I asked stupidly if i had to bring something, and i apologized straight away.
I was eager to go and share this first Shabbos meal.
I was thinking all week: tz'ni'ut.
I spend too many minutes every morning of thinking what i will wear, looking at this closet that doesn't want to help me.
I only have dresses or skirts. Only dresses with V-neck… :-)
I can't think of wearing tights during summer time, even flesh-colored tights. I dislike this color that reminds me the tights of the French grand-mothers.
The sky heard my request, and decided to drop the temperatures, and to add a sort of breeze.
No rings, no necklaces, only clothes and keys to carry.
I don't actually have dresses with pockets for the keys, so i had to think of wearing jacket. :-(
Finally: black skirt under knees, purple shirt with a purple V-neck on the left shoulder, a black shirt over to cover the so-called naked shoulder. A very light jacket with pockets, black tights and autumn black shoes with heels.
Kingston was empty of cars, only Hasidim who were walking in the opposite way of mine.
Sometimes we looked at each other.
I felt sometimes a gap between them and me, maybe the way they walk fast to go to the shul, or other Shabbos dinners. I walk slowly to feel the breeze.
I turned on the left, and i saw more men that women.
And i became one of them:
"Good Shabbos" said women i bumped into. "Shabbos Shalom" i replied with a smile, bursting out laughing.
I will not be the black sheep at this dinner finally, though…
Before leaving, i watched videos on Chabad.org to learn how to wash my hands, and the blessings.
These videos have been made by Sir Jonathan Sacks. He has a very friendly face, and a soft voice.
My memory was asleep, so let's improvise. Someone will help me for sure.
I arrived at the door, on the second floor, saw a light and knocked twice. Nobody replied.
I sat for a while in front of the house.
I saw a man going out of it, on the first floor, and i didn't dare to ask him if it was the same apartment.
Was he going to the shul or another Shabbos dinner? Plans had changed, and X. couldn't call me after the siren call?
I left but i felt guilty. I didn't want to knock loud at the door.
On my way back, i bumped into the woman, S., that i met at the Gimmel Tammuz last Monday. She was the one who looked at me weirdly when i told her my blood percentage.
She asked me about X., and i told her what happened.
"She is my cousin. Come with me! I am going there too."
X. told her that i will be amongst them.
I told her that i have seen a man getting out of the house…
"You can talk to men. In our community, we can talk to them."
If she knew all the details of my Hasidic stories, she would have a heart attack. :-)
But sha!
Someone who lives above my head knows two things: i don't give up, and i give second chanceS to people.
I had to be at this dinner tonight.
I didn't have a grudge against this young woman in her early 20s, despite her reaction at the gathering.
I was upset not to be at the table tonight, despite my deep shyness. My ambiversion had chosen the option introversion for that evening.
I also was stressed to be at the table with men that i had already met. If one of them has been bad with me, how should i have to handle the situation? I should have to pretend, and smile like an idiot, because i am a guest.
I saw the table for 12 people.
The men were at the shul, and i talked with the host who informed me that her husband has been raised in Canada, from French parents. He will be happy to speak French with me.
Wow, even the man of the family will talk to me in front of his guests.
I have bad habits to meet the Hasidim, late at night, and to be alone with them. This configuration of an official dinner is unusual. I need a sort of rehabilitation of my secular habits, and not to forget that i too am amongst modesty rules. Oh la la! :-)
X. had to pick up her children in her house, across the street. They were sleeping.
I offered my help to carry them. Ouch!
She asked me in French:
"I forgot to ask you if you were Jewish".
I replied in English because the wife didn't speak French.
I started to explain my blood percentage, and the researches that i have to do about my mother lineage. They were fascinated.
They didn't want me to be the Shabbos girl.
The wife looked at X., and said:
"If she is Jewish…" I won't be able to carry the children, and it will be a sin. That was very cute.
The men arrived: 3 men in black and white, and two others in casual clothes.
I talked in French with the husband who told me, with a Canadian accent, that he speaks the French, not the Canadian French. I didn't talk enough to make conclusions.
Time for the Kiddush!
I was on the men side, and the host told me to come to their side. She was smiling. She is a very gentle and quiet person.
She was my holy guide, and told me to come and wash my hands.
Guess what?
I told to the host how to do it, but i also have that confusion between the right and the left. So i nearly started in the wrong way.
Wake-up emma!
She helped me with the blessing. I repeated it after her.
As you know, you are not allowed to talk after that. The women made strange noises, till all the men are back at the table, and the husband can make the Hamotzi.
The challahs has been made by the young woman, S. They were so good.
I tasted a little of everything. That was not a light dinner, and i read that Shabbos dinners could be worse in calories.
X. had made a tagine, a sort of Moroccan cooking pot with chicken, i recognized spices. She cooks very well.
The soundtrack background was the fireworks of Independence Day, and the husband asked each guest to introduce him/herself and to say what 4th of July meant to us.
I felt comfortable enough to avoid a crisis of shyness when it was my turn.
What i said, was that i associated their 4th of July to the French 14th of July, Bastille days in other words: The French Revolution.
And the husband started to hum, louder enough, La Marseillaise.
I thought of what Jonathan Sacks said about the French Revolution led by atheists.
Can you imagine to be sat at a table with very religious persons who are humming a revolutionary song full of blood lyrics? No? That was meshuga! :-)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Marseillaise
I laughed.
Later men were in a sort of political conversation.
This family and the guests have very good manners, even the youngest ones, who asked ladies for some wine, before pouring in their own glass. La classe, messieurs! :-)
I seem a little rigid with my European upbringing, but i am not! :-)
Be a lady one day, and you will appreciate the courtesy of men!
I had a short and intense conversation with X. As i guessed, she is a Baal Teshuva, and i loved her story.
We have to catch up later for a conversation about our past and current interrogations.
I told her that i love Orthodoxy, but i have big issues with tz'ni'ut.
She said: "I never thought that i will wear a wig one day."
I was flabbergasted!
I can't tell her story on this blog, that's too personal. I have a lot of admiration for her courage and strength after what she has been through. She is adorable, and gentle.
On my way back to home, i was once again with S.
Someone wants me to know her better.
She talks about love with me: she is waiting for the one. She wants someone serious who doesn't sneak around, and goes out from bar to another bar…
She met a bunch of men. Why do the Lubaba men waste time on Craiglist if they can meet girls so easily?
I asked her about a shul that is close to my place.
Her shul is 770, because it's the authentic one.
The other one is, what i was skeptical about, a Hipster shul.
She doesn't like it.
That's the Yidster shul par excellence.
I emailed once the rabbi about information for a conversion, he replied fast, and then disappeared in the network pipes.
I am available next Friday. So, what about a Satmar, Bobov, or Pupa Shabbos meal? :-)
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