Page 331 - WhyAsInY

WHat’s in a naMe?
sounding like a militant atheist. I did not get the impression that he was listening to me, but that was probably just as well.
Then, after telling me how lucky I was to be marrying “Fraydel” (Phyllis’s Yiddish name, meaning joy), he got down to business. The purpose of our meeting, which was traditional in Judaism, was to enable us, the young couple about to enter into a sacred relationship, to take advantage of his experience as a rabbi and generally to consult, not just about the details of the wedding ceremony but also about the meaning of a Jewish home, Jewish attitudes toward sex and parenthood, the place of the couple in the congregation, and whatever else might concern us as we approached our new status. He allowed that it was not necessary in our case to talk about the importance of a Jewish home or the Jewish nation, as Fraydel, a Rebell, clearly understood that, and he then went on to talk about the Seven Blessings (prayers traditionally sung at the wedding) and the marriage contract, the ketubah—which should, he said, be hung over the marital bed—and some other stuff that I don’t recall. Somehow, even though it was not necessary to talk about the Jewish home, he found it necessary to convey to us that it was a mitzvah for a man and a woman, joined together in “kiddushin” (betrothal in front of kosher witnesses) in the synagogue, to take pleasure in sexual union and thereby enrich and strengthen their marriage, not to mention the Jewish nation, which thereby managed to get mentioned anyway.
I disregarded the idea that you were supposed to place a framed ketubah over your bed, I felt relieved to learn that sexual union was a mitzvah, and I didn’t ask any wiseass questions about the awkwardness of being joined in kiddushin—which, he said, originally could be accom- plished through sexual intercourse with the intention of marrying, or the payment of something of value to the intended bride—in front of a whole lot of people. Phyllis did not have any questions that I recall.
Just when I thought we were done, Rabbi Letterman told us that he would be happy to see me again, at least when the Aufruf would take place, on March 8, naturally. I nodded knowingly and waited for what I thought would be an explanation of this new term, which I heard, and still hear as “owf ruff ” (not then understanding that he was referring to
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