Hello. Here I am. Where have I been? Nowhere, really. I mean, nowhere else but here. So why haven't I checked in? Why haven't I let everyone know that I'm not dead and everything's fine, but that I just absolutely could not tear myself away from the various aspects of Real Life that beckoned? Well, see, I would have let everyone know this, but I absolutely could not tear myself away from the various aspects of Real Life that beckoned. Updating everyone would have required (a) time (b) presence of mind and (c) proximity to Internet access. Often I'd have one or two, but not all three at once. So, no soup for you.

However, at the present moment there are (shudder) people in my house, and I have decided to hide from them, and I found myself hiding in the room where my computer is, feeling bored and antsy and overtired from Pesach stuff. So I sat down and stared at my computer, and suddenly it hit me: "Hey!! I can, like, post right now! There's actually nothing stopping me!!" So, first ensuring that I remembered my RenReb login and password (I did), and then ensuring that indeed, nothing was, at that moment, stopping me (it wasn't), I dusted off my blogger.com keys, logged on in, and here I am, having stolen a few moments before Real Life beckons again.

So. People keep asking if RenReb is officially retired. Nah, I reply. Not really. At least, not permanently. You know why? Because. Because nothing is permanent, that's why, except perhaps the earth, but maybe not even that. And who knows what the future will bring? At the moment I don't know if life will ever allow me to re-enter the blogosphere in any meaningful capacity, but if there's one thing old age has taught me, it's never to say never, and never to even say ever. You don't burn bridges and you don't close doors, because you may, one day, come to regret it. So, I leave the RenReb.com door open (or rather, my COS leaves the RenReb.com door open, because I asked nicely), lest I should ever be able to walk through it again. And mind you, my non-retirement hasn't come about because I have nothing more to say. Au contraire. I'm sure there are those who wish I were all out of things to say, but I don't know if that's physically possible. Life and the world and the state of all things continue to bear down and cause me to piece together all sorts of frantic and hysterical capital letters that simply ache to burst out and make themselves heard, but it just isn't happening, at least not right now. And baruch Hashem, it's all good. I don't want anybody to worry and I don't want anybody to fret. Everything is fine, maybe even better than fine. Just busy, and distracting. But nobody's been hurt and there's no crisis brewing, and you people are the greatest for caring and for thinking about me.

Anyhoo, here's a couple of things, in case anybody wants to know:

• My family did not come for Pesach this year. Ah well. But at least I'm sort of used to it by now. And this year I went out on a major limb and actually delegated a bunch of the cooking to various Others, and some of what they came up with actually didn't suck. So we'll see if this becomes a yearly occurence or not.
• I don't know how far or wide the news traveled of a horrible tragedy that hit the rabbinic, Jewish, and general worlds the Shabbos before Pesach, but allow me to say this: Oh. My. God. I mean, really. The rabbinic community is still reeling from this, and probably will be for some time. Think about it. A house fire? On a Friday night? On Shabbos Hagadol? What does it all mean?? Because we sort of feel like it has to mean something. In any case, it's just awful beyond words, and we pray for the family and wish them strength in their recovery.
• Phil told me a few months ago that, while I may not fully realize it, I must know that I am -- quote -- "an appendage of [my] husband." Yes, that's right. Phil actually used those words. And what's more, Phil didn't seem to have any sense or awareness that this might be, like, an insulting or demeaning thing to say. Heeheehee. This sort of cracked me up, all the more so because I used that very word myself once upon a time, here. But I'm fairly certain Phil did not know that, which makes the whole thing even funnier.

Oh, look at that. Real Life just beckoned again, in fact just walked through the door, apparently of the opinion that there are things I'm supposed to be doing. Ok then.

So, like I said. This is not goodbye. It's never goodbye. It is, however, my fondest wishes and best regards, offered in the sincere hope that I'll find my way back soon. Thank you again for your inquiries and concerns, and my best wishes for a fulfilling an enjoyable and nearly weightless Passover.

Until next time, all.

As you may or may not have noticed, my general approach to the world tends at most times to be to attempt to ignore most stuff about most stuff. This usually works pretty well for me, and I'm fairly certain my blood pressure is a lot better than most people's as a result. To my regret, however, there are times at which too many people happen to be discussing something in too many contexts for me to remain unaware of it. Global warming, for example. Genocides taking place in various areas of the world, for another example. Ahmacockyjad, for another example. And now, this.

I think I'm going to scream, and for a very simple reason. The letter is very good, very accurate, and very timely (unfortunately). However, the author of this letter, by addressing the letter "to the teachers and principals of the Modern Orthodox school system", has, in my perception, apparently bought into the problem labeled "Thing #3" in this post.

I am willing to bet that in the vast majority of cases, the kids on the program described in the letter come from homes that are not carefully structured around a core of Torah and mitzvot. I don't mean that they don't make kiddush on Shabbos or that the Pesach hotels they go to aren't kosher. I mean, that there is most likely not a constant, active, vibrant sense of religious focus and identity in their homes. I mean that the parents likely don't display, either in words or in deeds, the sort of reverence for halacha that is likely to instill a similar reverence in their children. Etc.

Pay attention, people. Parents are the most important things in the world. IN THE WORLD. Home life is everything. Everything. And yes, I know there are plenty of exceptions; yes, I know that kids from the most actively spiritual homes ever can still chuck it all once they're out; and yes, I know that kids from the least spiritual homes ever can still become the most committed and serious Jews in the world. But those are the exceptions, my friends. The exceptions.

A yeshiva/day school education is a supplement to the formation of a child's Jewish identity and commitment. A very, very important and critical supplement, but a supplement. If we want our youth to grow up respecting and following halacha and feeling a serious sense of Orthodox Jewish identity and pride, we must focus on our home lives first. Because I promise you. In the vast majority of cases, texts and history and all the hashkafah classes in the world will be meaningless if their messages and importance are not enforced, and reinforced, and modeled - constantly, seriously, and actively - in the child's home.

Humph. This sort of thing really gets my goat.

So, teachers and principals in the modern Orthodox school system - yes, do all the stuff the author of the letter describes. It all sounds good to me. But you are not the problem, or at least, not the whole problem. So please. Do not blame yourselves, and don't let anyone else blame you, if your absolute best efforts don't end up being the magic bullet people think they should be. Because there is no magic bullet, and you can't be expected to make a cup overflow when its bottom is covered with holes.

So, North Korea is sending nuclear stuff to Syria. Swell.

So, Ahmecockyjad is still - well - still. Swell.

So, I missed my husband's sermon again. Swell.

So, here I am, fasting. WHICH I HATE. Swell.

So, we're about to have TWO MORE three-day Yom Tovs. TOTALLY EARTH-SHATTERINGLY SWELL.

So in response, my mind conjured up some "at leasts."

At least Israel found out, and took care of it. This time.

At least - um - well, he's mortal, isn't he? So he won't last forever, will he?

At least everyone's talking about how good it was.

At least I have this opportunity to do tshuva and reflect on God.

At least I live in a time and place wherein we can embrace our holidays openly, freely, and without fear. Oh, and at least I have a shtickle family coming.

The "at leasts" helped, a little bit. But I'm still so depressed about the state of the world. I don't know how long we can keep up this struggle against enemies who are far more numerous, more determined, and more filled with hate than we are filled with anything that could possibly combat hate. I know I davened hard for Hashem to protect us, to guide our leaders, and above all, to heal the world. But I don't know how much good it will do.

Sorry to be such a ray of sunshine, folks. Talk to me when it's all over in a few weeks and I might be a little more pleasant.

Off to defrost a few chickens and help put up the sukkah. Don't wait up.

I interrupt this Yom Kippur preparation to bring heartbreaking news. See this, and please post your condolences and support. I have long been a fan of Shifra's, and I can't imagine the pain she must be in. So go do what you can, readers, and spread the love. May we be זוכה to hear and to have only good news in the coming year.

Good evening. First of all, I'm going to throw up. Click here.

Ok, all together now:

HOOOOOOOGGGHHHHAAAAHHH

Ok then.

So last year, right before Rosh Hashanah, I posted this. I should have posted something similar on Wednesday - in fact I meant to - but heheh, no time for such things when there are apples to peel and honey dishes to fill and linens to change and a husband to not disturb so he can finish composing his sermons. Which I missed. Again. On both days. Gosh darn it. I hear they were pretty good and stuff, but why should I believe it? Like anyone's going to tell me if they were bad?

Actually, come to think of it, some of our congregants probably would tell me if they were bad. Also come to think of it, my husband is a genius and the best speaker ever, so there's actually no way they were bad. Ok then.

So before I get to the topic I promised you (modern Othodoxy's abject terror of the Evil Right Wing), I thought I'd provide some fun little anecdotes regarding the word "rebbetzin." Been collecting these for a while, so here they are.

Anecdote #1
So I was talking to someone who happens to know I'm the RenReb, and this person was talking about my blog personality, and for some reason that I have yet to figure out, this person kept referring to my blog personality as "the Rebbetzin Rebbetzin," instead of, you know, "the Renegade Rebbetzin." This makes me wonder: Was this some sort of masked Freudian-type message? And if so, what was the message?

Anecdote #2
So I was visiting a shul wherein the wife of the rabbi is a generation and a half older than I, and as such she has been married to a pulpit rabbi for a few decades longer. Now, I happen to greatly admire this woman. She isn't quite like the dinner rebbetzin (not in the mood to hunt down links, do a search on my blog for "dinner rebbetzin" and you'll find out who she is), but she's definitely wise and inspiring and a lovely person to be around, and certainly I aspire to be at least a little bit more like her than I currently am.

So I was visiting her shul, and I happened to be standing near her, and a dude from her shul came over to us and said "Rebbetzin?" Immediately, we both turned our heads. Then the following exchange took place:

Me: Oh, look at that. I hear "rebbetzin," and I assume people are talking to me.

Elder rebbetzin (in an undertone, eyebrows raised): Careful - it's a disease!

[pause]

Well. Certainly not what I was expecting her to say. Which makes me wonder: Has this rebbetzin ever been accused of being RenReb?

Anecdote #3 (WARNING: this anecdote involves me being naked)
So I got myself a new doctor, by which I mean a new internist, and I went to my first appointment. So as instructed, I removed my clothing and put on one of the crisp paper gowns, and the nurse or whomever came in and took my weight and my height and asked me some random stuff, and then I hung out for a bit, and then the doc arrived and started asking me a bunch of questions of his own, and I answered them all whilst continuing to sit nakedly under my gown.

So he finished with the history and he had his back to me and was putting away the chart and getting ready for whatever was to come next, and while doing so he made small talk, as follows:

Doc: So you live right around here, right?

RenReb: Yes, for ## years now.

Doc: Oh, where before that?

RenReb: [CENSORED]

Doc: So what brought you to this area?

RenReb: My husband got a job here.

Doc: What sort of work does he do?

RenReb (sighing internally, bracing myself for whatever reaction is to follow): He's a rabbi, over at [CENSORED].

Doc (turns around; mouth drops open briefly; then, a huge smile forms): Really! Wow, no kidding! A rebbetzin, right here in front of me!

(Incidentally, his sudden and unexpected use of the word "rebbetzin" answered one thing I was wondering, which was whether or not he's Jewish, since he does have a Jewish last name)

So here's a word to the wise, folks. There's a time and a place for everything. If, for whatever reason, you feel an urge to use the word "rebbetzin" when addressing a person who is married to a rabbi - well, that's fine and all; however, if the rebbetzin you are addressing happens, for whatever reason, to be buck naked at the time - even under a paper robe - well, perhaps that isn't the best moment to use the word. I don't know, it just sort of removed the whole feeling of "it's-fine-that-this-man-is-going-to-see-me-naked-because-he's-a-doctor-and-this-is-a-medical-situation". Know what I mean?

Anecdote #4
So I saw a thing recently that advertised some sort of upcoming event wherein there were going to be a lot of speakers. Each speaker's name was listed, along with their profession. You know, like this (NOTE: I am making these up):

Joe Goldstein
Principal, Jewish Academy of America

Rachel Cohen
Educator and Lecturer, Jewish Hills, Montana

Herschel Krustofski
Clown, The Simpsons


And so forth. So one of them said the following (this name is ALSO made up):

Rebbetzin Sophie Friedberg
Rebbetzin, Congregation Jewish Souls of Jewville, Kentucky


Ah. So apparently, "rebbetzin" is Mrs. Friedberg's job title, or at least, it was all the conference organizers felt the prospective attendees needed to be told about her in order to be attracted (or not) to hearing her speak.

So this made me wonder, as I observed my reaction, which was a combination of huffiness and wistfulness: Does seeing the word "rebbetzin" used in this manner make me think to myself "My, I sure do wish people would stop making assumptions about people just because they're married to rabbis"? Or, does it make me think to myself "Nobody would ever use 'rebbetzin' as my job description, and that's because I'm not worthy of it"?

Or, does it make me think both of those things?

Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser.

Ok, that's all for now. Please use the rest of this week wisely, and have an easy couple of fasts (hey, have I ever mentioned that I HATE FASTING?), and if I don't check in before Friday, have a גמר חתימה טובה.

"Left the building?" I HAVE NOT. If the time ever comes in which I decide to leave the blogosphere forever and for real, as opposed to just for a few months at a time, I will certainly say so in no uncertain terms. Ok? Really, people. Where has your faith gone??

Hey, isn't "ye of little faith" a quote from the Christian Bible? Oops.

So, on the topic of things I can't ever say out loud, I have some bees in my bonnet (surprise). Want to hear what they are?

Bee #1: Idiots and Jewish education.

I am so. Sick. And. Tired. Of the following things (and of many others):

• Thing #1: People who piss and moan endlessly about the cost of yeshiva tuition, and yet expect the school(s) in question to provide their children with the sun, the moon, and most of the planets.

Attention parents: Computers are not free. Internet access is not free. State-of-the-art sports facilities are not free. Utilities and building maintenance are very, very far from free. And the staff of your school does not work for free.

Point being: If you want the sun, the moon, and the planets, you have to be willing to pay for them. And planets are expensive.

• Thing #2: People who piss and moan endlessly about the cost of yeshiva tuition, and yet complain about the quality of the teachers hired. A bit of wisdom, folks: If you pay peanuts, you get monkeys.
  
• Thing #3: Parents who take no active interest whatsoever in nurturing their children's Jewish identity; no active interest whatsoever in the Jewish content of the children's education; provide zero spiritual sustenance in their homes; set horrible examples as halakhic role models; and then blame the child's school and the child's shul and everyone in the child's life except themselves when the child tosses Orthodox Judaism out the window. I'm sorry, but what did they think was going to happen? If you want to grow something, you have to plant it, tend it, and care for it, actively, constantly, and with dedication and determination, every day of every week of every year. You cannot just stick a seed outside and expect the wind and the rain to perform your particular brand of magic for you. Schools and shuls and friends are absolutely critical, but nothing is more important than parents. Nothing. Your child's Jewish identity and commitment are YOUR responsibility before anyone else's. Put in the effort, and pay active and proper attention, or don't complain about the results.
  

[Gratuitous and slightly related (but mostly just fun):

But now, my dears, we think you might
Be wondering—is it really right
That every single bit of blame
And all the scolding and the shame
Should fall upon Veruca Salt?
Is she the only one at fault?
For though she's spoiled, and dreadfully so,
A girl can't spoil herself, you know.
-Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
(the book) (duh)

And of course, this:

Who do you blame when your kid is a brat,
Pampered and spoiled like a Siamese cat?
Blaming the kids is a lie and a shame.
You know exactly who's to blame:
The mother and the father.
-Willlie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
(you know, the real movie, with Gene Wilder)]

Incidentally, I am well aware that there are no guarantees in life. I have absolutely seen children of the most religiously active, hands-on, involved parents in the world nevertheless leave the Orthodox Jewish path. Of course there are no foolproof formulas (formulae?) for ensuring that your children will grow into the sort of adults you envision. I'm just saying, I am sick and tired of parents doing next to nothing to actively, and powerfully, contribute to their children's Jewish identities, but instead expect the Establishment to do the job for them. It just doesn't work that way, people. And if it does, it's because you got lucky. But if it doesn't, you can't pin the blame on everybody in the world except yourselves.

• Thing #4: Parents who piss and moan about the cost of yeshiva tuition, AND have the audacity to ask for scholarships, while they routinely pour more money than the cost of educating their children into things like Pesach hotels and obscenely extravagant bar and bat mitzvah celebrations. These cases are so commonplace it's simply astounding. I really can't wrap my mind around what these parents are thinking. It quite simply defies all logic.

Parents: Nobody is getting rich off your tuition dollars. Trust me (unless your school is being run by corrupt fools, which, regrettably, some are). Stop being freaking crybabies and accept that everything costs money; good things cost more money; and excellent things cost the most money.

In addition to that, there is no such thing as perfection. The world is imperfect. People are imperfect. Therefore the institutions that people establish and run are also imperfect. That's the way it is. I promise you that no matter how much your school charges in tuition, they are still going to occasionally, or perhaps more than occasionally, screw up. Running yourself ragged and forfeiting life's pleasures to pay these gigantic tuition sums sucks, but it does not entitle you to expect perfection from your child's school. There is no such thing as perfection. End of story.

Incidentally: the tuition problem is horrendous. Horrendous. You won't hear me saying it isn't. But much of the pissing and moaning that takes place is quite simply offensive and out of line. People need to realign their priorities and establish some perspective, and think of something to do besides complain. Not everybody's priorities are messed up, of course. But a heck of a lot of people's are.

By the way, I think I'll take this opportunity to toss out a plea. If there are any very wealthy people out there reading this post (hey, you never know), please consider giving all of your money to me establishing some sort of scholarship fund or teachers' salaries fund or something similar at a yeshiva in your area. Yes, I know, you've probably thought about this before, but think about it again. I know it isn't as straightforward as it sounds, but please do it anyway. And if the yeshiva in your area happens to be run by corrupt fools, then find another yeshiva that isn't (yes, there are some), and do it for that yeshiva. Or better yet, use your influence (if you have any) to try to get rid of the corrupt fools and fix up your local yeshiva. We need the super-duper wealthy people out there (and I'm told that there are a few in the Orthodox Jewish world) to help the tuition crisis. Not the lack-of-tennis-court crisis, or the lack-of-astronomy-lab crisis, but the tuition crisis. This is a problem that only money can truly solve, and I'm begging the people with money to put their heads together and work on creative solutions.

Begging.

Ok then. I think that exhausts the Jewish education portion of the bees in my bonnet. I can hear some of the buzzing subsiding already. So, let's review the lessons we've learned today at RenReb.com:

1. Stuff costs money
2. You get what you pay for
3. Priorities, people, priorities
4. Solidly committed Jews aren't spontaneously generated, and are unlikely to be molded completely by outside forces
5. No amount of money can buy perfection, because perfection does not exist
6. If you have lots of money, please a) pay your kids' tuition, and b) think about how you might help the crisis at large. This is everyone's problem, people. Everyone's. This problem even belongs to people who don't have kids or whose kids have finished school. Every last member of the Jewish nation needs vibrant and successful schools that are staffed by talented professionals. So please. For God's sake (literally), help make it so.

This brings me to the second bee in my bonnet. That bee being: Modern Orthodoxy's abject terror of the Evil Right Wing. In deference to a friend who shall remain nameless, I shall not create a monstrously long post by writing on that topic now, but instead I shall wait a bit. Stay tuned to RenReb.com for further details.

Oh yeah, and it's Elul, or so I've heard. So don't forget to like, do tshuva and stuff.

Ugh, ugh, and more ugh. Bad, bad stuff about the bad, bad world, courtesy of my best friend Orthomom.

Yes, I know there's actual bad stuff happening around the world that may make low-rise underwear for toddlers seem like sort of small potatoes, but still. This culture makes me sick. Sick sick sick sick SICK. We must fight it, boys and girls. We must join forces and fight.

Also - no fair. I totally wanted to win the Webads clock. I even have the funky Webads thingie on my sidebar now, see? I DESERVED that clock. *pout* Better luck next time.

On the happier front, look at all of this stuff. Here are my multitudinous reactions:

1. WAAAAAAAAAAAAH no fair I want to move to Israel too WAAAAAAAAAH
2. *tears of joy and inspiration*
3. You know, I've never had the desire to kiss the pavement at Ben Gurion airport. Never. Not even once. Get me outside though, and whoa-mama. There's no keeping my lips from the ground. And especially from the orange trees, though luckily I haven't been arrested for that yet.
4. WAAAAAAAAH no fair I want to move to Israel too WAAAAAAAAH

(uh-oh, I'm whining again - recently there's been some accusations on the J-blogosphere that I tend to whine - oops)

Um - ok. [insert big goofy grin]

Better?