By Malkie Gordon Hirsch Magence
Last week, after writing an article I didn’t really plan on writing (after the deadline for submission) and sending it to my father for questions/comments/long-awaited approval of any sort, I received a one-word response from him that boggled my mind.
It said, “Seudot?” I quickly responded, “If that diction doesn’t suit your demographic, you’re welcome to change it.”
It’s been the subject of many a heated family WhatsApp chat discussion as of late.
The last line of last week’s article discussed a pluralized seuda and I referred to that as “seudot.”
The backstory is that my parents sent me to an elementary school (Shulamith) that taught me to pronounce Ivrit ending in a “t” sound instead of the trendy “s” that some mistake as being more of a yeshivishspeak.
For example, if I would write “Ivris” or “seudos,” I would be embraced by a different brand of frum, but since I end my Hebrew verbiage with a “t,” it means I must be teetering off the edge of keeping Shabbos.
I exaggerate (somewhat) but I am sure some of you readers get the point of where I am going with this.
My question is: When did what we say and how we say it determine our religious worth in any way?
Why can’t different frum Jews who are from various parts of the world say the same thing, slightly differently, but still be considered as being authentically observant Jews?
It is not right or wrong, but to a lot of people practicing our more stringent levels of Judaism, we have suddenly begun to base how people speak or what they wear on our assumption of who they are, and that is a problem.
There is a level of respect that comes with adorning more formal dress for davening but does that mean that the people that do not want to wear a hat and jacket are taught that they will not be allowed to lead a minyanif they don’t wear it?
Where are we drawing the line of making up laws as we go along vs. informing our kids as to what is allowed and what isn’t?
I’m embarrassed to admit this, but not too long ago, I wasn’t aware of the difference between halacha and minhag. Sort of how I just found out the difference between pshat and midrash. I know my parents spent a pretty penny on my private school education, but they probably shouldn’t have.
The lines in my life coming from various establishments that dictated that this is the way we do things or say things led me to believe that that was the gospel.
But I was also comfortable not asking questions about sources or trying to find out more about why we do what we do, so I suppose that I’m just as guilty as anyone else not wanting their questions answered.
For a group that’s got a pretty hefty set of laws to guide their lives according to, we’re a pretty judgy Jew crew.
Our job isn’t to look at other people and tell them that they’re not practicing the right way, it’s for us to establish our own personal relationship with G-d and leave the judgment to Him.
At this point, we can’t help but size someone up from how they dress and what they say to determine who they are, but if you’re reading this and come across someone you don’t know, and they wear shorts and a t-shirt but daven as if they’re standing in front of the kisei hakavod, just know that in general, humans are way more complex than we look.
The observance of certain laws will resonate with certain people, and they’ll struggle with others.
The kid in the shorts and t-shirt loves to connect with Hashem but he doesn’t love black pants.
It’s the way of our world and it’s not meant for us to judge other people unfavorably with.
We might dress differently, speak Hebrew emphasizing letters that the next one doesn’t, or practice our frumkeit differently than the next person, but instead of disapproval, our various ways can be celebrated.
Let’s focus on embracing our colorful group instead of placing them in categories that are labeled “machmir,” “modern orthodox” and “yeshivish.”
At the end of the day, that doesn’t matter. What does matter is treating everyone with respect and acceptance.
Minhagim are a dime a dozen and it’s interesting to see how others observe their halachot and mitzvot, even when it’s pronounced with a “s” at the end or with an “oy” added in for good measure.
Malkie Gordon Hirsch Magence is a native of the Five Towns community, a mom of 5, a writer, and a social media influencer.
