The Jewish internet was abuzz this week with commentary about the new Netflix reality series My Unorthodox Life β interestingly filmed before the pandemic yet seemingly created after they decided on a title to proactively quench the thirst left by the controversial Unorthodox, released last year. The frum response to the series was nothing short of expected, with some praising the allegedly nuanced portrayal of OTD nightmare mothers-in-law and others decrying the depiction of the Orthodox world as uniformly βfundamentalist,β β a word that pops up in the show so often you could make a black-out drinking game.
And then something amazing happened: The most boring people I know began to share their real stories about Orthodoxy with the hashtag #MyOrthodoxLife, showcasing the fire of a Torah observant life to⦠each other, because nobody else will see this.
I wanted to share a snapshot of MY Orthodox life with you, my friends, so you can see what it actually means to be an Orthodox Jew in 2021, and cut through all the noise.
i. Friday Morning
I begin my day with gratitude to HaShem by waking up and checking my phone. I have a persnickety notification in my Instagram DMs from somebody I reached out to interview for an article and then never followed up with because lately, Iβve been having trouble focussing on ordinary tasks. My boyfriend is in the washroom taking a marathon shower and I will not enter the room to pee, even though I absolutely must. This is called βkeeping the mystery alive,β and Iβve heard itβs the secret to many a successful marriage. I think Rebbetzin Jungreis invented it. Marriage is on my mind because some friends of ours β another religious-ish gay couple (Iβm not here to answer questions) just got engaged. For some reason, I thought they were already engaged.Β Iβm happy for them but simultaneously feel competitive. I send a screenshot to my boyfriend and wonder if heβll get the hint.
Can you daven if you have to pee? I feel like no, so I donβt. Also, I slept in! I frantically catch up on Slack messages and emails and revisit my to-do list for the day: I will not stick to the list. #OrthodoxJewsCanHaveJobsInTechStartups. Instead, I will open a tab for SSENSE and browse the sales. #OrthodoxJewsLoveLuxurySales I will investigate Uniqloβs trousers. I will read the entire Wikipedia page for the assassination of the Haitian president.Β
ii. Friday Afternoon
Yesterday I cooked an entire meal for shabbos so I wouldnβt be rushing this afternoon like I usually do. My boyfriend texts me to tell me he has invited guests, which means we wonβt have enough food. Iβm feeling particularly sensitive and I cry. Then he says that his brother invited us and our guests to their meal, and I cry because Iβm worried about wasting the food I spent yesterday preparing. I plan to force-feed him chicken breasts tomorrow afternoon.Β
Itβs the nine days and Iβm thinking of Tisha BβAv. I struggle with this holiday because while I can appreciate the loss of the Temple, the destruction of Jerusalem and the millennia of suffering that followed, the idea of a third Temple is as abstract to me as having grey hair.Β
An image is circulating the socials, as it usually does this time of year, of an artistsβ rendering of the Temple being rebuilt, surrounded by cranes, scaffolding, and perhaps the most standout visual of a modern Jerusalem, condo towers. I feel uneasy thinking that even in the Olam HaBa we arenβt safe from condos. But real estate in Jerusalem is so expensive as it is, and building upwards instead of outwards is an obvious answer to population density. I anticipate more towers will be built around Jerusalem. Will I be able to afford one? Will I ever have to touch a goat? A strange new world, indeed.
The song βPompeiiβ by Bastille comes to mind. The lyrics, taken literally, refer to the destruction of Pompeii and act as a metaphor for a romantic relationship that has been buried in a pyroclastic flow ;).
The song has a finality to it that makes it suitable as a cathartic ending credit piece in a movie. Mysteriously, the 2014 film Pompeii, starring my favourite Australian actress Emily Browning, doesnβt use the song β an egregious missed opportunity. The upbeat millennial whoops and harmonies betray the elegiac, mournful lyrics:Β
And the walls kept tumbling down
In the city that we love
Grey clouds roll over the hills
Bringing darkness from above
But if you close your eyes
Does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?
And if you close your eyes
Does it almost feel like you've been here before?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?
Thatβs an elegy, right? It reminds me of Jerusalem. A song about a Roman city reminds me of Jerusalem. The irony isnβt lost to me.Β
What does it say about the timelessness of suffering, fear, exile? Eicha was composed centuries before Pompeii, centuries before the Seige of Jerusalem that propelled us into exile β but it conveys grief, fear and regret in language similar to Pompeii.Β
Eicha is an exercise in contemplative prayer and suffering. It speaks of the regret of having trudged too far into the shameful unknown, of the frustration at the inability to turn back by our own doing. The plea, βrenew our days of oldβ frequently appears in our prayers today, but how can we truly return to our previous state when weβve gone out so far?
Much to think about. If you listened to the song during the nine days, donβt tell me or anyone about it. If itβs actually fine to listen to music during the nine days, donβt tell me either.Β
iii. Friday evening
I have made a berry galette using a store-bought pie crust and a recipe that I found online. It consists of blackberries, blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries. I made two β one of us, one for lunch tomorrow where we will be guests. Emergency: It tastes disgusting. Itβs sour. Itβs so sour. I thought I sweetened it enough with honey and castor sugar, but the lemon zest deceived my palate. I begin my own lamentation because this is the second time Iβve brought dessert to these people and it was a disgusting fruity experiment. I can cook literally anything else, but Iβm not a dessert person, so I always try and cop out by making a fruit-something because itβs βeasy.β Not so.Β Iβll have to cut my losses and hope they think Iβm cute with a Tisha Bβeard.
Back to the topic at hand, here is what Shabbos means to me as an Orthodox Jew today: My screen time is horrible and my attention span is a disaster. I donβt know if I have ADHD or if my lifetime of internet use gave me brain damage. I am, however, thankful that once a week I can read a fucking book!! I love drinking my shabbos cold brew and reading a book! I love when everyone gets dressed up for shul! Also, because Iβm young, social and childless, shabbos often means day drinking. There is an entire contingent of people who know see me when Iβm drunk on shabbos, dressed in my finest linens and shrieking in a fake Australian accent.Β
Most importantly, keeping shabbos keeps me tethered to something. My transition to and from LA would be difficult if I wasnβt hellbent on finding a community of people who are all looking for the same thing. Because there are so many of us, I donβt even have to try. BH, BH, BH. Friends wherever I go, by virtue of our need to keep each other company. After my year of viral house arrest, Iβve never felt more like myself.