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Glendale News Press
Published February12, 2005
http://glendalenewspress.com/columns/story/29 86p-4306c.html
FROM THE MARGINS
One city under the chupah
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 Ameri-
cans, makes me feel uncomfort- able. 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.
Published February12, 2005
http://glendalenewspress.com/columns/story/29 86p-4306c.html
FROM THE MARGINS
One city under the chupah
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 Ameri-
cans, makes me feel uncomfort- able. 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.