So Different Yet Similar
Music played loudly while the men danced. On the women’s side of the mechitzah, we tried to speak over the sounds. I leaned over the table to hear what my co-worker’s wife was saying. “Well, because we are both Belz, it just made sense,” Zeldy said with a smile, then continued picking at the chicken on her plate.
“The Belzer Rebbe even had a hand in our shidduch; he told both of our parents that it was a good idea.”
“By the time a young couple meets,” another woman, Toby, piped in, “the families know so much about each other. All that remains is for the couple to meet. They sometimes even get engaged that night. I remember when my brother was about to meet a girl for the first time, I caught my mother buying candy for a party, and I said, ‘Ma! You’ve already decided they’re getting engaged?’ But they actually did. They got engaged that night!” Toby said with a laugh.
Wow, I thought to myself. We come from such different worlds.
When I arrived home that night after the bar mitzvah of my boss’s son, I thought to myself how interesting it had been to interact with other Jews – but how strange it was not knowing much at all about their lifestyle.
Growing up as a second-generation Lubavitcher in Houston, the only chassidim to whom I had been exposed were the Chabad rabbis in my community. (And I never met the Lubavitcher Rebbe, who lived in New York from 1941 until his passing in 1994.)
My hometown community is an eclectic mix of observant Jews from various backgrounds, and as a child I was exposed to secular ideas and curriculums. Then, while attending a Lubavitch seminary in Israel, I observed other chassidim from afar.
I soon moved to Crown Heights to live near friends while attending university, and picked up the concentrated Lubavitch culture fairly quickly.
It was only four years later, when working alongside Belz, Satmar, and Bobov chassidim for a magazine based in Boro Park, that I developed an intense curiosity about the customs and lifestyle of these chassidim that seemed so different from my own.
Everything from their pronunciation of the holidays to the different ways they each curled their peyos to the mayonnaise-packed dishes for sale every few shops made me dizzy.
The chassidim around me at work periodically gave me a glimpse into their culture, but all I could see was how vastly theirs differed from mine. Still, I continued to observe them from a distance, figuring they valued their privacy.
Earlier that week I had attended a Satmar wedding. Everything seemed so new and exciting to me, but there was something that bothered me. These are my fellow Jews, I thought. Why do their ways seem so foreign to me?
Separate seating I was used to. The chuppah was traditionally Jewish. The fathers swayed back and forth in deep concentration as the bride approached the groom, stepping to the side as she encircled him seven times. The women looked radiant, angelic.
But some of the customs were, well, different. The mothers walked the bride down to the chuppah with an extra covering on their heads. The bride came down to the wedding reception with a wig on, her hair nowhere to be seen.
I had seen some of the customs before, of course. But there was a certain innocence, a purity I sensed, that made me yearn to know these people better. I looked at the girls around me and I ached inside; I didn’t quite know my own sisters, whom I loved nonetheless.
I decided to spend a Shabbos in Boro Park.
After lighting candles on Friday night, I left the house where I was staying to walk quickly through the raindrops to my co-worker’s house. Every person I passed rushed by me, looking in the other direction.
Soon I realized they were all men, so I should not expect a greeting nor should I offer one – of any kind. Men and women keep to their own gender in this neighborhood, I reminded myself. Greetings cannot be called out like in my hometown. Finally I spotted a woman and called out, “Good Shabbos,” to which she smiled and wished me the same.
A determined knock on the Reichenberg residence yielded soft pattering sounds coming down the steps from within. The door swung open and there was my co-worker’s wife, Zeldy, with a warm smile and big hug for me.
“So glad you made it!” she exclaimed, moving her 16-month-old from one hip to the other. “Yechezkel’s still at shul, but come sit.”
I followed her up the stairs and into a small two-bedroom apartment. The house was warm and cozy, candles flickering on the table and challah warming atop the stove.
Zeldy brought their wedding album to me on the couch and sat beside me as I thumbed through the pages, pausing on each page to take in every detail. I had a question about everything.
“So why is he wearing white socks and he’s wearing black socks?” I asked pointing first to her father and then to her father-in-law. She didn’t seem to mind.
“Why does he wind his peyos around his ears, but Yechezkel tucks his in tight curls behind them?” “You wore a sheitel after your chuppah?” “So you guys hold hands after the chuppah?”
I had so many questions. And I soon learned: It’s a Vizhnitz custom to wind the peyos around the ears and it’s a rebbishe custom of Belz and Satmar to wear the white socks. For years I had thought that many chassidim tuck their pants into their socks, when in actuality they wear shorter pants tied with a ribbon right below the knee.
Fuzzy hats versus furry hats; tall, short, round, flat. It was all very eye opening to me. How different we are, I mused.
We heard faint singing and in walked my co-worker Yechezkel, Zeldy’s husband. Upon his head sat a wide fur hat, a shtreimel, and he shed one bekeshe in exchange for another shiny, black patterned one with a wide belt.
I couldn’t stop staring, and I knew it was impolite, but he looked so calm and serene, the spirit of Shabbos just washing right over him, taking away all the worries that must come along with a growing family and a hectic work schedule.
Yechezkel made Kiddush. I lifted my gaze to watch him – his eyes were squeezed tightly shut – to listen – the melody filling the small, glowing dining room – and to take it all in. No translations, no analysis. Just be present and experience, I told myself. And it was beautiful.
Soon we were sitting and chatting like old friends. The challah was warm and delicious, the dips unique in flavor, the fish sweet and covered in fish goo. That’s when things started to really strike me as different. Zeldy told me she makes the same dishes every single Shabbos, such as chicken soup with sliced radishes on the side. Radishes!
When I asked her about the custom she said, “It must be a Hungarian thing. It’s been in our families forever.” She added, “Wait till tomorrow – you’ll be eating eggs between the fish and meat courses.” I wanted to know where the egg custom originated and her answer was the same: “It’s just tradition…we’ve been doing that for generations.”
The night wore on without our notice; so busy were we in vetting dissimilarity and likeness between our communities.
“What’s the dating process like in your community?” I was asked.
I explained as best as I could that it’s different for everyone. Most Lubavitch singles from out of town move to Crown Heights in order to live near friends and be more available to date other Lubavitchers.
“Who sets you up?”
Way to put a girl on the spot! But I didn’t mind. I tried my best to paint an accurate picture of the shadchan/single relationship. In my situation, I mused, shadchanim hadn’t suggested many boys for me to date as of yet, but some had facilitated shidduchim suggested by friends of mine.
“Sometimes a shidduch is suggested by a host at whose table I’ve eaten on Shabbos; other times a guy who met me at an event asks me out through a friend.”
This seemed to be a novelty to my hosts.
“I don’t think other neighborhoods have as much of a singles scene as Crown Heights,” Yechezkel remarked. I explained that it’s only in recent years that there are events for singles aged 25 and older in Crown Heights; it’s become more accepted over the years. Times have changed.
In other chassidic communities, “singles meals” and “singles events” aren’t the norm. Most singles stick with their family and friends until they are married, and even then they tend to settle nearby.
I imagined what it would be like to live with my family and marry a boy from my neighborhood who grew up just like me – and then live down the block from both of our families. It sounded so simple, so easy, so safe.
How very different are our lifestyles.
Toward the end of our meal, after two and a half hours of “So, in your community do they….” and “Wait, so you don’t have….?” as we dissected each other’s communities and cultures, the couple suggested I catch the end of a rebbe’s tisch a few short blocks away. I didn’t quite know what to expect, but it felt like an adventure and I was there to explore, so off I went.
Sitting in the gallery above, with my nose pressed against the glass overlooking hundreds of Bobover chassidim below, I shivered slightly. I felt out of place. There were only about 15 women on the benches and I had found an empty seat toward the middle where not too many women were seated.
Each woman was covered neck to toe in a refined, black, loose-fitting outfit, a white kerchief tied atop her wig. Feeling a bit out of place, I pulled my shawl tighter and looked around me anxiously.
Finally I caught a woman’s eye; we smiled and wished each other “Good Shabbos.” She had a kind glint in her eye and was looking at me inquisitively, so I decided to make a friend of her.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” I asked, gesturing toward the Rebbe below, in his shiny gold garb, who was shukling back and forth, waving his arms as he spoke passionately to his people.
The woman moved closer to me. She explained that the Rebbe was speaking to them about the New Year. She patiently translated from Yiddish to English some of what he was imparting to his followers. Then, all at once, the Rebbe stopped and a young man placed a very large gold bowl filled with steaming soup broth and spaghetti before him.
After taking a few bites, the Rebbe pushed the bowl forward and a serving bowl-sized portion of liver was put down in its place. As the Rebbe ate a few bites of the meat, a young man apportioned the soup in the oversized gold bowl into about 20 regular-sized bowls, which were passed to more young men standing on bleachers on either side of a huge table in front of the Rebbe.
One by one, each boy stuck his fingers into the bowl and pulled out what looked to be a thin piece of spaghetti and brought it to his lips before passing the bowl to the next boy in line. This process happened over and over as the Rebbe sampled the meat, some kugels, and finally dried fruit and cake for dessert.
In between his bites, the Rebbe led the congregation in song. With sweeping motions, he riled the crowd, their voices soaring, blending. At one point, the Rebbe looked at each of the chassidim in turn, raising his hand and shaking it in their direction. As his eyes met those of each of his followers for a full moment, allowing a pause in which their eyes locked, they responded in kind, each raising his hand and shaking it in the Rebbe’s direction.
This moment of connection, this purity in their worship of G-d through bonding with their leader, made my insides tremble. Who was this man who could arouse such fervent, simple devotion? Who was this man who elicited such an unwavering reverence for Hashem and His mitzvos? And who were these chassidim who so differed from me?
In that moment I remembered something I had learned many years ago: Be not jealous of another, but for his spiritual height.
I looked at those chassidim and wished so fiercely to be one of them.
If only to have that one moment of physical connection with my Rebbe – the Lubavitcher Rebbe, of righteous memory, the eighteenth anniversary of whose passing we marked this past Shabbos – I’d give anything.
Yonit Tanenbaum is a freelance writer and the founder of YQ Media, a public relations and social media marketing firm in Brooklyn. She spends her time promoting small businesses and non-profit organizations, and teaching English to Jewish high school girls.
no way
She in no way is an accurate depiction of lubavitch
CH to CA
I enjoyed hearing about the writers experience. I moved out of Crown Heights over ten years ago. My daughter will soon be in the “shidduch parsha”. Have thing really changed so much in Crown Heights with regard to shidduchim? Are “singles events” the new norm?
cma
Is the conclusion that the Belzer and Satmar Chassidim are of greater “spiritual height” than Lubavitchers?
To me this seems like an article by somebody who is sick and tired of the community they’re in and prefers to be somewhere else.
And I agree with #1, that the author does not have an accurate depiction of Lubavitch. I would attribute that to her being a “second generation” Lubavitcher, who was only exposed to 2 or 3 shluchim who were catering for a very different community…
Great Article
Great article but it’s hard to beleive that she is second generation Lubavitch!
Moshe
very beautiful and engaging writing and I agree with comment no. 1.
She described the Bobov lifestyle much more accurately then the Chabad lifestyle.
fun Russland
“mayonnaise-packed dishes for sale every few shops”
You can see the same thing in any Chabad House restaurant or kosher store in the former Soviet Union!
Also 2nd generation lubavitcher
This young lady accurately describes her and many others experience in lubavitch. Nowhere does she state it’s the only way in chabad, nor does she claim to be a representative of all singles in lubavitch. This is a valid and wonderful description of a thriving segment of crown height.
Beautifully written article. I personally think it behooves lubavitchers to look outward to how other Jews live and to learn from them and engage with them… Achdus and ahavas yisrael at it’s best!
Oakington
The author captures an excellent view of how “out of towners,” who grew up in the system, see Brooklyn. She also touches on a very sad and very real issue for today’s youth: what was it like living with a Rebbe? No matter what you describe or what videos you see, it’s not the same as living it.
And the ahavas yisroel expressed here is touching. I wish more of us could do so, even in comments.
To ch.info
Here you go again absolutely no filter is there anyone who thinks twice before posting an article on this site or it’s just whatever you guys think will get you more clicks?
You can learn from the “other” website who have shaped up (more or less) in recent months
You seem to have this hate for Mishechisten, one would assume this is because of the disrespect and lack of kovod they cause to the rebbe
Yet you do not hesitate to post an article were someone describes Lubavitch as some modern orthodox group which is void of any tochen and we must look to other kreizen to fill this void
Isn’t that heipach of kovod to the rebbe
I would also like to ask this author a few serious questions about what Lubavitch and the rebbe stand, for something tells me her knowledge is limited, which is ok but you don’t have to make a public article if your still learning
NK
A beautiful article. I’m not at all clear about what some comments have against it. She’s telling a personal story, here. What is there to protest against?
Thank you!
Thank you for publishing this introspective and positive article. It is a positive character trait to constantly desire to learn and grow. Curiosity is the sign of a healthy mind and a positive outlook upon life. The opposite of which is kaltkeit (a milchiker) and one who generally knows more/better then others and has stopped learning. Kudos to this girls parents and teachers for imbuing this important characteristic that is vital to personal growth in life.
md2205
We have something much more mystical – the ability to forge a connection to the Rebbe while he is in the Kisei Hakavod, and to get answers from him through Igros. This is something that only neviim could do years ago, although during yetzias Mitzraim, even the maidservants saw what could not be seen. We are on the level of common people, and yet we can have these mystical revelations of the Rebbe’s connection whenever we want. (The Rebbe said that what happened by yetzias Mitzraim will happen again as we move toward Geula.) The Rebbe is as close to us as ever, even closer! and he knows everything that is going on with us. We have the Rebbe, whose every gesture was of G-dliness, whose leadership extended and still extends over all, to the point where he fit the definition of Moshiach as brought in the Rambam’s Hilchos Melachim. Being Lubavitch is meant to be work – we have to do the work that the Rebbe charged us with many years ago, even if it without the “good times” feelings other chassidim have. Chabad was always about doing the work to refine ourselves and our surroundings towards the important end of bringing Moshiach. In this regard, Chabad has been the undisputed leader.
The author brings up a point I have noticed as well – that of the aidelkeit noticeable in some people in other neighborhoods (not that it is absent in Crown Heights). (Rabbi Manis Friedman speaks of aidelkeit often as an attractive, pleasant trait and feeling to create in one’s self and one’s home.) That said, aidelkeit has to be balanced with an ability to move in the world in a way that will not compromise our level, and will also help others reach higher. This is what the Rebbe wanted. That takes gumption and savvy, which should be infused with the aidelkeit of which the author speaks, and then we have a good working combination.
Mrs. Segal
I just learned in a shiur with Rabbi Aryeh Israeli (E NY condos) that Chabad is a system where our Rebbeim set us up to learn how to learn on our own but how we turned ourselves into “Poilishe” Chassidim relying on the Rebbe for everything. I’m not sure how this squares with my “Yechi” affiliation- it’s not wrong but not the ideal of the eltere doros. Anyways, I don’t like to take germs from soupbowls but I respect them for it.
Achdus!
BS’’D
I loved this, its beautiful
I think we should all accept and love each other for being Shomer haMitzvos, despite our different drachim.
Thats how to bring Moshiach, thats real Achdus, to be open to everyone, to learn from everyone
imagine chabad bochurim staying by satmar friends for shabbos and vice versa/
THATS WHAT I DO AND I”M A CHABAD BOCHUR< so follow suit crown heights!!! :)
Narrow
This girl is from another state so of course she didn’t experience the world of Chabad in B’klyn. It is quite different.
All the criticism just reinforces what the sterotypical Lub. is in B’klyn – the world of CLOWN Heights
Chabad Classic, not Lite
Yet you do not hesitate to post an article were someone describes Lubavitch as some modern orthodox group …
——————————————————
Sadly, this is the truth, especially in Crown Heights, Melbourne, Miami and a few other places. There are also shluchim who have bent so far that they are allowing conservative and reform practices, as well as New Age shtussim, in their Chabad Houses.
We used to know how to be modern in the good sense of embracing technology on our terms so we can participate in today’s world, without being “modern” in the negative sense of lowering standards and trying to blend in. Now, we are falling, while still maintaining the worst of the “ultra-orthodox” lifestyle, such as welfare dependency that we all know includes rampant benefits fraud.
The truth hurts sometimes.
Leah
I wonder if the writer made as good an impression on the other chassidim as they made on her. Somehow I’m not convinced.
Lubav Student
To #12
Would you please expound on the story about the maidservants in Mitzrayim? I’m not sure I ever learned about that or know what it means. Thank you.
KP
FYI other chassidim think Chabadniks are stuck up because we don’t know anything about what they’re about or take an interest in their causes. With the exception of dire emergency such as the Kletzky search last year.
The author made an effort that few Lubavitchers have.
be positive
As a Lubavitcher who has a Belzer partner – I would say that there is something to this article – true perhaps she doesn’t quite depict what Lubavitch or Chassidus is, but there is a point that she does have.
Chassidus emphasizes Ahavas Yisroel, yet many of us tend to put ourselves above any other Chassidim, and therefore don’t interact with other Chassidim. True, there is nothing like Chassidus Chabad and we are lucky to have what we do, but this does not mean that we have to be ignorant of anything else.
It was Beautiful to see close to 100 Shtreimlach at the Ohel on 3 Tanuz, and it is also Beautiful to see the Ahavas Yisroel which has become more apparent in the last few years – between the many different Chassidim (including lubavitch and Satmar , etc.)
There are actually many different interesting Mihagim and unique customs that each chassidus has for itself. Yes we have our Minhagim – but that doesn’t mean that we have to be completely ignorant or other Yiddin.
You will find that almost all other Chassidim know a bit about each other, yet you will find that Lubavitcher CHassidim mostly don;t know anything about other chassidim.
You would be surprised at how many more similarities we have than differences – and Chassidus demands Ahavas Yisroel – we should focus on our similarities and befriend each other rather than looking at our differences.
It is interesting how just this past week, my partner asked me if I could get a pair of “Mivtzoim Tefillin”, as he has another job in an office where there are other jews, and the Bochurim who come on friday, are not coming for the summer. He therefore brings his Teffilin not only on Friday, but every day!! to put on teffilin with the non-observant jews who work there. He asked about the extra pair because he didn’t want to take the responsibility in case he would forget to bring his teffilin to work one day!
In summary, there are many good jews out there with good customs, many who are perhaps more “lubavitch” (doing what the Rebbe wanted from us) than others who are called Lubavitch.
There are plently of nice things we can all learn from each other – nice article.