I am back out west and my culitnary talents are once again in demand. This is code to more or less I am tied to the stove. It’s not that I am forced per say but cannot seem to free myself from this notion men need to be fed with copious amounts of food. Oddly enough, the man in my life likes to encourage this side of me and thinks of it affectionately as expressing my inner Jewess…Blogging will be what is or not, but I wanted to say Baurch HaShem for the last Rebbe of Lubbavitch and his foresight in sending out the shluchim -- literally everywhere. I might not be on board for thinking the last Rebbe of the Lubavitch is the Moschiah, but I would otherwise be lost in a small town in Alberta and floundering on my own to determine the correct time to light my shabbos candles.
4 comments:
Me too. Many, many years ago the Rebbe's mission affected me quite the same way.
I lived in the pit of galus, and a Chabad rabbi and I fatefully met in the strangest of places, and under the strangest of circumstances (I came to the aid of him in a mall, of all places, when some neo-Nazi punks were starting problems).
And the rest is history, it was the first day of my journey as baal teshuvah, and I've never looked back.
Had those skinhead punks not started the problems, I probably would have finished my trek into assimilation--instead, a negative event turned into a blessing. It's amazing how such mysteries work.
It's an awesome mission Chabad has undertaken, and is certainly an important step in bringing about the redemption and the olam haba.
Comrade, your personal narrative, is exactly the kind of thing the Rebbe anticipated and prepared for with the formation of Chabad and sending out of shluchim. I realize there is many criticisms which can be leveled against Chabad, some justifiably, and some not, but it is the Rebbe's vision of care in action which always touches me.
I was privileged with inheriting a number of the Rebbe’s discourses, and for years there laid untouched and unloved. I cherished them, but only because of whose hands held them before me, in time, I learned to value them for their own sake. I doubt I can ever walk the path of the Chassid, for I remain too much the rebellious daughter, but who knows, maybe even one day I will finally merit an end to my personal exile.
Leaving Chabad issues aside, I would say that a fed man is a happy man indeed. However, the opinion that a woman must be tied to a stove to feed her man is erroneous. A man will be just as happy if offered a Chinese delivery or a pizza or whatever, provided the food is sprinkled by a sufficient volume of beer.
I always suspected that insistence of the better gender to cook is just another of them chains...
Yes, but have you tasted my pizza or chinese food? You may not want to go back to regular take-out if you did. Recently, my oldest son was quite angry with me for enforcing a parental punishment, subsequently, he refused to talk to me. All I did to change the dynamic was torture him by making dinner and refused to acknowledge him until he talked to me first....the smell of it simply overwhelmed all his resolve. He could have gone out for pizza or Chinese food but it would hardly have been satisfying as partaking of what I had cooked.
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