This clip is from Fiddler on the Roof and although wonderfully happy, it is full of conflicts and tension. It moves the blood. You can't watch that and not feel the primal power of the moment. My father's Hebrew name is Chaim which means life. My brother, who is currently visiting me and my famliy, always joked that he thought when people said l'chaim they meant to our Dad.
My mother is from this very background. I can't help but wonder occasionally, where might I have been raised, if the evil of the pogroms and holocaust had never happened. Would my family have eventually moved to North American, or more likely, would I be sipping vodka in Eastern Europe somewhere right now? Maybe I would be having a shot in the local bar singing l'chaim - to life.
These videos remind me of an experience I had in Jerusalem in the early 90's. Every Friday night we would go to the Western-Wall and Rabbi's would pair people up with hosts that would give us a nice Sabbath dinner. That week, I was invited to a house in the Jewish Quarter of Jerusalem. The host was a rather sour looking Rabbi. There where 6 of us for dinner that night. Three women and three men. We all ranged in various level of religiosity.
The Rabbi was not a good host. He did not make us feel welcome He looked at us like we were all in need of a good scolding. He went on to lecture us ladies. Among other things, he told us that we were wasting our eggs and should get married and have Jewish babies. He said that it was our role in life and that each month we wasted another egg.
As you can imagine, this did not sit well with me. I got rather upset, told the man that I thought he was wrong and got up from the table and left. The hostel I was staying at was locked up for another couple of hours so I had nothing to do but to wander the old city. It was dark and not the safest place to be on your own, however I was used to it so I took it all in stride.
Shortly after I left, a guy came running up to me. I recognized him as one of the people that was at the dinner. He came after me to make sure I was OK, and to stay with me so I would not be alone in the old city at night. We went up onto one of the many roof tops of Jerusalem and sat and talked about Judaism and philosophy. Neither of us even noticed the time until the hostels were all closed up tight for the night. We sat and talked all night, he was very knowledgeable and kind.
It was not until several weeks later that I found out he was a very respected religious Rabbi. I thought he was just a traveler like me. He never made me feel bad like the host Rabbi did. He did not treat me differently because of I was a woman, nor did he discount my opinions. He was kind and considerate and even gallant.
At the end of our night together he asked me if I would give him a hug. It seemed like a safe enough request. He told me that it had been 8 years since he had touched or been touched by a woman. We hugged for a while and then went on our way into the new day. The moral of this story is that traditions may run deep but humanity runs deeper.
The Rabbi was not a good host. He did not make us feel welcome He looked at us like we were all in need of a good scolding. He went on to lecture us ladies. Among other things, he told us that we were wasting our eggs and should get married and have Jewish babies. He said that it was our role in life and that each month we wasted another egg.
As you can imagine, this did not sit well with me. I got rather upset, told the man that I thought he was wrong and got up from the table and left. The hostel I was staying at was locked up for another couple of hours so I had nothing to do but to wander the old city. It was dark and not the safest place to be on your own, however I was used to it so I took it all in stride.
Shortly after I left, a guy came running up to me. I recognized him as one of the people that was at the dinner. He came after me to make sure I was OK, and to stay with me so I would not be alone in the old city at night. We went up onto one of the many roof tops of Jerusalem and sat and talked about Judaism and philosophy. Neither of us even noticed the time until the hostels were all closed up tight for the night. We sat and talked all night, he was very knowledgeable and kind.
It was not until several weeks later that I found out he was a very respected religious Rabbi. I thought he was just a traveler like me. He never made me feel bad like the host Rabbi did. He did not treat me differently because of I was a woman, nor did he discount my opinions. He was kind and considerate and even gallant.
At the end of our night together he asked me if I would give him a hug. It seemed like a safe enough request. He told me that it had been 8 years since he had touched or been touched by a woman. We hugged for a while and then went on our way into the new day. The moral of this story is that traditions may run deep but humanity runs deeper.
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