Monday, January 4, 2016

Jewish Handiwork

by: Noa Rubin for Fresh Ink for Teens

The hands of many people shaped the person I am today.


Using a silver cup I pour water on my hands, once on my right, then on my left, three times. I watch the water rush down my hands and into the sink. Al netilat yadayim (on the washing of hands) — I reflect on my gratitude for the commandment to wash my hands as preparation for holy actions. I am ready.

My Jewish identity consists of many disjointed facets. Seeking commonality in my memories, I found one recurring image: hands. The people who appear in my memories used their hands to sanctify mine. The memory of my dad’s hands on the car’s steering wheel, fighting traffic to get me to school, brought dedication to me as a learner. The memory of my grandparents hosting Shabbat dinners for my cousins and me almost every week. Their hands set the table and cooked beautiful meals — a meaningful, intergenerational practice — and therefore, tradition matters to me.

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