In a world of confusion and darkness, an ancient cry echoes: “Mi LaHashem eilai”
MY high school principal (who doesn’t get nearly enough credit for putting up with my antics for four years) often lamented, “For chasunahs, our girls get dressed up like princesses, but when the dancing starts, they turn into animals.” I had never understood her until I saw my friends doing it… and until I did it myself.
I felt a lot of joy at my friends’ weddings. When I heard the announcement, “Introducing, for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs…!” and the kallah finally ran in to the hall amid crashing drums and blaring music, it was very easy for me to express that with a loud shriek, a sound I hadn’t even known I was capable of producing.
But one night it hit me: While the mechitzah may have separated the men’s and women’s sides, it most certainly didn’t block the sounds. And there were a lot of men on the other side who heard me and my friends whooping, hollering, and shrieking throughout the dancing.
I was surprised at myself for overlooking that. And I knew absolutely that I didn’t want any of that at my chasunah.
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