He looked like a young Rabbi, but as I get older, I can no longer discern people's ages, as I still don't see myself being as old as I am.
We were at this bakery near where I live. It is a bakery that has the worst service, but the best baked goods. I go there to see if the service will ever get better. It never does. The last time I was there, the credit card machine didn't work, and they were appalled that I didn't have cash. Today, they didn't have change, and asked if I had a smaller bill.
"You have change. You have a million customers in here. I know you have change," I said.
Sometimes, I initially get treated poorly, condescendingly, I think, because I'm small. Earlier in my teaching career, I was once rejected for a job because of my stature.
"Your lesson was good, but, and I'm saying this off the record, you're just too small. They won't respect you," one of the teachers sent to interview me said.
I didn't respond. I didn't challenge her five additional inches and 25 pounds. Her narrative was set. I had no chance at getting the job. She was wrong, by the way. I can handle anything and anyone. That's why I got the job I have now. You think I can't handle a teenager having a meltdown. When I was 22 years old I interviewed Coach Bob Knight. He yelled at me five times during that interview. I didn't blink.
My mom has always told me that being short was beneficial - people were nicer when you were petite. I've learned in life that I don't really need people to only be nice to me; I need them to be fair and honest. When my dad died I realized the loss was so immense not just because he was my father, but because there was one less fair and honest person in the world.
...
The very tall, also friendly, Rabbi was buying a lot of food at the, also, overpriced bakery with bad service.
"Do you have a club membership?" the barista asked the Rabbi.
"Should I?" he asked rhetorically.
"You actually save a lot of money," I said, regretfully. Since moving to Israel, I've adopted a trait of inserting myself into other people's business. Okay, I've always had this trait, but it's accepted here, so it's emboldened an already questionable practice.
"But what do I lose?" the Rabbi asked.
This was an interesting question, I believe, about privacy. However, the Rabbi had talked and given his contact information to at least twenty strangers since I had entered the bakery, so I was unsure why he was concerned about privacy. He was telling people that he had started a new congregation. No, there hadn't been any kind of bad blood with the other congregation. There was just a lot of people in the neighborhood and room for another synagogue. This one he would be speaking to the congregants in English. There were already 200 people who were attending each shabbos.
 |
| The right kind of kippa. |
"You save 8% on every purchase. That's a lot of shabbos challas*" I said.
Normally, I would not talk to an Orthodox Rabbi, but he was wearing the right kind of kippa, the kind of kippa that told me as a woman it was okay to talk to him. The Chabad Rabbi in my building, I don't speak to, even though he's supposedly the nicest guy in Israel because he wears a black hat. His wife is very nice. One of his daughters, about age 11, recently helped me get my groceries in to the elevator. Let me tell you, that was extremely nice. I told her mother, the Rebbetzin about it when I saw her in the elevator. She then asked me if I was new to the building. I told her I had lived there for 8 years. She looked at me like it was not possible.
...
"Wow, that is a lot and I come here every week, thanks!" the tall, friendly Rabbi said.
"No problem. Rabbi, may I ask you a question," I asked.
You could see he was not expecting this. I was wearing my standard non-teaching gear: yoga pants from 20 pounds ago, a school t-shirt, and tennis shoes. I led him outside as the bakery was very loud.
"You see, my dad passed away in October. And I would like to go to a minyan to say kaddish for him. I grew up going to an Orthodox day school and a Conservative synagogue. I would understand how to do this in the US. I don't want to stand up for the kaddish prayer and make people uncomfortable in an Orthodox synagogue or to be made uncomfortable, especially during this period of mourning. At your synagogue, will women be able to say kaddish?"
The Rabbi waved to five more people and answered, "Well actually women do not say kaddish. Women do not need to say time bound prayers like men because they are more spiritual and,"
"Yes, I'm educated in Judaism and respectful and..."
"Eclectic..."
"Huh? No, I'm not eclectic. I was just wondering."
"You know, there's a web site where you can give tsedaka and someone will take on the mitzvah of saying kaddish for your father," he suggested.
"That's not good enough for me," I told him as he waved to more people. I wondered if his hand tired from waving and mouth from smiling. "Besides, my brother is saying kaddish for my dad."
"Well, that's great!" he exclaimed. "The mitzvah is fulfilled. Your brother is carrying the weight."
At that moment, a man approached the Rabbi who had been on the United flight back with me, Lior and the kids after we returned from shiva.
It was almost like a message from my dad, "Forget it, Ranee, he doesn't get it. Besides, you're not waking up for shacharis anyways."
I couldn't remember his name, but his kids and my kids play at the park frequently. He is in his early 50s and has three young boys. We greeted each other as people do who don't know each other's names but should after years of sitting next to each other on a park bench.
 |
| This is a real thing. |
"Look" the Rabbi said. "Everyone in the neighborhood knows each other."
"I see her more on a plane than in person," the man said and I walked away
"What's your name?" the Rabbi shouted.
I told him, continued home, and began to cry.
....
As a mourner who lives so far away from my family, I mourn in isolation with the love and support of my husband and children. There is no one here who knew my dad. There's no place for me to go that will really give me comfort, so the weight of my emotions fall, as much as I will let them, which isn't much, on my husband and a couple close friends.
When I interact with people here outside of school, people who've spent time with me, often know very little about me or assume I know little about anything. I can tell them I'm a teacher. I can tell them my background. I can tell them what I teach. It does not matter. My students treat me well. They appreciate my knowledge and how well I teach, and so do their parents. They are who matter. But there are times when I wish someone could scan my brain and then start speaking to me. Although that could prove problematic for other reasons.
And then I think of my brother, Eric, who is carrying that weight ...
and my dad ... who did for so many people for so many years when he went to synagogue every day.
And then I think of the Beatles:
Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight
Once there was a way, to get back homeward
Once there was a way, to get back home
Sleep pretty darling, do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby
Golden slumbers fill your eyes
Smiles await you when you rise
Sleep pretty darling, do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby
Once there was a way, to get back homeward
Once there was a way, to get back home
Sleep pretty darling, don't you cry
I'll sing a lullaby
And in the end
The love you take
Is equal to the love
You make
Golden slumbers fill your eyes
Smiles await you when you rise
Sleep pretty darling, do not cry
I will sing a lullaby
Boy, you're gonna carry that weight
Carry that weight a long time
Boy, you're gonna carry that weight
Carry that weight a long time
I never give you my pillow
I only send you my invitations
And in the middle of the celebrations
I break down
Boy, you're gonna carry that weight
Carry that weight a long time
Boy, you're gonna carry that weight
Carry that weight a long time
*Glossary
shabbos challos: sabbath bread in the Ashkenazi accent the Rabbi was speaking in
kippa: head covering observant Jews wear
Chabad: an outreach movement to connect Jews to Orthodox Judaism
minyan: a quorum of ten men in Orthodox Judaism; 10 men or women in Reform or Conservative Judaism
kaddish: in this case, the mourner's prayer said 2 or 3 times daily
