Why I Won't Wear Tefillin

It is always with amusement that I listen to someone describe the fashion industry as "frivolous." There is a degree of frivolity, to be sure, as with most creative pursuits, but fashion permeates the lives of even the most oblivious among us. Everyone thinks about what they wear. No one would dream of going to an interview in sweat pants, regardless of how solid their resume is. On Purim or Halloween, costumes and characters are identifiable either due to a specific moment in fashion history or because of the self-expression that fashion makes possible. 

The Torah holds clothing in the same high regard, as the Written dictates every detail of what the High Priest will wear, and the Oral specifies how to fulfill the commandment of laying tefillin. Tradition tells us that the Israelites were on the lowest possible spiritual level when they were freed from bondage. One of the things that preserved their identity and prevented them from being a lost cause altogether was maintaining a difference in dress from the Egyptians. This is why many groups of Orthodox Jews choose to dress in a very distinctive manner today. Beyond appearances, however, I think Judaism requires a different approach to what we wear, and it is the reason I see no need to wear tefillin.

In the secular world, there is a lot of imitation in terms of fashion that goes on. Confusing style with status, people buy designer "knockoffs." When women began entering the work force in the 70s and 80s, they did so in "power suits" to prove they were up to the task. Rather than explore and express one's own unique potential, an individual mistakenly equates fashion with expensive, or success with masculinity, and seeks a quick, external fix to what they want to be. 

The Jewish people are commanded to be a nation of priests. It would be a mistake to think that this is accomplished simply by dressing like the Kohen Gadol, whose role is undoubtedly important. One of the many groundbreaking advances of Judaism was the idea that each person could have a relationship with G-d without an intermediary. In short, the role of priest is not reduced to a garment. Clothing in Judaism is rife with meaning, and on many occasions, it points to something bigger than the tangible element. In other words, performing a ritual such as tefillin provides a way to capture the essence of inscribing the Torah on one's mind and heart, much like a picture book helps a child to follow a story. 

I do not say this to emasculate men. I adore men. But it is no secret in Judaism that women are considered spiritually superior. Therefore, any mitzvah that men are held to must be understood as a step they are taking in an attempt to reach women's level. For women to imitate that step is not only superfluous, it diminishes our power. 

I did not come to the decision to be Modern Orthodox lightly. I knew that I would face more temptation and have to constantly be on guard against secular influences. This is where the different approach to clothing comes in: Contrary to what the outside world says, in Judaism, what we don't wear is just as significant as what we do. I don't begrudge men their tzitzit, tefillin, kippot, or anything else that sort of beats them over the head with "Please TRY to behave more like the women and less like the animals, mmmk?" My exemption from wearing any of these speaks to my ability to just get it naturally. When, that is, I fully own my strengths as a woman and take my cues from Jewish tradition, not secularism. 

In Judaism, we don't imitate; we innovate. If you are looking to grow as a Jewish woman, use the gift of your binah to love the Lord your G-d in everything you do, and lead the Jewish people--and the world--forward. 

cbg

Why Princesses of Long Island Was a Kiddush Hashem.

Please forgive my absence--my uncle passed on July 21st and I took much-needed time off to grapple with his impending death and then grieve him. We will miss him terribly, but it is a relief to know he's at peace and out of pain. I can't thank you enough for your prayers.

Given the title of this post, I'm sure there are a lot of challah rolls aimed at my head, but just hear me out. When the show first kicked off, I was as horrified as anyone. I think it would have been even harder for me to watch before my conversion--to see most of these girls think it's about how many Louis bags they own when I was dying to join the Jewish people. But as the season progressed, I noticed an emerging pattern: In the midst of the drama (of course there was drama) in each episode, Chanel, who identified herself as Modern Orthodox and was the most observant by far, was doing us proud. Before you launch into the laundry list of things she could have handled better, I think it's worth pointing out how few of us would look good under that much surveillance. As we go into Elul, there's a lot of talk about reviewing the last year, and I imagine seeing yourself on TV--all the ups, every single down--feels about the same as it would if G-d showed us everything He "caught on camera."

No, Chanel wasn't perfect, but what stood out to me was her constant willingness to reflect and improve. After an altercation at Amanda's White Party to launch her Drink Hanky (no comment), Chanel met with her Rabbi to admit she was not being her best self, chalking it up to the pressure of being "older" and unmarried in the Orthodox world. (And to any of the bloggers I saw dismissing her feelings throughout the season, you are either not Orthodox or not female. Trust me, that pressure is real--both socially, and because as Chanel gets closer to 30, her dating pool will increase in age quite dramatically. But that's another post for another day.) Chanel's Rabbi, by the way, was the only one we saw on the show, and not only did he not look or sound like a cliched Orthodox Rabbi, he dispensed some priceless advice that any woman could take to heart.

While the other ladies organized events around boats or fledgling businesses, Chanel brought them together for Shabbat dinner, her sister's big Jewish wedding, and a Rosh Hashanah ritual. She couldn't control the dramz that erupted before and during these occasions, but she also didn't revel in it. Rather than engage in lashon hora, Chanel encouraged both parties to speak directly to each other and make peace. I can't contrast her behavior with the others' without speaking lashon hora myself, but suffice it to say she proved an overall positive representation of Jewish women to viewers.

And that leads me to my point. None of the other girls or their families professed to be religious; some even mocked making a bracha over food. The one "Princess" who didn't reinforce negative stereotypes, the one you'd actually want to be friends with in real life, was the religious one. Bravo seemed to be aiming for a Jewish version of The Real Housewives of New Jersey: catfights and materialistic showing off with a little Yiddish sprinkled in. But Chanel didn't let them get away with that, because at the end of the day, Jewish culture is nothing without Judaism. Perhaps most impressively, she never let religion create a chasm between herself and the other girls or acted self-righteous. In the final episode, as she used Tashlich to heal an ongoing feud, she ended the season with the following (though I am paraphrasing) thoughts: "Not everyone is going to be BFFs here. But we are all Jewish women, and we have to come together. Our people have been through enough." Tell me that doesn't make you kvell.

If Season 2 continues to show Chanel acting as a leader, demonstrating what Jewish life is really all about, then count me in.

cbg