Thursday, September 30, 2010 » Last weekend I attended my cousin Josh’s wedding in Los Angeles, Calif. Besides its location at a fancy restaurant, the perfect sunny-California weather, the 1920s Hollywood theme — and yes, I am bragging — my favorite part of Josh’s wedding was its Jewish traditions.
My mom’s side of the family is Jewish. None of us are orthodox — we are what author Anne Lamott describes as “bagelly” Jews, or secular Jews. By birth we are Jewish through our moms’ bloodline, but we don’t strictly eat kosher or go to temple every week. We look Jewish, we have Jewish (maiden) names, we always crave bagels and lox, but we don’t practice our religion.
Except when it comes to weddings.
Josh and his new wife Anora got married under a chuppah, signed the ketubah, broke the glass and were raised into the air on chairs during the reception while friends and family danced around them. And all the men wore matching yarmulkes.
Something attracted me to those traditions. It wasn’t that they seemed cool or different; I was attracted to their meaning.
I don’t like tradition for the sake of tradition. I think that’s bred from my non-denominational church upbringing.
If I’m going to do something that’s ancient and symbolic, I want to know why I’m doing it.
I loved that the rabbi explained the traditions implemented in Josh and Anora’s wedding. I got to know why they got married under a canopy structure called a chuppah. (It’s to represent the bride and groom’s home.) They’re not empty traditions, nor are most of the Christian traditions we practice.
I think as young adults we fall into one of two categories: we either love traditions because they’re new and intriguing to us, or we’re burnt out on them.
I wonder, though, if we’re burnt out by these traditions not because we know their origins so well, but because we don’t. They seem empty to us. Why pray with prayer beads if it’s just a strand of plastic? Why take the Eucharist if it’s just an extension of breakfast?
My recent curiosity with Jewish (and Christian) traditions did not spark from nothing; it came from learning more. It wasn’t until I made sense of those traditions that I began to recognize their value.