Biking into Har Nof this morning, I vacillated between feeling like an Orthodox girl and a Reform one. I felt that parts of me deeply connected with the world of halacha and keeping the mitzvoth, while at the same time I had a part of me actively fighting against that stringent framework. Almost reaching my destination, I was pulled out of my thoughts to notice that everyone around me wore the customary outfit of the Yeshiva world - black pants, white dress shirt, and a black hat. I immediately felt out of place, yet knew I had a meeting with someone even further into the neighborhood, so I continued on. Reaching my destination, I was greeted at the door by my host, dressed in a bright green shirt and a green sheitel (cloth head covering). A sigh of relief escaped my lips.
Each day I walk or bike through the streets of Jerusalem, the clothing that people chose to wear stands out to me. Maybe because I am studying at a midrasha where I am asked to wear a skirt and at least short-sleeved shirt daily, or maybe because it is more apparent in Jerusalem, I constantly find myself looking at clothing. Just as there are different styles in the secular world, so too are there many ways of dressing in the Orthodox world. Coming from outside of that world, many people judge, saying that people are being silly, that they are making themselves hotter for no reason, that they are trying to stand out from others. However, being in that world, even for a little while, has demonstrated that within that greater umbrella term of Orthodox, there are many styles and ways of dressing, depending on where in the world/Israel you are from, which Rabbi you listen to, and your personal preference.
This week's Torah portion, parshat baMidbar, starts off the book of BaMidbar, literally translated as In the desert, but referred to in English as Numbers, because of the accounting of all the tribes at the start of this book. In Chapter 1:2-4, God gives the instructions for how to count each tribe: by the families, their father's houses, by the number of names, by the males over the age of 20 (the age at which men could apparently go to war). Then the Torah goes through each of the 12 tribes (the sons of Jacob, plus the sons of Joseph as his representatives) and counts how many men, then appoints a tribal leader.
As I biked through Jerusalem to my meeting in Har Nof, I realized that I was characterizing people I was seeing, just as they were likely judging me. In a skirt, I look like a Modern Orthodox girl, without the skirt and still on the bike, I might as well be secular. The truth is that no one has any way of knowing. Yet in this week's parsha, we must attach ourselves to our tribes and actively maintain our connection to it. In today's day and age, although we are mostly from the same few tribes, we cannot seem to come together to a solid conclusion. Were we to separate people out by belief systems, it wouldn't work. The Millennial generation does not want to be defined by labels and so offers friction every time a label is given. Even more, there are people like me who can feel comfortable in multiple worlds and simply hasn't finished exploring.
Therefore, the tribal classification would not be an effective way of separating people. Would we say: Reform, Conservative, Reconstructionist, Modern Orthodox, Sephardic, Lubavitch, Chabad…the list can go on. Inside each list is a subcategory of people who would not even fit that initial list. I suggest that we not try to go back to the way the Torah has of classifying people. Rather, we recognize that our world can be filled with people from a variety of backgrounds, all of which are acceptable. Even more, the cross-tribal/categorical changes we encounter throughout our lives are there for growth and knowledge, not to isolate. Rather than isolating, we must learn to appreciate the other ways of living we come into contact with, and appreciate the myriad of colors that we pass on the street.
Shabbat Shalom!
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