Jeremy and I were both raised in Modern Orthodox households, spent two years in Modern Orthodox yeshivas in Israel, and attended the flagship of Modern Orthodoxy, Yeshiva University. You’d think that it would be relatively smooth sailing when it comes to settling on the religious outlines of our household.
But even though we don’t have to decide between a Christmas tree and a Hanukkah bush during winter season, merging our separate, ingrained traditions is still a task. It comes down to details, but details make up our everyday lives, and they can’t be overlooked, especially if children are in our (very eventual) future.
Jeremy has spent his life following the opinion that, unlike bread, eating pizza doesn’t require him to wash his hands and say the blessing of “hamotzi” before eating. Instead, he says “mezonot,” a no-washing prayer for a snack, and digs in. I, on the other hand, have gotten used to ordering pizza, trudging to a nearby sink, washing my hands, remaining silent until I’ve made the blessing, and only then taking a bite of my delicious slice. Considering pizza is one of our favorite foods, this is a bigger deal than you might think.
Since we started dating, I would wash for pizza, and he would wait patiently (usually) at the table until I was seated to start eating with me. Now that we’re married, though, it’s become a bit odd for us to make different blessings on our pizza.
Like most women, I found engagement to be a journey. Unlike most women, I decided to share that journey with the readers of the Forward. Over the latter part of my six-month engagement to Jeremy, I blogged for the Sisterhood (using my maiden name, Lampert) in a series called “Feminist, Orthodox and Engaged.” I wrote about going on birth control in advance of my wedding, getting genetic tests with Jeremy to ensure that our future children weren’t at risk for disease and my excitement at getting to live with Jeremy for the first time after our wedding.
For the most part, I loved being engaged. I loved the excitement my readers seemed to share over my impending nuptials. I loved being able to use the word “nuptials.”
But it was also stressful. I knew I wanted to spend forever with my fiancé, but because of practicalities like wedding rings and marriage documents, forever couldn’t start just yet. It was like waiting in line outside to get into a concert you’ve paid for: It’s thrilling, and the anticipation is building, but the fun hasn’t really begun. I guess what I’m saying is, marriage is like seeing Nicki Minaj live, every day. Minus the loud crowds. (My guilty pleasure music secret had to come out sooner or later.)
Then again, I’ve only been married for a month now. I’m only just starting out on a path that I hope will end up like my grandparents’ marriages — five or more decades together, learning and living and growing and loving. This first year, that so-called honeymoon phase, will be its own journey, one that I’m excited to again have the opportunity to share here in the Forward’s new blog, Just Married. It’s a journey that had its birth way back when Jeremy and I met, and that truly began on the day of our wedding.
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