MY LOUSY SHOPPING-FOR-A-DRESS EXPERIENCE

The other day I went shopping for a dress. Not to worry—it wasn’t for me. Actually, it wasn’t for anybody. I just decided to get on the Internet and google “Bat Mitzvah dress” to see what fashions are being touted these days. I knew I had landed an authentic site when minimizing each close-up of a model, the screen flashed me a “L’chayim!”

One of the last people on earth who should be writing about fashion is me. This may be one of those subliminal, oppositional responses to my father who was a custom tailor men’s clothing designer (in his language—a cutter), or just a personal distaste for shopping. If I need a couple more shirts or a new pair of pants, I head for Sears, and if I don’t find anything there, my safety store is Costco. Iris Apfel, had she the power, would have me arrested for crimes against clothing. Nonetheless, I do think about clothes because Jewish tradition does, and believe it or not, the Torah has what to say about it.

For example, the Torah is concerned about materials, and forbids the combination of wool and linen, known as sha'atnez (pronounced: sha-at-NEZ; see Deuteronomy 22:11). In another example, the Torah instructs us to place tzitzit, fringes, on the four corners of our garments in order to “look at [them] and recall all the commandments of the Lord” (Numbers 15:39). And in the Talmud, we read: “Rav Huna bareh d’Rav Yehoshua wouldn’t walk four amot (literally “cubits,” a cubit approximating about 16 inches) with an uncovered head. He said: the Divine Presence is above my head” (Kiddushin 31a). His custom evolved into the widely-observed tradition of kippah or head covering which we wear during prayer, study, and meals (since prayers are recited at that time).

Dress at synagogue on holy days has become increasingly casual. This is a national trend not only in synagogues but in churches as well. I welcome the change because over the years, many women (and some men) have complained about the burden of having to dress up on a Shabbat, and how if they didn’t have to, they would be more likely to attend services. I know that some might question the sincerity of that complaint, but any barrier to attendance that can be reasonably lifted is worth the risk. Still, that should not be a license to dress thoughtlessly or carelessly. Given the trend toward greater informality in synagogue-wear, what values should our dress convey?

The rabbis speak often of tzeni’ut or modesty in how we behave and how we dress. Tzeni’ut is the value observed by people conscious of living within a divine matrix, in which every point in space is in some way a God point, and every point of our body is, in kind, a connection with God. Modest dress would be simple and unflashy. Tzeni’ut fashion would be dress that covers the body more than it reveals, but not necessarily hiding the body as shameful. There is nothing shameful about our bodies, but within Jewish spiritual consciousness, the holy is always covered. Like a Torah in the ark, or the hallah before the hamotzi blessing, our bodies are not for public display.

Back to my own internet shopping spree, here are a few descriptions of Bat Mitzvah dresses that I came across which are “suitable,” for the big day:

The sultry strapless bodis has a chic sweetheart neckline and is cinched at the waist (Terani)

…this beautiful ensemble drapes to the decadent mid-thigh hem (Rachel Allan)

The seam-sculpted bodice boasts halter styling that shows off your shoulders (Ellie Wilde)

Sweet and sassy, this darling cocktail dress… (Mac Duggal)

The models displaying the various dresses looked far less prepared for praying than they were for clubbing, and none of them looked like thirteen-year-olds.

As I was “shopping,” I was trying to reconcile what was being passed off as legitimate feminine fashion with decades of feminists railing against the objectification of women. What exactly were these revealing, flashy, sexy, “synagogue-friendly” fashions conveying? Was it—

It’s my body and I have the right to show it off, however I want to show it?

I am on the cusp of sexual maturity and I can now declare the lure of my biology?

I remain, as I have been for centuries, a sexualized object, and I willingly embrace that status, no matter how demoralizing it may be?

In all honesty, my shopping spree didn’t last that long, and I did come across sites that offered more modest fare. That’s the good news. Even better is the fact that in our congregation, the people who tend to the modest and unflashy predominate. But there are those Shabbatot when the violations of all good taste are on display, particularly at B’nei Mitzvah ceremonies.

It is said that at the age of 13, our children become adults. And I say—What were the rabbis thinking! The truth is we adults transfer very few responsibilities to B’nei Mitzvah precisely because we know they are not ready. We are not going to give them the right to vote, a license to drive a car, or permission to drink liquor. As parents and grandparents, I hope that we don’t let the sexy and sassy fashion designers or marketers turn them into sexual objects at a time when they are still working through healthy approaches to body image and their own sexuality. Exactly when would be the right time for that anyway? Mommies and Daddies have a very powerful word to keep their children, particularly their daughters, from provocative dress. The word is “No.” It’s not a dirty word and if used, children will not hate parents even as they throw a tantrum for their parents having had the hutzpah to exercise a little parental authority. The tantrum is all about their fear of being unable to withstand the peer pressure to dress as provocatively as their friends. But actually, they do have the inner strength to withstand that pressure. And parents are in a perfect position to help their children discover that strength. Now that’s a fabulous message to pass onto a young person standing on the threshold of maturity!

I’m no fashion maven and as Sears moves closer to bankruptcy, I’m beginning to angst over where to shop in the future. And now I know the Internet will be no substitute. But I do worry about a world in which wardrobe chic is developed by people whose values are antithetical to those of the Torah, and I suspect, feminism as well. It’s time to give a little more thought to how our families dress for synagogue. We owe it to our daughters and sons: when we walk into the synagogue, we should walk in a Jewish way, and not on the runway.

A REFLECTION ON THE FOUR SONS

In the following reflection, the bold print represents the traditional words of the Haggadah,

whereas the plain print represents some responses by Rabbi Rank

The Torah refers to four sons:

Not really.  No where do “four sons” appear in the Torah, but the rabbis of old use the paradigm of four to teach us ways of responding to the different kinds of people who may be seated at our seder table.  That’s not a bad idea—one response does not fit all, and we should know how to respond to different people given their particular temperament.  So let’s begin by acknowledging the multiple differences among the Jewish people and the fact that about 50% of them are daughters (i.e., not sons). 

One wise, one wicked, one simple and one who does not know how to ask a question.

If only it were that easy to categorize people.  Let’s make no assumptions about who anyone is.  There’s a little bit of wisdom, wickedness, simplicity and cluelessness in us all.

What does the wise son say?

The translation ought to read, “What does the wise one ask?”

"What are the testimonials, statutes and laws Hashem our God commanded you?"

That’s not what the wise ones ask anymore.  Today the wise ones ask—If there is no evidence of the Israelites being in Egypt beyond the testimony of the Torah itself, why is this story worthy of so central a position in the consciousness of the Jewish people?

You should tell him about the laws of Pesah, that one may eat no dessert after eating the Pesah offering.

Actually, no—that answer is not going to work at all.  The answer to the wise one’s question is this.  It’s a challenging question because on the surface, it alleges Judaism to be based on a lie—which would not be a great thing.  Two responses:  1) the absence of evidence does not mean that the history of the exodus never took place, only that it cannot be verified; 2) but let’s assume the exodus did not take place.  If so, another question would be in order.  What does it say about the character of the Jewish people to have fabricated as its foundational myth a story about redemption and faith?  This is not a story about victory in war or the amassing of wealth, superior intelligence, or some other triumphalist myth.  Rather it is a story of an impoverished and oppressed people with little hope in the future, leaving the certainty of a miserable existence for an uncertain future based solely on their faith in God.  Gutsy—no?  That says a lot about our ancestors and the risks they were willing to take in life to improve their lot.

What does the wicked son say?

Before the question is asked, already this individual is judged.  Let everyone ask the questions they need to ask on a night when questioning itself is evidence of freedom.

"What does this drudgery mean to you?"

Wow—what a loaded translation.  The literal translation of the question is “What does this service mean to you?” and there’s nothing wrong with that question.  Perhaps it is framed as a wicked question only because it is so difficult to answer.  The Haggadah states that “In every generation, it is incumbent upon us to see ourselves as having left Egypt.”  So when this question is asked, it penetrates, because it demands that we actually talk about exodus and freedom from the heart, not the head.  How often we find ourselves in Mitzrayim—a place of plague, darkness, and death.  Will we remain trapped or find a way out? Tonight is the night we need never feel trapped by the Mitzrayims of personal circumstance.  Our faith has shown us a way to exit the place of darkness, but it will be a move not without risks or dangers. 

To you and not to him.

But this is the question—What does this service mean to YOU?  If he knew what it meant to HIM, he may not be so curious as to know what it meant to YOU.  The possibility exists that he knows full well what this service means to HIM, and now he wishes to know in what way his meaning compares or contrasts with yours. 

Since he excludes himself from the community, he has denied a basic principle of Judaism.

Anyone seated at your seder table has not excluded themselves from the community.  Sitting at the seder table is an affirmation of being part of the community and all who are hungry (for knowledge maybe?) are welcome to come and eat (i.e., ponder the mystery and mythology of Jewish peoplehood).

You should blunt his teeth…

No, no—not after thousands of dollars of orthodonture!!  But in all seriousness, anyone whose intent in answering a question begins with an attempt to put down the questioner is a person who has no idea how to answer a question.

…by saying to him: "It is for the sake of this that Hashem did for me when I left Egypt.

This is almost a real answer.  We do the matzah and the marror and the reclining and the karpas as a way of solidifying our lives with fellow Jews across nations and across continents, across generations both past and future, to be part of a Jewish fabric that professes a Power greater than us and a will to forever evolve toward deeper and deeper levels of freedom.

For me and not for him. If he was there he would not have been redeemed."

Actually, according to a Midrash, only a fifth, 20% of all the Jews in Egypt actually left.  The move to freedom with all the uncertainty such a move entails is not a popular choice.  Choosing the sacred is not and never has been a popular choice.

What does the simple son say?

Whether a question is simple of complicated, all questions deserve our attention.

"What's this?"

I wish we knew what the “this” referred to.  Maybe the answer is “What’s what?  What are you referring to specifically?”  This is a very general question and in order to answer it, we may need to inquire as to the specifics of the query.

You should say to him "With a strong hand Hashem took me out of Egypt, from the house of servitude."

If you can tell a tale of personal redemption, you have become an example for others to emulate.  When Henry would tell the story of his survival in Auschwitz, and how he emerged from the Hell of a Death Camp to become a successful architect, a loving husband and father, a connected Jew, his tale was worth more than 100 readings of the Haggadah.  But his tale also pointed to the deeper truth of the Haggadah, that redemption is real.  Redemption is possible.

And the one who does not know how to ask, you start for him, as the Torah says: "And you should tell your son on that day, saying 'It is for the sake of this that Hashem did for me when I left Egypt.'"

To the ones who do not know how to ask, we should remind them that to ask is a sacred action.  And never be afraid to ask for only through inquiry, curiosity and questioning do we learn, and only through learning and knowledge and wisdom, do we attain freedom.