 1945 (according to most reports).

In order to capture how I felt in that moment and to try to share anything, I have to share some of the events of the week leading up to it.

Tuesday – Thursday, D was on a tiyul (trip) with his program to the Negev, the desert region in the south of Israel. He called on Wednesday evening shortly after I had gotten home and told me to email our parents and let them know we were ok. While I had known about the increased missile attacks on our neighbors in the south, I didn’t think that alone was cause to reach out. That is sadly a normative part of life in that region. While we spoke, I looked at social media and was greeted by the news that Israel had decided to retaliate and Operation Pillar of Defense had been launched. So I reached out to my mother and mother-in-law to let them know that we were safe and sound in Jerusalem. Despite my reassurances to my family and rational knowledge that historically Jerusalem has been safe in these situations, I sat online reading every news source and got myself into quite an anxious frenzy.

Thursday morning was Rosh Chodesh (new month) praying together at Nishmat and I noticed the solemnity in the beit midrash (the place where we learn and pray). Afterwards, I learned that some of my peers hadn’t been privy to the amount of information I had been and didn’t know what was happening. We got a quick update and were informed that there would be a briefing in English that night, so I stuck around. While we were waiting for the briefing, we learned that a missile had been fired towards Tel Aviv. That shook us all pretty hard. We had our security briefing and left feeling confident again that while this was not a good place to be in, we were relatively safe in Jerusalem and while we should of course be cautious (and they encouraged the girls living on campus to stay on campus, mostly for the sanity of their parents) it was not believed we were really in danger of missile/rocket fire. (Remember, Jerusalem is a holy city for Muslim’s also.)

Friday was a normal day and though there was significantly increased security at the shuk, life in Jerusalem continued as normal. When the siren we here every Friday at the time for candle lighting sounded, D and I remarked about the nuances between the tone of it and what I had heard from videos about the tone of the air-raid siren. We wondered if they would have sounded the Shabbat siren if there was any fear of rocket fire in Jerusalem. I lit candles, adding an extra prayer for peace and for our soldiers, and we headed out to services like any normal Friday night.

We had just begun the amidah (the silent prayer which is the cornerstone of the afternoon service), when the silence was pierced by a shrill wail. The woman next to me and I looked at each other with shocked expressions that seemed to say “Is that what I think it is?” then peered down into the men’s section where they appeared to be focused on their prayers. (D reports that they were praying and all glancing at one other trying to determine what to do.) The four of us in the women’s sections all quickly grabbed our coats and ran down the stairs. We hovered on the stairs unsure where exactly to go in this historic building that surely didn’t have a safe room. One man came out and had us all come to an interior foyer where the men moved to finish their silent prayers while the siren finished sounding. We all stood together in complete and utter awe at what had just happened, some people looked very calm but I was shaking and my heart was racing uncontrollably. I was petrified. One man went out to check what he could see or hear twice, then decided to resume our prayers. He said quite simply, it was time to pray and that if there was another bomb we would come back to that space and finish there.

So up the stairs we went. The woman next to me and I exchanged a few words about how shocking it was and about how strongly everyone has always believed that there wouldn’t be rocket fire on Jerusalem because of the holy sites. We felt raw and vulnerable in a way which cannot be expressed in words. Every noise outside had us peering down into the street trying to grasp what had just happened. A few minutes later, another woman joined us and she broke down in tears after getting settled. I couldn’t understand what exactly she was saying, but she clearly was affected by the siren as well.

After services, D and I had an important decision to make. Do we walk 45 minutes to our friend’s home for dinner, or do we go home and eat cold-cuts. We decided to head up the road and see what was happening. There were many people out (a few less than normal, but not abnormally so) and there were people still hanging out in the few coffee shops and such that are open on Shabbat. So, we decided we would follow the lead of the locals and not be crippled by it and go to our friends home, with the added benefit that he speaks much better Hebrew than either of us and some of the other guests were Australian diplomats so there was a good chance that someone would know what had happened, and if we needed to be taking any extra precautions.

As we walked, we tried to comprehend the moment. There were fireworks sounding in the distance, which is a common wedding tradition here, but they seemed to go on endlessly. We wondered if something was happening elsewhere in the city. However as police cars passed in silence and we continued to see people out and about, we resigned ourselves to not knowing and to enjoying Shabbat as best we could. When we got to our friends place he informed us that there had been rockets fired at Jerusalem but they had landed outside the city (he had taken a moment to check on his iphone, as had so many others we later learned) and confirmed that the fireworks were much more intense than usual. We had a great Shabbat, but the sound which started it lingered in the collective conscious.

Personally, I cannot get the sound of the siren out of my head or my heart. Everything I hear makes me jump. Every low tone, every high tone, every whirring of an appliance, every siren of a police car. If this is my reaction after just one siren, I can only imagine the terror with which the people of the south who face this multiple times a day, every day, for months and years on end live. Regardless of how I (or anyone really) feel about the politics behind the conflict, it is impossible to not have your heart go out to people who live with the siren as the backdrop for their lives. D and I both agree that living amidst this for two years is nothing compared to what our brethren in the south experience and we want to show our solidarity in the only way we know how – by staying here and not letting it affect our lives too much. (Caveat: If our programs/MASA/the government tell us to leave, we will. Until then, we are here.)

It is my sincere hope and prayer that we can find a resolution speedily with as few lives lost as possible – on all sides, and that the people of Israel can continue to be watched out for by the Iron Dome (affectionally being called the Iron Kippah) and that the people of Gaza heed the warnings from the leaflets being dropped in advance of the bombings there..

(For those who want to know what the siren sounds like or what it looks like when the Iron Dome blows up a rocket mid air, check out this video a man in Tel Aviv took live.)

 

{I have turned off comments on this post intentionally.}

Mel’s First “Quarterly” Review…

Post (and photo) by Melissa

After three months in Israel, I find that people tend to ask about the same things, so I thought it might be nice to address the big picture of them quarterly. Both to keep you all in the know and for my own reflection on the journey.

So without further adieu, here is my first quarterly review! (Yes, its been almost an extra month, but with the lack of time I have it took longer than I anticipated to write it out. So the “quarter” may be a bit flexible as we go forward.)

Learning:

Amazing! Seriously, I cannot imagine anything more amazing to do with my time right now. Nishmat has been more enlightening and challenging (in a good way) than I ever could have imagined. With the growth in my skills already, I cannot wait to see where they are by the end of the journey. (D is also loving his learning and feels that Pardes is the right fit at this time and that it will prepare him well for the next step.)

Living:

We live in a small 1.5 room (a studio with a door to the “bedroom”) apartment in Nachlaot, which is an experience.  Luckily, we’re really never home so its not such a big deal that it is tiny and relatively sparsely furnished. We love how centrally located it is – we each are able to walk to school most mornings and take the bus home via direct routes, and have pretty much everything we could want in a close proximity. Plus we get to shop at the shuk which we have a love-hate relationship with.

Exploring:

Unfortunately, we really haven’t done much of this yet. We have such busy days of learning and had such a rough start here that we haven’t had time. We do spend a lot of time walking the streets of the city though, so thats something at least! We have done a few tiyulim (trips) in the city and hope to do some more over Chanukah when we have a few days off from classes.

Community:

While we live in Nachlaot and there is a great community here, it hasn’t really been where we’ve clicked. We find ourselves spending many Shabbatot schlepping out to Talpiyot/Baka where many of the Pardes students live to spend time with them. It is such an amazingly diverse group and it meals are always fun and engaging. We have also connected to the Spanish-Portugese community here and enjoy the one Shabbat a month we get with them (and any other stray meals we pick up along the way) As of now our favorite places to pray are Shira Hadasha, Yakar, Spanish-Portugese, and Addes (well, only D has been to Addes, but he enjoys it and at some point I’ll make it over there with him.)

As you can see, there isn’t really any strong sense of community in our experience yet, but hopefully as we continue to settle we will find it a bit more.

Food:

Our kitchen is a two burner hot plate, so we’ve had to get a bit creative, but it is a fun adventure – or so we are telling ourselves. Luckily we live close to the shuk, a grocery store, a small market and when all else fails – there is not a lack of kosher food ready for purchase. (One advantage to not being in Denver anymore, I suppose.) Oh, and many of you will be pleased to know that I now enjoy chummus!

Safety:

I said shortly after I moved here that I was more concerned about my safety as a result of the people driving in Jerusalem than any current activities of terrorists, and I still feel that way. However, the reality the number of rockets which continue to rain down in other areas of the country and the issues around our borders do not evade me. This is a constant war zone and that is scary, however it is only in the back of my mind and not something I feel that I face in my daily activities at all. I do not put myself in the regions where it is a larger concern intentionally, but my heart is with all those who make a life there for one reason or another

Surprising realizations:

Cats, clementines, and cobblestone. Seriously, I knew there were a lot of cats, produce was better, and the streets were old – but until I experienced these things first hand I could not have begun to really grasp it. Also, everything really is uphill both ways!

We are also very surprised at the level of homesickness we have going on. It has not disapated at all really since we arrived, and at times only increases. People keep telling us it will get better, but we are still waiting for that to happen.

We also really miss Sunday. We call is Israeli Monday now, and we miss it. If anyone can figure out how to get a real weekend day into the world of Israel, we’re all ears!

Rak b’yisrael (Only in Israel):

- The prevalnce of honking and fireworks never ceases to amaze me.

- Men in tight tshirts and kippot smoking while talking Torah at the bus stop.

- Busses which randomly leave one person at the bus stop when they decide they have enough people on board.

- The complete lack of structure or timeliness. Nothing happens on any sort of schedule, even if there is one.

- Religious men dressed for Shabbat and carrying around their guns.

- Soldiers everywhere, just doing normal things.

- Actually being able to find tzniut (modest) clothing in stores.

I’m sure thee are many things to be said, but there are the ones that are sticking with me now. If you have a question I haven’t answered, feel free to ask it in the comments and I will do my best to respond quickly and honestly.

{Note: I am here to learn and sharing that as a part of the journey we are on to being a rabbi and rebbetzin. I am not here to discuss the politics of this country. If you want to do that, please go elsewhere. I will not approve any comments which are political in nature. You have been warned.}