The one day my son did not wear his beloved black kippa to kindergarten was the one day I needed to take a portrait shot for Fifty-Two Frames.
Since living in Israel, never has it been more trendy to debate religious practice, engage or disengage from extremism, ritually cross-dress, or hate people you don’t actually know in real life.
Personally, I think it would be healthiest for us all to stand back and examine the big picture more often. And then turn to the person on our left or right and offer a compliment. And a listening ear.
What does the portrait mean? Is it cynical, is it thoughtful, is it offensive?
Portrait of a misguided Jewish nation.
(Hope I don’t get in Rav Ovadia Yosef’s way any time soon.)
Week 24: Portrait
Don’t judge a man until you’ve thought a mile under his head gear.
Upsherin. Chalaka. Laziness.
Whatever you call the tradition of letting a Jewish boy’s hair grow till he’s three years old, well, we did it. I’m not sure why, to be honest, but here we are one month shy of Koala’s third birthday. Because it falls out at a time when (traditionally) we don’t cut hair, we’re pushing the big snip forward before Pesach starts. Probably shoulda just waited till Lag B’Omer and done it right, but I can’t take the “When are you cutting it?” questions anymore.
We’re also not really doing it ‘right’ considering it’s meant to be a ceremony to give a boy payot and send him off to Cheder to start learning Torah. Ok, the truth is, he’s definitely learning Torah (ask him what the ten plagues are). And technically, he’ll have payot when my hairdresser finishes with him tomorrow, after his lil local party.
The Aleph-Bet cookies are all baked, the honey is packed up, bring on the scissors!