 |
Los Angeles Times Valley Edition | Glendale News-Press | 2005 February 12
One city under the chupah
BY PATRICK AZADIAN
Many of my Armenian friends have an idealistic vision of the Jewish-American community. Comments such as: "There is a lot to be learned from Jewish-Americans. They help each other when they can. They do not stab each other in the back. They don't have 'zillions' of organizations doing the same thing. And most importantly, they have assimilated into the American mainstream while maintaining their distinct culture," are not uncommon among some of my friends.
In general, glorification of any group, including the Armenian Americans, makes me feel uncomfortable. So, when I had the opportunity during my undergraduate days at UCLA, I took a few courses on Judaism and the Jewish Diaspora offered by the Department of Sociology. I wanted to demystify some myths for myself.
The courses gave me a better understanding of the Jewish community. But as I had suspected, there are no perfectly organized communities or peoples. As with most ethnic, religious and racial minorities, the Jewish community has its own set of unique accomplishments as well as issues and concerns. And yes, they also have "zillions" of organizations, which are a reflection of their community's diverse background. And no, there is no magic formula of full assimilation into the American mainstream while maintaining one's ethnic roots fully. What the courses did not teach me, however, was to have a feel of the Jewish community. So when my Moroccan-Jewish friend rang me up to send me her wedding invitation, I was excited. I asked her: "Is it going to be a traditional wedding?"
"Somewhat," she said. "We have to respect the backgrounds of both of our families. He comes from a European background and I have Sephardic roots."
The wedding ceremony was held outside under the chupah, or canopy. And based on what I remember, the Rabbi said the chupah symbolizes the home to be built and be shared by the couple. The chupah is open on all sides to welcome friends and relatives with unconditional hospitality. It is also open because you are here of your own free will, he said.
The Rabbi elaborated.
"We are under the stars, as a sign of the blessing given by God, so that his children shall be as the stars of the heavens," he said. Later as the ceremony continued, I was under the impression that the Rabbi made eye contact with me while he was on the topic of jewelry and materialism: "You see, the chatan [groom] and the kallah [bride] are wearing no jewelry. Their mutual commitment to one another is based on who they are as people not on their respective material possessions," he said.
My nonclinical paranoia kicked in. Did he know I was Armenian? And was he aware of the Armenian love affair with jewels and jewelry. I looked around nervously and mumbled to myself, "I am not the official representative of the Armenians. And I am only wearing silver."
Soon, I remembered, I was not the center of universe and the eye contact was a pure coincidence. Before the rings were presented, the couple sipped wine. I had always thought the beverage was there to numb the nerves and warm up the cold feet. But the Rabbi had another take on the matter. "God has given us grapes, but it is humans who can make it into wine. God has brought you together, but it is up to you to make your marriage work. It is up to you to accept the grapes as a gift and transform them into distinguished wine."
There was so much tradition and symbolism, I had to come up with some of my own. I could not help but draw a parallel between the wedding and the city we live in. And as the Glendale elections' season is drawing near, the opportunity for the analogy has arrived.
For starters, we all have chosen Glendale as a home of our own free will. Our connection to our city, to our neighbors and to our community is very much like a marriage. As subcommunities and as individuals, we don't necessarily share common backgrounds, we all have our pluses as well as character flaws, and whether we entered the marriage in search of love, respect, family, convenience, friendship, security, peer pressure or all of the above, we are here, together.
What is not clear, however, is whether the gift that has been given to us in the form of an opportunity to pursue happiness, freedom and progress, will ever be turned into reality.
The question remains: What is our vision for the future of our city? What kind of wine do we want? Are the grapes gifted to us capable of producing that particular type of wine? And last, but not least, are we willing to get our feet discolored as we stomp the grapes?
I'll be voting on April 5. But before that, I'll be asking a question or two from the candidates that require answers beyond the rhetorical slogans of "no congestion, no crime." It is the bare minimum I can do to bring about a positive change to our city and community.
Copyright 2005 Glendale News Press
|
