“The Tapestry of Jewish Time” is exactly as its title sounds, an impeccably crafted work about traditional and contemporary Judaic rituals.
And just as its author, Rabbi Nina Beth Cardin, likens Jews to weavers — “interlacing our traditions and languages, our rituals and laws” while weaving “a personal shawl of Judaism” — the book itself is intertwined with the multifaceted fabrics of Judaism, both in content and visual presentation.
The book is divided into two sections, the first on Jewish holidays and the second on Jewish lifecycle events.
Insightful black-and-white photographs with captions depicting elements of Judaism fill the page margins, such as women decorating a sukkah with grapes, papers and personal prayers stuck in Israel’s Western Wall.
Descriptive, brown sketches filled with symbols of what’s to come, drawn by Ilene Winn-Lederer, accompany each new chapter.
Through the elements of content and visual aides, Cardin manages a comprehensive and seemingly all-inclusive look at life as a Jew.
It’s as if “Tapestry” is a guide to Jewish life or even a handbook on how to be a Jew — only written with eloquence and a philosophical edge. It’s “The Idiots Guide to Judaism” meets Martin Buber.
“Tapestry,” however, does not try to categorize Jewish customs and rituals into a specific mode of operation as a typical handbook might. Sure, it provides the definition of traditions such as Shabbat and details lifecycle events such as birth, but it also provides much more.
For instance, Cardin retells the story of an Auschwitz survivor who once told her how she and her sister would celebrate Shabbat each week, hiding inside the death camp latrine.
And when dealing with birth, Cardin acknowledges those born with special needs, reminding the reader that “Jacob became lame when touched by the angel” and Moses “was heavy of tongue.”
Why all the stories, examples and descriptions of Jewish celebration, life, relationships, ritual, culture and law?
Cardin explains that although the traditions of Judaism weave us with those generations of Jews before us, our own interpretations are exactly that: our own.
Not only is there not one way to do things, but how we do them now might be different from how we do them later.
“In the very process of preserving the past we often unwittingly change it,” she writes. “This book of Judaism could not have been written 12 months ago. And it is not the same book I would write a year from now. By then, new stories, new traditions, new insights, will have melded themselves into our common text.”
Another way of affirming this belief is Cardin’s inclusion of pages for the reader to fill out over time. Just as “Tapestry” is a diary of experiences, space is reserved for the reader’s diary: pages for a family tree, pages for special events and dates and pages to detail “traditions, anecdotes, holiday guest lists, recipes, questions and musings.”
By making the readers active participants, Cardin allows them to engage themselves within the book and Judaism.
So, for any Jew who has lit the Shabbat candles, planted a tree on Tu B’Shevat, had their newborn son circumcised or merely asked themselves why they should do any of it, “Tapestry” is the place to turn.
It offers a distinct but universal approach to being a Jew.