No-Man’s Land

One of the things that kept me circling holiness for years was the idea of having to conform, at least externally, to other people's ideas of how a religious person should be. That idea kept me in my jeans and with uncovered hair for almost a decade, especially when I'd see an externally 'religious'-looking person acting or speaking like a jerk.
 
Having a kippa on your head was a responsibility, and I didn't think it should be taken lightly. When my husband decided to start wearing one full-time in the UK, it initially caused me a lot of anguish, because I wasn't really sure that we were on the spiritual level to do it justice.
 
When I moved to Israel nine years' ago, G-d shattered a lot of my resistance to dressing the part by making it clear that in the Holy Land, in the Palace of the King, a certain minimum amount of decorum is required, if you don't want to get into a lot of trouble.
 
It took me years to get to this stage, but I now cover my hair 24/7; I started wearing tight-sock things a few months ago, and my skirts are always ankle skimming. But if you saw me, you'd find it very hard to categorise my religious observance by my appearance, because I don't fit any of the standard boxes – and that's exactly how I like it.
 
I spent many years trying and failing to fit in with all the social expectations, and the religious expectations, and the cultural expectations, and the more I tried to 'blend', the more uncomfortable I felt and the more I stuck out.
 
So when my husband told me we needed to move to Jerusalem to be closer to his yeshiva, I had massive, massive anxiety about where we would live. Because while part of me would love to be part of my husband's yeshiva community, I already knew that we just wouldn't fit.
 
Internally, I probably tick most of the boxes: I don't have internet in the house; I don't read papers or listen to the news; we only listen to kosher music, I chucked out all my Steven King novels years' ago. Internally, I'm at least part way to being Meah Shearim material.
 
But externally? Externally, I'm really not there. Externally, I can't abide all the judgement calls people make about other people based on how big their kippa is or what shade of black it is. I can't understand how wearing knee-skimming tight skirts with pantyhose is meant to be better than a loose-fitting long skirt with a pair of ankle socks. I don't get how super-attractive wigs are meant to be the height of modesty, or how a person can have really long payot and still hack up his phlegm all over the pavement right next to where I'm standing, before taking another long puff on his cigarette.
 
This week, I tried to get my children into some sort of summer camp for a few weeks, so they can try and make some new friends. After a few phone calls, I quickly realised that they also don't 'fit' into any of the usual religious boxes, which means it's going to be very hard, at least initially. They don't want to ALWAYS wear long socks – so that makes them 'too rebellious' and risky for the more religious crowd.
 
They don't have internet, watch films or listen to goyish music – so that's a whole other sector of society X-ed off.
 
I'd love to shortcut the whole process and go the 'Breslev' route – but again, my sense of honesty is stopping me. OK, I've been doing hitbodedut for eight years now, I've been to Uman six times, my husband learns (and teaches) in a Breslev yeshiva…But. But I can't claim that I'm a Breslever yet, or anything close to it. That's such a huge level to aspire to. I can't reach that in a year, or two years, or probably, even a decade. Every time my husband mentions 'the black hat' to me I break out in hives. Why does he have to wear a hat, to be taken seriously as a religious Jew? I don't get it.
 
So in the meantime, I'm in No Man's Land, along with my children. I don't want them to hang out with the film-watching 'modern' crowd; and the frummer crowd don't want us because I'm lacking a tichel and they don't wear socks.
 
I know what G-d wants for me. He wants me to gird my loins, and start reaching out to the other sincere misfits who take G-d and yiddishkeit very seriously, but who also just can't seem to 'blend'.
 
I know He wants that, and I want to give it to Him. But I need your help, dear reader. If you live in Jerusalem, contact me at the email below and let's start trying to build a community of believing Breslever-wannabe honest misfits. ( I know, I'm probably not selling it so well.)
 
It still doesn't solve the problem of who my kids will hang out with over Shabbat, but hopefully by the time my grandkids show up, No Mans Land will hopefully look a little more friendly.
 
 
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You're welcome to visit Rivka Levy's personal website at http://www.emunaroma.com