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LARRY AND THE VEGGIE MEAL
Years ago I moved to Cleveland where I
had been offered a job with more money and greater
responsibilities than the one I had in New York. A few days
after I arrived I was whisked off to Columbus for the annual
statewide library association meeting. Since I knew no one
in the state either socially or professionally, it was an
interesting time. I remember going to dinner with a large
group from my county to a fancy burger joint. I wanted to do
well; I wanted to fit in; I did not want to make waves, but
I was a vegetarian. This was the mid-70s and still somewhat
unusual, especially in Ohio. As the waitress went around the
table taking orders, I desperately scanned the menu for
something I could eat. I was knowledgeable about nutrition;
I had read Adele Davis; I knew about protein balancing, but
this was a real challenge. When the waitress came to me I
ordered a salad, a side of fries and a glass of milk.
Across the table from me sat a man who
raised his head from studying his menu and looked hard at
me. Our eyes met. He smiled. When the waitress came to him
he ordered a salad, a side of fries and a glass of milk. We
ate; we talked; I had made my first friend.
SUBTLE
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For many years I have been
meditating on becoming an identified Jew by
observing the commandment to wear fringes. My
approach to the commandments is experiential and
experimental; I like to try to observe a
commandment and see what happens. But tzitzit had
me stumped.
I purchased this lovely fringe,
but I didn't know what to do with it other than to
stare at it and use it on our Web homepage. I
considered wearing a tallit katan, the formal
orthodox solution which is worn under one's
clothing. I considered wearing scarves and caftans
which had fringes.
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The most absurd idea I came up
with grew out of my Italian family's connection to
the garment industry. I thought, "Aha! Pinking
Shears!" I would just make a little cut on the hems
of all my dresses and slacks. It was subtle. I
liked subtle.
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Ultimately, I began to think that I
was becoming overfond of subtle. I was coming up with
solutions that would be known only to myself and I came to
believe that that went against the spirit of the
commandment. The deeper meaning of the  root called
for separation and I believed that the fringes were clearly
meant to identify and thus separate us from other people. I
read in Zechariah:
The many peoples and
the multitude of nations
shall come to seek the Lord of Hosts in Jerusalem
and to entreat the favor of the Lord.
Thus says the Lord of Hosts: In those days, ten men
from nations of every tongue will take hold - -
they will take hold of every Jew by a corner
(Kanapf)
of his cloak and say, 'Let us go with you,
for we have heard that God is with you.'(Zechariah 8:22-23)
COVERING MY JEWISH HEAD
As I thought about it some more, I found
that there were other ways that modern Jews had found to
identify themselves, both to Jews and to non-Jews.
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The wearing of a
Star-of-David--Magen David, or a Chai has to some
extent overtones of some of the effect of wearing
tzitzit. Of probably even greater antiquity is the
wearing of a yarmulka. In his wonderful essay,
COVERING MY
JEWISH HEAD, Rabbi
Hershel Matt asks himself why he wears a kippah and
what the effect is on him. He reflects that the
kippah has
become far more visible and far more
widely recognized as a Jewish uniform
than...tzitzit. When [he] wears a kippah in public
he feels, he
demonstrate[s] [his] willingness,
perhaps even [his] eagerness, to be so identified.
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This identification goes beyond the
ethnic; at some level it points to Israel as God's covenant
people, called to be "a kingdom of priests, a holy nation"
so by wearing the kippah he "serve[s] willy-nilly as a
witness and reminder of the Holy One of Israel."
Matt then goes on to discuss problems and
dilemmas he has observed in himself and others who wear a
kippah:
- wearing can degenerate into the magical illusion that
it guarantees protection and the superstitious notion
that the mere baring of [his] head will bring punishment
down upon [himself]
- wearing a kippah "may become so routine and automatic
that he will become almost oblivious to its intended
meaning, thus allowing what is meant to be an act of
piety to become utterly ineffective." He worries that
"wearing a kippah constantly, [he] run[s] the risk of
reducing the distinction between the holy and the
profane.
- there is a "peril of self-righteous display: of
always appearing to say, 'Look at me: how pious I am!' "
This peril lies with the onlooker as well as the wearer,
"who may be rationalizing his own lack of piety by
projecting it on to the kippah-covered Jew.
- "just as being identifiable as a Jew makes every
worthy word...and every worthy deed...into a kiddush
ha-shem, sanctification of the name of God ...so is the
converse also true...every less-than-worthy deed or word
calls [the Jewish people] into disrepute"
- by wearing the kippah, one "run[s] the risk of
becoming too strident, too demonstrative, too
proclamatory of [one's] Jewishness." On the other hand,
Matt feels it is possible that his concern over this
peril "is but a rationalization for [his] embarrassment
or even cowardice at appearing so openly Jewish."
- Matt wonders "is it not permissible, or even
preferable, for one person to meet another person, at
least sometimes, simply as one human being to another,
one image-of-God to another...and only thereafter
identify oneself as a Jew?
REFERENCES
Matt, Hershel Jonah, "Covering my Jewish head," in
WALKING HUMBLY WITH GOD: The life and writings of Rabbi
Hershel Jonah Matt/ edited by Daniel C. Matt, Hoboken, NJ:
KTAV, 1993, pp. 173-177. FULL
TEXT
1/2/98
© Rosemarie E. Falanga, Cy H. Silver
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