Yiddishe Mamas (11 page)

“When I think of the Jewish mother, I see her as doting, loud, loving, demanding of her children to be the best they can be. Overall, I see this as a positive.
I perceive
the WASP mother as interested in blue-blood, society, doing little work outside the home, except for charity. She’s very controlled and a little bit cold. I don’t like perpetuating stereotypes but there is humor and truth in it. My own mother’s intentions and efforts are always in the right place, though irritating from time to time
because she won’t let things go. I should hit the tape recorder when she calls because she repeats how I’m not married! I can tell my mother, ‘I’m happy, I’m divorced. All is well’—and it’s like talking to a brick wall. The reality is, it doesn’t offend me. I don’t take it seriously.”

“There was this Jewish lady who lived next door. She made the best matzo ball soup in the world. I remember the wonderful food, parties … laughter. … I just wanted to curl up on her couch. The Jewish, Italian, and Black mothers’ homes represented hearth, food, and comfort. My mother was very loving, as are many Christian mothers, of course, but reserved. I’ve known so many uptight Christians.”

“What comes to mind when I hear ‘Jewish mother’? Me! I have been called a Jewish mother. It means a very doting, strong, opinionated, no-nonsense mom. I consider the term a positive. The Jewish mother is verbal, expressive, assertive, and courageous. If they are in a situation where they feel they’re right, they won’t hesitate to be creative and resourceful to get their point across, which is often in support of a family member, usually a child. The WASP mother is much more liberal and often gives her children
more independence too soon. It’s better for children to be nurtured longer. One of the higher suicide rates is in Scandinavia. One of the theories is it’s due to early independence. In contrast, the Filipino, if they can keep their sons way past their forties they’re happy, which is similar to the Jewish mother.”

Overall, these non-Jewish women were generally positive regarding the Jewish mother and saw differences in mothering styles. The major distinction made was between the ethnic and the WASP mother. Despite concerns about overprotectiveness, many, especially ethnic mothers, not only identified, but defended traits that many Jewish children complain about.

T
rue, Jewish mothers share traits with mothers of other ethnic groups. Yet, we have a distinctive history, culture, and religion that derives from a unique place: Judaism. And it’s our Jewishness that has informed our motives and intentions. Judaism itself, along with custom and tradition, lay out the role of Jewish mother along with the way she should be treated.

As this is not a course on Judaism, I’ll attempt to provide the most basic explanations—and how these apply to the Jewish mother.

A basic precept is “Jewishness” comes from the mother. In Jewish law, if she is Jewish, the child is Jewish. This fact alone gives the female the ultimate role in “mothering” the future of Judaism and Jewish identity.

In the Jewish home, the mother is center stage with a holy mission—to keep the home as a dwelling for the presence of God, which can only and uniquely be achieved by following the directives of the Torah. The Torah is the “Constitution” of Judaism, given to the Jews by God at Mount Sinai about 3,300 years ago. In its simplest meaning, the Torah consists of the five books of Moses, but can also refer to the entire Jewish Bible. Along with Torah is the Talmud, which explains the meaning of the scriptures, how to interpret them, and how to apply the laws.
Acceptance of Talmudic authority is an essential difference between Jews and everyone else.

The responsibility for doing so in the home is largely the Jewish mother’s role. For example, she must ensure that kosher laws are observed. It is the mother who is given the privilege of welcoming the holy Sabbath by ritual candle lighting, along with separating challah (ritual bread) from the dough. (She also must follow sacrificial and purity laws.)

Though she may have a separate career, the Jewish mother is charged with creating the home atmosphere that is the cornerstone of Jewish life—bringing well-being, true happiness, and peace to the family. This will go on through each generation, through teaching children to make the Torah and Judaism their daily guide.

“Within Judaism, it is the woman’s role to ensure that the tradition is carried through, which is highly specific in the Jewish tradition. Religiously, the Jewish mother is expected to instill the home with the rituals,” says Rabbi Yocheved Mintz. “She must be knowledgeable about the laws of
kashrut
and purity, aware of the Jewish calendar, keep peace in the home (Shalom Bayit), and, in addition, in many cases, earn a sufficient living so the husband could pursue his studies.”

“Ingrained in the Covenant, what we could not finish our children can continue on,” says Blu Greenberg. “Barely below
the surface, this is critical due to our historical vulnerability. We carry through our history, how to protect ourselves to make it to the next generation.”

Specific and heavy involvement in all aspects of the home, the family, and especially the children—far from being a “neurotic” or nuisance trait—was and remains a religious commandment.

Therefore, Jewish women and mothers, despite early prohibitions against studying fully, were given adored status. For example:

• Rahamanut
  is the loftiest word in Hebrew. Literally “mother love,” it means mercy and compassion.
  

• According to the Zohar (Book of Splendor, Kabbalistic movement) man is not man until united with woman.
  

• The Talmud instructs men to love their wives as themselves and honor them more.
  

• The absence of wife beating in times and places where the practice was customary—even admired.
  

• Legal protections in Jewish law, regarding improper sexual behavior, desertion, divorce, widowhood, property, financial independence, and control.
  

Long before New York and Beverly Hills attorneys were drawing up prenuptial agreements for the rich and famous, there was the
Ketubah,
the Jewish marriage contract, which came about in the second century BCE. Today, the Ketuba is still signed by two witnesses before the Jewish wedding ceremony and spells out what all husbands are obligated to give their wives, including food, clothing, and conjugal rights. It also includes his financial obligation in case of divorce or death. This contract is so binding that if it is lost the couple is technically forbidden to live together until a new one is written.

Style as well can be traced to the Talmud. Even actual rules of behavior can be extracted from the Torah’s general directives, since the Talmud is filled with everything from stories, anecdotes, history, humor, and yes—debate—endless, detailed debate and argumentation over the smallest issue.

For the Jewish family, and certainly the Jewish mother, family arguments are seen as not merely “normal,” but constructive. Not only does questioning and disputation hone the mind, it releases emotions and also teaches that life is not a peaceful pursuit. And by the way, it kicks up excitement.

The Jewish mother ethno-type is no retiring flower. Whether she’s been called verbal, opinionated, questioning, a fighter or yes, pushy, there’s a direct correlation between Talmudic examination and argumentation and the domestic verbalization, analysis, and hair-splitting, which constitutes normal family interaction. The arguing and questioning about all details of life served as a survival mechanism—a way to actually protect the family from the far more destructive effects of “out there.” So, is it any wonder we have moms today who
are
“out there.” Storytelling, anecdotes, gossip, and humor are also part of our legacy.

There are 613
mitzvahs,
or commandments, in the Torah that a Jew must obey, covering everything—from how a chicken was to be slaughtered to which shoes should be worn each day. According to Michael Wex in
Born to Kvetch,
there are 248 “thou shalts” and 365 “thou shalt nots.” These do’s and don’t’s are yet another critical difference between Jews and others. If we are the chosen people, we’ve been chosen
not
to do a whole lot of things that are acceptable for everyone else, such as chowing down on a grilled ham and cheese sandwich or having a malted with our burger.

Our life and language (Yiddish or
mama-loshen)
is rife with rules, discipline—and kvetches (complaints).

In the nineteenth century, half of all Jews lived in small towns known as shtetls. These shtetls, home to Eastern European Jews,
were found in White Russia, the Ukraine, Slovakia, Bessarabia, Galicia, Lithuania, Poland, and in northeast Hungary.

These shtetls, portrayed as difficult and dangerous but also sentimentally in
Fiddler on the Roof,
were more often woeful. These desolate, squalid, isolated settlements for “outcasts” were filled with mud, poverty, and lack of food. Life was harsh and the people who lived there were constantly imperiled.

The Jewish mother was the valiant underpinning of the shtetl community. She not only sacrificed for her children, but, as scholarship was prized above all as the pathway to God, she frequently earned the living—while providing spiritual and psychological support—so the males in the family could pursue their studies. These communities were much like unofficial countries, connected by deeply religious and spiritual ties, language, and shared martyrdom. Their spirit would soar during the Sabbath—and this critical demarcation between themselves and the outside world was the Jewish mother’s duty and privilege to make.

Yet, despite grueling hardship, the shtetl mother gave her children a daunting, enriching legacy. A determined survivalist, she and her daughters possessed uncommon spiritual energy, perseverance, protectiveness, courage—and the ability to sacrifice for children, family, and community. And the results
have been remarkable. Children of the shtetls have contributed mightily, not only to their own culture, but also to world culture: in literature, science, activism, medicine, entertainment, and law, among other fields. Surely, the inordinate success of many Jewish children—no matter how much they kvetch or joke—is due in large measure to these remarkable women, their shtetl mothers and grandmothers.

When we add the remarkable findings of the Technion-Israel Institute of Technology in 2006, that about 40 percent of all Ashkenazi Jews today derive from four Jewish mothers, there may be yet another (small) factor that differentiates us. Sisterhood … literally.

We comprise one quarter of 1 percent of the world population, and about one half that if we only count females. Less, if we only count Jewish mothers. Yet what a cultural racket we’ve made virtually everywhere we’ve gone, which is … anywhere we were tolerated, until the establishment of the State of Israel.

Through a melding of our strict commandments, traditions, history, and perhaps DNA, along with tribalism and relatively little intermarriage, we have become a unique ethno-type. As the role of women in general became more assertive religiously, politically, and socially, we were set free to use our gifts not only to mother, but also to become scientists, artists, activists, and religious leaders with the same determination, wisdom, and courage.

F
or those who say there’s no such thing as “Jewish humor,” the legendary
Seinfeld
first took on the matter in episode 152 in 1997, when Jerry suspects his dentist, Tim Whatley, converted to Judaism for—the Jokes.

I recently asked two Jewish comedians about Jewish humor. “I don’t know what that is,” they protested. One cited the definitely
not Jewish
Red Skelton, as being “no different” from himself. As talented as Skelton was, along with the magnificent Bob Hope, few would mistake them for a Jerry Lewis, Alan King, or Sid Caesar in style, cadence, material, or presentation.

Now, whether this comedian was trying to be politically correct, or, more likely, has a morbid fear that the taint of “Jewishness” might conjure images of Simon Says and borscht, there are many who would insist there is “no such thing” as “Jewish humor,” or leap into deep offense, seeing all Jewish jokes as yet another form of stereotyping.