A Matter of Taste

Yesterday, I went to the tomb of Rachel Imenu. I love going to tombs of deceased holy people – but never on their yahrtzeit (day they died), because on those days, the tombs are packed, packed, packed.
 
But a friend called and asked if I wanted to join her, and since my car has been out of action, I jump at the opportunity to go with anyone, to any tomb, at any time. So I went, and it was pretty good. The downside: I was pinned into a small area with a few hundred other women, and I had a massive panic and tried to jump over the blue metal 'riot' fence to escape.
 
But once I was out of the crush (and I stayed out, which meant I prayed outside the building) – it was pretty good. There were two ladies there, dressed in shawls that covered their heads, but not their faces, giving out Rav Arush CDs. One was on modesty, and the other was on thanking for everything, even (or especially) the hard stuff, so I took that as a cue.
 
I spent a full forty minutes thanking for all the current hard stuff in my life before I even got near all the good. But at the end, I felt very calm, which is a massive miracle in and of itself at the moment.
 
In the car on the way back, one of my fellow-travellers asked me what I thought about the 'burka women' at the tomb. Was it modest, to draw attention to yourself like that by dressing sooooooo modestly?
 
"What's the problem?" I wanted to know. "If that's making them happy, why do you even care? One thing's for sure, it's a lot more modest than drawing attention to yourself by wearing an acceptably short skirt or tight clothes, which is unfortunately far more prevalent these days…"
 
She agreed that blatantly immodest clothes was just as much as a problem, but she still couldn't let go of the 'burka babes' thing. She said:"By dressing like that, they're sending a message that that is what modesty, tznius, is meant to look like, and it's really not!"
 
I said: "One hundred years ago, every frum woman in Jerusalem dressed that way! Did the laws of modesty change between now and then? If they're not having a go at you for not dressing like them, what do you care? Live and let live!"
 
We left it at that, but our conversation reminded me about just how fraught the whole subject of modesty is, these days – everything seems to be a 'dangerous' conversation. Barefoot, or socks? Socks, or tights? Skirt down to the ground, or calf-length? Flowery and flowy, or black and skin-tight? And wigs? Please. Let's not even talk about wigs, because it's amazing how quickly things can get really nasty when people hear what holy people like the Baba Sali or Rav Ovadia Yosef brought down in relation to a woman wearing a wig.
 
None of us like to feel that we aren't up to standard, I certainly don't. But if I'm honest, I know that in many areas of my yiddishkeit, I'm still not up to standard. I'm trying, (with some things, some times), but it's only recently that I went super-duper badatz, or blacked-out all the bare female flesh on display in some of my cookbooks.
 
Getting up to standard takes time, 120 years, to be precise. Because even if my kashrut is great, my iPhone is definitely not. And even if my clothing is 100% black, maybe, so is my character. So for each and every one of us, there is still some work to do, and thank G-d for that, because otherwise there'd be no point in being down here, and G-d would call us back to Him.
 
The problem is not what other people are doing – regardless of if they are frummer-than-frum, or the opposite. The only real problem we have, the only real question, is: what are we doing? Where are we holding? Sometimes, I also have fits about bullet-proof tights and blue shirts. Sometimes, I also start questioning why everyone has to wear black and white. I recognize that my issues are exactly that: my issues. My internal work, my character development. Stuff left over from before I attain a state of complete spiritual perfection (in another 80 years.)
 
And in the meantime, I'm going to listen to Rav Arush's CD on modesty, and I'm going to do my best to see what it's telling me about what I need to change or improve. (Probably, quite a lot)
 
But I draw the line at the bullet-proof tights, at least for now. Maybe when I'm 93…